My hand involuntarily moves to the back of my waistband, finding the handle of my pretty pink gun. “And Charles? My brother? You knew about that as well?”
He blinks, then nods. “It was a terrible way to go. And so young. Believe me, Sabrina, the day I signed as his witness, there was no pride in my heart.”
The day he signed as his witness…
Vitriol rises like a fury I’ve never felt, lighting me up like a blazing inferno, reminding me I am Icarus, and I was made to burn. To fall. To fly. To ignite until this shell of mine is anew. Not a phoenix, per se. Something worse. Somethingdangerous. A perilous dragon protecting its horde.
Seething, I tug Pixie out of my pants and thumb the hammer down, shoving the barrel under his neck. “Your filthy grandson stood beside me at Charlie’s funeral. You stood beside him. Tell me, did David know?” Another grunt is heard outside of the door, and I know I’ve wasted too much time here. But I wait for his answer, never letting my eyes wander from his.
“Yes,” he rasps.
And it’s the last word he ever speaks. Brain mattersplatson the brilliant white wall, and he falls backward, the tumbler shattering on impact. I point my gun downward and shoot twice more. One to the chest, the other to his dick.
I’m still standing over him when the door to his office opens. I point my gun, ready to shoot, still vibrating with rage.
“Brina, baby, put it down.”
“Move!” I growl and pull the trigger.
He moves his head as the bullet grazes his ear and hits the fucker behind him, about to swing a machete, in the eye. He covers his ear, peering behind him for a second and then back at me. “Need more ammo, baby?”
I let my head bob up and down as he makes his way to me, stepping over Alfrederick’s corpse. “You okay?”
I glance at his ear. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head with a quick frown, mismatched eyes peering into my soul. “Nothing a band aid can’t fix, baby.”
I choke on the sob rippling up my chest and into my throat. “I love you, Savage.”
Parker shoves his arms around my middle and hauls me up for a kiss. My lips part to give him entry, to let him know he always has access to me. My mind. My heart. The kiss turns brutal, melting away the misery that wants to choke me, take me down, and swallow me whole. We pull apart, panting, desire flaring for the other; he kisses me one last time, softly, and then hands me more ammunition for Pixie.
I feed the bullets into the magazine at record speed like Bianchi taught me and shove it back into Pixie. This rare, exquisite extension of myself, then tuck my little pink beauty back into my waistband. “C’mon. Let’s find Alice.”
He follows me back to the hidden corridors, pulling out a small flashlight from one of his many tactical pockets, and we find the narrow staircase much quicker. He pushes the panel at the end open for me, and we climb out. No damage has been done to this area yet. In fact, it’s been completely untouched. It feels… wrong. “The room I was staying in. I told her to meet me there. To wait for me there. That I’d come get her.”
“You think maybe there’s a chance she’s not there?”
I inhale. “Something tells me she will be. And if not there, then the library.”
“Alright,” he dips his chin. “I’ll follow your lead. If I go first and she has a weapon, chances are she’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
But it is eerily silent in this wing. “Do you hear that?”
I love that with Parker I never have to overly explain myself; he seems to understand my every thought before I even voice it. That the silence up here is disturbing and it isn’t right. There’s a war going on not four meters below us, but it’s silent here? Improbable. “On it.” He lifts his finger to his ear and then says, “Aleksi. We’re in the North wing. It’s a little too quiet if you catch my drift.” I do not hear Aleksi’s response, but Parker sternly—-“No. Not the tank.We're on a rescue mission, remember?”
My eyebrows hike up to my forehead and I shake my head. Mother will not believe this. And if she so decides to write this story, the number of times I tell her‘I just couldn’t find it believable,’will be outrageous. As if a fictional story is supposed to be one hundred percent believable. I roll my eyes inwardly at the thought, grinning when I spot Bianchi and Rossi at the end of the hallway. I almost squeal in excitement.
“Have you found the girl?” Bianchi asks, his Staten Island accent so pronounced. God, I missed it.
“No,” Parker shakes his head, then makes a motion for us to follow him down the long hallway, where sure enough, the noise has somehow ceased. Or maybe the war raging downstairs has stopped, but I don't think that’s the case. Bianchi hands me a magazine full of ammunition, then pulls out another gun and hands it to Parker. They all turn and flank me as though I’m the most important, and there are too many people here, but the silence in the hallway only seems to grow louder, causing my ears to perk up.
“Something is very wrong,” I whisper as we tiptoe through until we reach the library. Parker places his hand on the knob and makes a shushing motion with his finger, gently pushing the door open and… it’s a fucking mess. Papers and books strewn everywhere, furniture flipped, glass from the coffee table is broken on the ground. The signs of a struggle are obvious.
“Alice?” I call out once we’re all inside.
“It’s empty, baby.”
But it doesn’tfeelempty. I step around him, keeping my gun to my side, loaded and ready to kill. That’s when I hear it, the tiniest whimpering noise. I follow it behind the sofa and find Alice on the ground, with a large piece of glass sticking out of her sternum. She lifts her hand when she sees me, and I drop down to get to her.
