Brent raced out of it, stopping to glance inside our limo, shouting, “He should have fucking waited for me! The damn place might be rigged!”
“No,” I stated, shaking my head. “They’re too scared of him to come anywhere near here again.” I remembered the sound of fear in their voices when we had heard the gunfire at the first place. “You guys almost found me the day I was taken. You went somewhere in the city, right?”
Everyone went quiet and nodded.
“We were in the basement. I heard the gunfire. They escaped with me through the old subway tunnels. They were scared, then. They wouldn’t come back here.”
Brent puffed out a breath, removing himself from the limo, and started pacing the length of it, eyeing the house.
I peered outside the open door, toward the woods.
We all heard Daniil’s shout from inside the house.
I didn’t move. I knew why he was shouting.
But his kids didn’t. They all dashed out of the limo, except for Roman.
Brent sprinted toward the house, along with Daniil’s children.
Roman, who stayed rigid with me in his arms, glanced down at me. “You’re safe. I’m staying with you.” His head cocked. “But you’re not scared hearing him. Why?”
I continued gazing out the door. “He found where they were keeping me. That’s why he shouted.”
We both turned our heads as we saw Brent stumble back just as he made it into the house, Daniil barreling out. Daniil leaned over, placing his hands on his knees and started sucking in great gulps of air. He was shooing his kids away, wiping at his eyes.
He eventually jerked upright and paced back and forth, his hands going to his head, guns still grasped in them. Grigori tried to talk to him, but he shouted again, making all of his kids scuttle back.
I was scared. I didn’t want to be here. And I was getting tired.
But…I couldn’t… I don’t know. I couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain.
I pushed off Roman, his arms losing to hold my hips and steady me when I almost stumbled. “I need to talk to him.”
“I know,” Roman said softly. He helped me out of the limo.
I stood and held the blanket around me, wobbling on the gravel, the cuts on my feet pulling through the bandages, but it didn’t hurt so much. Nothing like the way Daniil was hurting. Daniil turned on his next pace, and his eyes landed on my good one. A few furious tears had fallen down his cheeks, and he stopped in his tracks, staring at me. He pointed with one of his guns at the house, obviously not able to contain it, shouting, “How long?” He paused. “How fucking long did they keep you down there?”
His kids all froze, their expressions telling me they had never seen him this way before.
I didn’t want to say. He was already upset enough. “Daniil, let’s go. Have Zane and everyone in that limo take down any information and details you need. I want to go home.”
His cheeks flushed bright red as he bent forward and screamed, “How long?”
I wobbled, putting a bracing bandaged hand on Roman. “That was my Hell the entire time I’ve been gone.”
Daniil didn’t move. I don’t think he even breathed.
“Daniil, come on. Let’s go home,” I pled, my eyes wandering to the house. I couldn’t help I had started shaking so badly that Roman had to support me again. “Please, Daniil. Home.”
Daniil didn’t look any calmer, but he swallowed heavily. “Burn it,” Daniil growled, his gaze snapping to Brent. “Take every fucking print you can, then burn the fucking place, and the body downstairs, to the goddamn-fucking-ground. Understand?”
Brent nodded slowly, glancing behind Roman and me, jerking his head. “Let’s get this done.”
Zane and Stash moved from behind us toward the house where I hadn’t even realized they were. I was lifted off my shaking feet, and Daniil’s mouth was on mine. I hadn’t even heard him move, but I was suddenly wrapped in his arms, and his sweet lips were on mine.
The kiss was gentle, which I didn’t blame him since I hadn’t brushed my teeth in, well, forever, but I whimpered against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck. I held on tight. He was it for me.
His sweet breath fanned over my face when he pulled his face away. But when I opened my eyes, peering up at him, I knew he was trying to contain it. He was…well, there weren’t any words for it. Pissed wasn’t a good word. Nor was furious. Or even murderous. He was past all that. He was ready to set the world on fire. I would gladly let him as long as I lit the match.
