But then. A crash in the distance. Creaking, crackling of gravel, metal crushing and engines blaring. Someone shouted before the front door kicked in and the world ticked over again.
Thirty-Four
Theo
IgrabbedViolet,yankingherbody to mine in the same moment Rafael was distracted by whatever the fuck was happening.
It took only a few seconds for a swarm of bodies to reach us, the chaos of it taking me right back to that night at Connor’s, when Rafael’s men had found and overwhelmed us with frightening ease. I braced myself to be handled, grabbed and ripped apart from Violet again. Not that I would let it happen without a bitter fight.
My hand wrapped around my blade.
“Not again,” Violet muttered into my chest. “Please.”
I told her I would kill her before I ever allowed Rafael to take her again. I’d failed in that. I wouldn’t fail another time.
Light and sound and chaos flooded in with the bodies in military-like gear, all black, tactical, matching. Someone else came up from behind us, another man from the top of the stairs, like he’d climbed in from somewhere. We were surrounded.
Strangers, the enemy, with balaclavas over their faces to hide any features. I raised my knife, stroked Violet’s cheek as she gazed up at me, a silent conversation passing between us.
For a beat, I didn’t know if they were here to help us or Rafael. None of them had grabbed us yet; we were still together as they filed into the room, methodical and ominous. But I was braced. Ready to go. Take Vi with me.
The knife sat between us, ready to plunge into her heart then mine. We would go out together rather than apart, tortured and alone. We breathed together, eyes locked, one of my hands on the knife’s handle, the other twirling a lock of her hair.
The first real glimmer of hope came when one of the men charging down the stairs jumped over the banister, landing on a struggling Rafael. I hadn’t even noticed him fighting until that second, grappling with what looked like most of the new arrivals. They fought, but it was brief. Then the glint of a needle driving into Rafael’s neck.
He gasped, then slumped, then collapsed to the floor. Gone. Down. No one caught him.
Violet clung to me, afraid, but wide-eyed in relief that her husband was subdued, that these men… these people must be on our side. Fuck, I hoped they were on our side. But… who the fuck were they? I held Violet tighter as I looked for answers, seeking out a leader. But the knife in my grasp didn’t feel as heavy, as ending. I lowered it as I glanced around, waiting for a fucking explanation.
“Well, it sure is weird not seeing you on a screen,” Christian’s voice came from behind me, shock and confusion making me suck in a gasp. “Or hearing only your voice on the phone.”
I turned to the front door in surprise as my friend strode in. I hadn’t seen him in person for so long. His dark blond hair was scruffier than usual, a five o’clock shadow graced his usually neatly groomed jaw, and purple bags under his eyes indicated he’d broken his strict sleep schedule to be here.
Holy shit.
“Christian,” I breathed out my relief. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I moved towards him, bringing Violet with me, happiness at the sight of him lifting some of the anguish of the day away. Violet locked our hands together. No way was I letting her out of my grasp with all these strangers around. But Christian. He’d come to help, left his hovel in Chicago to help me. Fuck.
I almost cried from the relief of it all.
Christian took me in, looking from Violet to me, and back again. “You disappeared, mate. You both did.” He said it like it was so simple, like it was obvious. “I wasn’t going to do nothing.”
“You left your den,” I noted. Still surprised to see him out of his house. He only went out during college when he had to, always preferring the safety of his dorm room, then the small home he bought near campus. I dragged him out to bars, or to watch movies, but he always had one foot back behind closed doors.
“Again, you disappeared. What the hell was I supposed to do?” he asked, then frowned as he took me in slower. We must both look an absolute mess. Two weeks at least, unwashed, underfed and full of fresh trauma to unpack. Still, Christian flashed me a smile. “You still owe me that favor. But you can have a shower first.”
I laughed and pulled him into a hug, scruffing up his neck and squeezing. “I think that favor might have doubled.”
“Doubled?” Christian responded with a chuckle, giving me a jovial shove before looking over my shoulder. “I think more than doubled, you fucker.” He frowned when one of the other men ushered him over. “Give me a minute,” he said, walking off. Once again, I wondered who they were, how he’d gathered them up, but watching them standing over Rafael as they no doubt discussed his fate, in that moment I didn’t care. He’d probably hired a team of mercenaries on the dark web or some shit. I’d ask later.
Violet and I stood alone together, huddled up close with our fingers intertwined and our pulses matched fast. Her head fell onto my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to pull her in even closer, to press dozens of kisses onto her skin. Because we’d survived. Both of us. No one was following the other into death.
I’d be following her to a beach. To a new home. To a fucking ice cream cone in the sunshine.
“Christian as in the cabin owner, yes?” she asked, her brain clearly tired from how her words slurred. “He’s the one who’s been helping us over and over?”
“Yeah,” I responded, still watching everything unfold, but my grip on her remained tight. One of the men used his foot to shove Rafael flat on his back, laughing when my brother-in-law’s head bounced. “He’s a good guy.”
“A rare treat, then,” Violet said through a yawn. “I have a lot of questions.”
