He doesn't finish his sentence, but he doesn't have to. He clearly thought one of us was wounded…or maybe even dead…and I watch the panic subside on his face when he sees Rafael's dead body on the floor.
I tuck the gun into my waistband and spot Adeline's bracelet lying on the floor beside my foot. It must have fallen off during the struggle which is why the app showed her as having no heartbeat. I scoop it up and place it in my pocket with the intent on seeing what I can salvage and fix later.
Slowly, I approach Adeline, who looks like a scared, little, lost girl at the moment, and it makes that black hole where my heart should be ache with a pain I've never experienced before.
Her eyes dart to the dead body on the floor and then back to me. When I reach for her, I expect her to fight me, push me away. She knows I'm a killer now, willing to do anything to keep her safe and to keep her here with me. And I expect her hatred for what I've done right in front of her eyes.
I expect all of those things. What I don't expect is when she climbs off the bed and stumbles into my open arms, clinging to me like I'm her only lifeline, and sobbing against my chest.
"Lucien, Lucien, Lucien," she cries, repeating my name over and over again like it's a benediction on her lips as she weeps.
Slowly, I snake my arms around her and hold her tightly against me. My nose presses into the top of her head, and I inhale her coconut scent. I want to tell her so much in that moment.
Thank god I made it in time.
Thank god you're okay.
I'm so glad you're alive.
And I don't know why, but just the thought of losing you hurts so fucking much…like a thousand knives piercing my skin all at once.
But I tell her none of those things. Instead, I reach down and scoop her into my arms.
And then I carry her home.
CHAPTER 4
LUCIEN
I PACE THE floor several feet away as Jackson hovers over Adeline on the couch in the living room, assessing the damage that was done. Watching his fingers trailing over her perfect, delicate skin is making me insane with jealousy.
I don't even want to think about what the gardener did to her. The thought makes me rage with an anger I never knew before and makes me want to burn the entire world and everyone in it to the fucking ground.
If only she hadn't run.
But I can't change the past. I can only make her obey me in the future. I'm sure she's learned her lesson, but she can't be allowed to leave me.
Ever again.
I've never felt so fucking helpless as I watch Jax dressing her wounds and evaluating her condition. Adeline lies motionless on the couch, in and out of consciousness due in part from the medications Jax has given her to help with the pain.
The smell of blood and antiseptic takes me back to a time when my uncle finally rescued me from my wretched life. The first stop was to the hospital.I fucking hate hospitals. I hate doctors too, even though they were only trying to help me. I had grown to abhor being touched long before that day, and I almost lost my mind in that hospital from being poked and prodded over and over again.
Growing up, I feared any kind of affection only because I knew where it would eventually lead — soul-shattering pain.
My mother would cuddle up to me sometimes just to get me out of my hiding spots in the back of the closet or from under a bed or sofa. I fell for her tricks many times, but they all ended up the same way. Her smiling face would soon twist and morph into a horrible mask of hatred. All those soothing words would slowly turn into hate-filled screams. She would beat me until I couldn't walk, until I was a hollow, numb shell of my former self.
That's where her affection for me always led. The same horrible path every goddamn time.
My attention snaps to Jax as he slowly stands and walks over to me on the other side of the room. "She has a gash and a huge bump on the back of her head and a mild concussion," he tells me. "Lacerations, contusions, bruises. Lots of them," he adds. Swiping a hand down his face, he shakes his head. "She'll heal from all of those with time and rest." His eyes meet mine, and he hesitates for a long time, his brows furrowing. "Was Adeline…raped?" he asks so quietly I almost don't hear him.
The question chills me down to my very bones. I think about the situation I walked into. Adeline half naked and struggling on the bed while Rafael had his dirty, disgusting fingers wrapped around her delicate neck. His pants were still on, but his tiny cock was sticking out, rubbing against her thigh, trying to find its way into her core as he strangled her almost to the point of death.
Pulses of anger flash through me, causing my entire body to tremble with disquieting wrath. My hands clench into fists at my sides as the dark muscle in my chest pumps black blood faster and faster through every vein in my body.
I stare at Adeline's prone form, my vision clouding from the rage swirling around in my mind. She's helpless and so damn innocent. And she didn't ask for any of this.
If I had the chance, I would kill Rafael all over again. I would take his life again and again without even a moment's hesitation.
