He can find you here…
He can find me. Get to me. To my guys.
I can’t go back to that life.
“Hellfire.”
My vision blurs.
“Come on, Hel. Breathe.” Drake leans down so I’m looking directly into his eyes. Concern fills his features as he forces something into my hand. His knife…
He wraps my whole hand around the supple leather handle. I stare at it.
The handle is engraved in symbols that cut deep into the soft, smooth leather. I don’t understand their meaning but they’re stunning. The short blade is gorgeous with twin swirls racing each other to the point before curling in oppositedirections. I flip it over and on the other side the lines curl in to meet each other. The steel is shiny and well kept.
As I’m entirely focused on the knife, my vision clears and I suck in the deep breaths my lungs allow me to take.
“Good job, Hellfire,” Drake murmurs when he sees me come back to him.
Drake gently grips the back of my head, guiding me to his chest. I exhale shakily and lay my head on the soft material of his shirt.
One hand slides through my hair, the other flayed out across the middle of my back.
“If it goes to shit, Hel and they come for you, go to the cabin. You remember how to get there?” Drake says lowly in my ear.
I nod into his chest. I’ve only been there once but I memorised every turn, every tree we passed to get there.
“No one but you, me and Lindsey know so you’ll be safe there.” Drake promises.
I realise that I still have Drake’s knife clenched tightly in my hand. Lifting my head off his chest, I try to hand it back to him.
He shakes his head, insistently. “It’s yours.”
My mouth drops open and I attempt to push it into his hands. He takes it and flips it over to the side with the initials. “Look, Hel.”
I furrow my eyebrows. H.F? Then it hits me.
Hellfire.
“Drake.” I breathe. He hands it back to me and picks up his coffee, looking uncomfortable.
“It’s gorgeous,” I tell him. “I love it.”
I study the hilt a little more, running my finger absentmindedly over the indentations of the symbols.
Picking it up, I slowly slice the air with it. It’s light but deadly—obviously high quality based on the blade and design.
I gently place it down on the counter and jump down to fling my arms around Drake. He chuckles light, his arms encircling me.
“Thank you, Drake.” I smile into his jacket, the leather and spicy cologne tickling my nose.
Someone behind me clears their throat and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
“Dude, you really need a bell,” I tell Mason who just smirks.
“I got him one for Christmas,” Maverick announces, coming in after Mase. “He wouldn’t wear it.”
“It was a cat collar!” Mase throws his hands up.
