There is nothing. No sign of Hamish. Just the churning, endless crashing of the waves, that lonely old sound of my youth, a nightmare that drowned everything else. The sea again claiming someone I once loved.
Fifty-Three
Josie
I’m still standing on a motherfucking island with a motherfucking castle—apparently in Scotland—and Axe just shoved Niles von Grafenhagen right off a motherfucking cliff.
Oh, and his severed hand is still lying somewhere in the dirt.
One second he was here, bleeding and gasping—the next second, gone.
Well, good riddance to that psycho.
“Josie, are you okay? Christ, let me see.”
Axe tosses the axe—a literal motherfucking axe—and turns toward me, dropping to one knee like some worried knight. He pulls out an actual handkerchief to dab at my bleeding shin. Who even carries those anymore, especially when wearing head-to-toe fatigues? “Did he touch you?”
His voice is shaking. But not because he just yeeted his own brother off a cliff. Axe is on the verge of tears—for me. Weirdly enough, I’ve actually never felt better in my life.
Five minutes ago, Niles was holding a gun to my head, but at no point did I actually think I was going to die. Not after everything I’ve been through.
Not when I’ve got so much left to live for.
For the first time in…forever, I feel strong. Brave. Even ecstatic. Like I could take on anything. And for once, I don’t have to fake it with some plastic-ass smile. It’s too bad my phone’s probably sunk in the sea, because I’d love to delete that stupid JosieFightsOn account right now in a blaze of freedom. And while I’m at it, I’d block my mother, too.
“I’m fine,” I say, and Axe gets to his feet, cradling my face in his big, calloused hands like he’s checking to see if I’m lying.
Tearsare actually falling down his cheeks—he’s not even trying to hide them.
This is the real Axe MacKenzie, and I swear, I could not love this man more.
He pulls me into one of his full-body hugs, wrapping his massive arms around me, and I feel my whole body relax. I feel safe enough to finally let go—to hand over some of the broken pieces I’ve been carrying for way too long.
“You okay?” I ask him.
My question catches him off guard, like no one’s ever asked him that before. He’s decked out in full camo, looking like a badass action hero, just like that time I saw him in his office—soaked from the rain in his motorcycle gear. But even teary-eyed, he looks invincible.
“That was…your brother, Hamish? And this is your dad’s island? Both of them were, um, sex traffickers?” I ask, because we kind of need to clear that up.
Axe nods, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I’d never forgive myself if he hurt you. I thought I’d lost you, Josie. I thought he might—” His voice cracks, like he can’t even say it out loud. He thought Hamish might kill me.
“You think von Frankenface could take me down? Never,” I say with a grin. And it feels true now. I’ll never be anyone’s victimagain. I spin around, taking in the huge, awe-inspiring castle behind me. “So…you grew up here? That’s totally wild. Are you even aware that you have an actual moat?”
“Aye. Stocked with actual eels,” says Axe.
I burst out laughing, because it is all so ridiculous and, of course, also terrible.
Axe’s phone buzzes. He glances down at it, his shoulders tensing up in a way that makes my heart lurch. He sighs and flips the phone around to show me the text from someone named Hawk.
Got a live one. Woman trying to make a break for it by sea. What do you want me to do with her?
“Petrov’s wife, Veronica. She was here,” I say.
Axe nods. “She must have seen Hamish go over and panicked.”
Take care of it, he types, then he pockets the phone.
I have to admit I get a little turned on by how quickly he dispatches the problem. Mrs. Petrov does not deserve to live. I don’t feel even the slightest moral qualm imagining the life squeezed from her throat.
