Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"

Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

“One down, four to go.” A gun was cocked. “Who wants to piss me off next?”

It was a tossup who was more stunned by the figure standing just inside the patio doors, smoking gun raised. Juliette was the first to break out of her shock.

“Arlo?” By far the very last person in the world she ever expected to see coming to her rescue. “What…?”

Brown eyes never wavering from her, he raised the hand not holding the gun and brought it to his mouth.

“Got her. Sixth boat. Don’t even,” he warned when Delgado began pulling Juliette backwards. “Let her go.”

Delgado’s arms only tightened further, crushing her. Their feet tangled as he continued guiding her further away towards the secret compartment at the back. Juliette dug her heels in. She put all her weight down, refusing to be taken anywhere.

Another bang exploded and a perfect, black hole smoldered inches from Delgado’s foot.

“Not going to say it again,” Arlo said, twisting the hammer back. “Let her go.”

Against her shoulder blade, Delgado’s heart hammered. His hot breath washed along the back of her neck, making her skin prickle. She tried to jerk away. She tried stomping on his foot and clawing at his arms, but he was adamant about keeping her as his own personal human shield.

“Counting to three,” Arlo went on. “One … two—”

“Juliette?”

Like a beautiful sunrise over a majestic landscape, Killian charged through the patio doors behind Arlo and immediately took possession of all the air in the room. His very presence shrank all her fears. It smothered every ounce of the nightmare she’d been living the last couple of weeks. Suddenly, there was no room for anything but an unimaginable happiness at the sight of him.

“Killian!”

Dark eyes found hers. They roamed over her once before noticing the man holding her. They went impossibly black with rage. His chin rose a notch as every hard line of his body stiffened. Before her eyes, he seemed to grow in size as power and dominance radiated off him in dangerous waves.

“You’re surrounded,” he stated evenly. “There are roughly twenty men aboard this ship at this very moment. The odds of you making it off alive are very slim either way, but if you don’t get your hands off her, I can promise you’ll wish I’d killed you.”

Delgado released her instantly. For good measure, he staggered back and nearly fell over the unconscious—or possibly dead—body of Alcorn.

Juliette didn’t let him get very far. Bolting forward, she snatched the laptop off the table and swung it across his head. The machine made a distinct crack as the screen shattered and snapped off. Delgado flew backwards, tripped over Alcorn and hit the ground with a sickening crunch as his head ricocheted off the bar.

Panting, Juliette dropped the bit of computer she still held and stomped on it, breaking off keys and cracking plastic. Not sure if that was enough to destroy the files, she grabbed the whiskey bottle off the counter and dumped the whole thing on top.

“Juliette…”

Shivering and rapidly falling apart, Juliette spun and flung herself into Killian’s waiting arms. One hooked around her middle while the hand on the other closed in her hair, mashing her face into his shoulder. Her own arms locked around his ribs. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his coat as she inhaled his soothing scent. She clasped him close to stifle the broken sounds struggling up her throat, the ones that rocked through her very core in violent waves. Tears burned, amplifying the urge to break and just sob for all she was worth. But not yet. She couldn’t. She needed to hold on a little longer.

“Are you hurt?” The question was an uneven growl.

Juliette shook her head. “You came.” Her breath caught around the words. Her voice broke. “You really came.”

“Nothing was going to stop me.” His arms tightened. “God, Juliette.”

A bang made them both jump. Something shattered.

“Don’t you even,” Arlo warned, gun aimed at Cyril. Broken pieces of glass lay at his feet from the lamp Arlo had shot. “I’ve got a clear shot at your head and no one’ll miss you.”

“Oh!”

Pulling out of Killian’s embrace, Juliette hurried to Alcorn. She dropped down and unhooked the ring of keys from his damp belt loop. She ignored the smear of blood as she tore them free.

“Juliette, what…?”

Ignoring the question, she ran to the compartment door. It took some fiddling and prodding before she found the secret panel that unlatched the door. It hissed open.

“It’s okay.” She promised when Killian started after her. Not waiting, she sprinted down the stairs. “Maraveet? Maraveet, get up!”

The woman’s head shot up out of her folded arms and she blinked her green eyes. They widened at the sight of Juliette. Then shot past her to the open door.

“What…?”

“Come on!” Juliette urged, flipping through the keys until she found the right one. She undid the door and rushed inside to help Maraveet to her feet. “It’s okay,” she said. “Killian’s here.”

“Killian?” A grin spread across the woman’s face. “I knew he’d come.”

Panting, Juliette tightened her grip as they shuffled to the stairs. “Don’t forget the plan.”

Maraveet growled under her breath. “It’s a stupid plan! Let Killian kill them all.”

“No! You promised!”

Maraveet shook her head. “There’s something wrong with you. Fine,” she muttered when Juliette stopped walking. “I’ll follow the plan.”

Relieved that Killian would be one less thing she would need to worry about, Juliette started onward, dragging Maraveet up each step carefully. Her mind was a painfully organized compartment of everything she needed to do before the sun came up, everything she’d dutifully worked over and practiced in her head for the last two weeks. It didn’t even dawn on her that it wasn’t normal to be that calm about such a situation. In a reality, she should have been a mess. And she would be. Just not in that moment.

The revolting crack of flesh on bone greeted them at the top. The shrill cry of pain with every clap. The grunts that followed. Certain Cyril’s men had somehow gotten the upperhand, Juliette hurled herself and Maraveet through the door and into the second level.

Arlo stood exactly where she’d left him, by the patio doors, holding his gun out at men who weren’t even moving. Frank was at his shoulder, calmly watching the scene unfolding in the sitting area where Killian had Cyril pinned to the carpet. One knee was gouged into the younger man’s thin chest, spearing him to the ground as Killian beat all ten, balled fingers into his beautiful face, or what used to be beautiful. It was a broken, bloody mess.

“Killian!”

Juliette’s cry jarred him from the spell he seemed to be under, the one that had his face as dark as his eyes and his teeth bared like a wolf’s. His head snapped up, his nostrils flared as though anticipating the thought of beating the hell out of someone else. When he spotted no other threat, he let his hands drop. The torn and bleeding fingers unfurled at his sides.

“Mar?” Killian’s face went slack with shock. He pushed up, making sure to put his weight on the knee crushing Cyril’s chest. The boy gasped and curled onto his side. His entire body jerked with every cough. Blood speckled the ground by his face. Killian didn’t notice as he bound over the body and hurried to his sister. “What the hell are … what did they do to you?”

Maraveet groaned. “Had a tea party. They served the wrong tea. Things got real.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” he snarled, already turning back.

“No!” Juliette cried. “Maraveet needs a doctor. She’s hurt badly.”

That made him pause. His murderous gaze shot from Maraveet to Cyril, his mind visibly torn between helping his sister and killing the bastard who put her in the position. The right choice won when he reached for Maraveet with a frustrated growl.

“Come on.”

“God bless you.” Maraveet went into her brother’s arms. He scooped her up against his chest, and while the gesture was gentle, Maraveet cried out. “Gentle!” she snapped. “I’m fragile.”

Her teasing was met with a frown from Killian as he carted her to the patio doors. Another figure moved in as though anticipating and took Maraveet from him. He set her gently into the arms of one of his men and instructed him to take her straight to the car. Then he turned and motioned Juliette over.

“Go with them,” he ordered.

Juliette shook her head. “No, Marco—”

“I know.” His gaze flicked away from her, but not before she caught the pain in them. It radiated along the set slant of his jaw and ticked in the muscle in his cheek. “He’s not around anymore.”

Juliette tensed. “Did … did you…?”

Killian looked away, his jaw set. “No, he did it himself. Guilt and shame, I guess.”

She didn’t want to know what that meant, but she had a feeling that hurt Killian more than Marco’s betrayal had.

“Come with me,” she urged. “We’ll phone the police and—”

Frank stepped into the space behind Arlo, his massive frame filling the threshold.

“The ship has been cleared, sir. There were only the…” he trailed off as he studied the unmoving bodies strewn throughout the place with more than a little surprise. “Five men,” he finished lamely.

Killian nodded. “Get everyone restrained. Take Juliette to a car and drive her to the hospital straightaway. I will meet you there once I am finished here.”

“No!” Juliette turned to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was ridiculous, only moments earlier, she couldn’t wait to get off that ship without a body bag. But she knew if she left, Killian would kill Cyril and all his men and, while they might deserve it, they didn’t deserve that piece of him. There had already been too much killing. It needed to stop. Someone needed to make it stop.

“You need to be seen,” Killian said firmly.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “But please don’t do this. There has already been so much bloodshed and pointless deaths and it will never stop if you don’t stop it.”

“I say kill him,” Arlo piped in, his gun barrel never wavering from Cyril, who had struggled to his feet, his face bloody and his pretty suit ruined. His right eye had already swollen shut. “Toss him overboard and let someone find him in the spring.”

Killian never took his eyes off Juliette, his features thoughtful, his gaze searching. “If I let him live, he will come back. He will never stop. This is the only way.”

“No!” Her fingers tightened on his sleeves. “No, just call the police, let them take him in. I will testify. I will make sure he goes in—”

“He won’t stay there forever, Juliette,” Killian broke in. “And he deserves to die for what he did to you.”

And Molly and Maraveet, the voice in her head chimed.

“He and his family don’t deserve another piece of you,” she whispered. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

Killian frowned. “Family?”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Cyril’s voice broke through the silence that followed Juliette’s plea. “You can almost believe for a moment that she really could save you.”

Killian raised his eyes over Juliette’s head and pinned them on the man standing five feet away. He seemed to really be looking at him for the first time. Juliette couldn’t help wondering if he’d even said two words to Cyril before beating the shit out of him.

“Who…?” It seemed to dawn on him slowly. She could see the confusion melting into shock and confusion. The lines deepened as his eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted into his hairline. “Erik Yolvoski. How is this possible? You’re dead.”

Cyril smirked around a swollen mouth. “Perhaps I am a ghost.” He spread his arms out to his sides. “How else can I possibly be here, hmm?”

Killian’s shock wore down to annoyance that tightened the corners of his mouth. “I was at your funeral. I watched them put you into the ground.”

Cyril blinked. His head bent to one side as he regarded Killian with a new sort of suspicion.

“You went?” His lips curled back. “Why? To gloat?”

“You were fifteen. What pleasure was I to derive from your death?” Killian countered. “I went to pay my respects to a child who died too soon.”

“Or was it guilt?” Cyril spat back. Blood dribbled from his lip in a long, pinkish ooze of spit to stain his ruined top. “After all, you were the reason I needed to die, needed to erase myself from the world and start fresh.”

Killian’s shoulders lifted in a deep inhale that flared his nostrils. “I can’t help being disappointed,” he said at last, sadness weaving through the tight confession. “In my mind, I always saw you as that thirteen year old boy who threw himself in front of danger to protect his mother. The boy with so much potential. I honestly believed you would better yourself, change the course laid out before you. I thought perhaps seeing what happened would show you just how senseless this life really is. But here you are, doing exactly what your father would have.”

“My father was a great man!” Cyril snarled through clenched teeth. “He was a loving father and a good husband and he—”

“Died begging for his life!” Killian interjected with a snarl. “He was a coward. He was a murderer, a rapist, and a coward. You might have turned him into a martyr to justify the things you have done, but you could have been better. I had hoped you would be better.” Dark eyes snapped over and found Juliette’s. They exchanged silent glances for a full minute before he faced Cyril once more. “I would like nothing better than to kill you. The world is a horrible enough place without you in it. Fortunately for you, Juliette has appointed herself the savior of my soul and she has asked me to let you live. So, I will. For now. But you will not leave this ship in one piece—” He ignored Juliette squeak of protest. “—not even Juliette will save you there. It will be the sort of pain you cannot even imagine. I can promise that. I will make sure you regret ever touching her and when I am done, I will dedicate my life to watching your every move very closely. If I get so much as a whisper of something I don’t like, I will personally put a bullet through your head. Do you understand?”

The frothing fury swirling around Cyril crackled like livewires, but it was splintered with fear. Sparks flashed across his eyes and the look on his face was sheer rage in its purest form.

“Tamed,” he hissed around a disgusted curl of his lips. “The great Killian McClary, the Scarlet Wolf, the monster everyone speaks of in hushed whispers, tamed by his bitch. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You are weak and so long as you are, your kingdom will crumble down around you while you lay dying amongst the rubble. I might not be the one to end you, but I will relish the day you die.”

Juliette didn’t know what possessed her. Maybe it was being tortured for the last several weeks. Maybe it was being called a bitch, or maybe it was just to shut him up, but she was marching forward before she knew it. Her arm snapped back and she drove five balled fingers of hatred straight into the delicate line of his slender jaw. The impact sang up her arm in a flurry of pain, but the snap of his teeth, the crack of his neck as his head flew back was a sound she would bask in for a very long time. He crashed to the floor with a weak cry. Fresh blood welled over his puffy lip and dribbled down his chin and she hoped she’d broken a few of his teeth.

“That’s for Molly,” she decided. “And this…” She pulled back her leg and let it swing forward with all her strength behind it right between his legs. The sound he made was one of air being let out of a balloon. His entire face went a frightening shade of purple and red as he curled onto his side, clutching his gut. In that state, he was neither beautiful nor regal. He was pathetic. “That’s for Maraveet.”

Satisfied, she turned and hurried back to the patio doors, so ready to get the hell off that stupid boat. Arlo, Frank, and Killian watched her as she joined them. Arlo’s gun wielding arm dropped down to his side now that there was no one to point it at. His expression was something between amused and impressed. Frank had no expression at all, but his eyes did twinkle, which made her feel good. Killian simply met her gaze, the dark fire in his eyes shot through with a liquid heat she recognized as arousal. She said nothing to any of them as she hurried out onto the deck.

The cold predawn air clawed at her, licking at the sweat dampening her skin and making her shiver. It had begun to snow, adding a fresh layer across the city. She breathed it in, letting the cruel fingers of winter burn into all her exposed skin and become a reminder that she’d made it. That Cyril had been wrong. That she wasn’t weak. The world of shadows and darkness hadn’t claimed her. She had fought and won. It was the greatest victory a person could ever accomplish and she had done it. Granted, not alone, but she had survived. More importantly, she hadn’t given up.

There was an almost skip to her steps as she hurried down the frozen plank onto the docks. Her boots thumped as she ran down the path in the direction of the lights ahead. It was far, but she didn’t stop. She pumped her legs and let the cold cut into her lungs like serrated shards of glass. The wood ended on icy dirt running alongside the frozen river. She ducked beneath a series of broken beams that had once been a bridge and kept running until she was at the incline leading up to a parking lot filled with cars and lights and voices.

“Miss Romero!” John jogged over to her, his coat flapping in the night like wings.

Juliette laughed and hurried to meet him halfway. She hugged him. She didn’t care that he tensed all over as though she’d suddenly grown a second head and tried to eat him. He was a sight for sore eyes.

He patted her awkwardly on the back before carefully detaching and taking a step away.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

Juliette smiled. “Thank you for finding us.”

He looked away. “Didn’t do overly much, ma’am. But we’re glad you’re safe.”

“We?”

He stepped aside to reveal the other five figures silhouette against the headlights of a parked SUV. The sight of her little group brought tears to her eyes. It tightened the muscles of her throat until she couldn’t breathe. John took her elbow gently and guided her forward.

“You guys came.” The words came out in a strangled croak.

“Just doing our duty, ma’am,” Tyson murmured.

She embraced each of them in turn before stepping back and smiling sheepishly at their uncomfortable shifting.

“Thank you.”

There were nods, but no one spoke.

Jake finally stepped forward. “We have been given orders to take you to the hospital.”

Juliette didn’t protest. Going to the hospital was all part of the plan. It was where she needed to be if she was to save Killian and put Cyril behind bars. She let herself be guided to the SUV and helped inside the cozy interior. Jake climbed in behind the wheel while Melton claimed the passenger’s seat. John and Tyson squeezed in on either side of Juliette, flagging her. She wasn’t sure where Javier and Laurence went off to, but she suspected to get a second SUV to follow them.

Juliette relaxed against the warm leather. “Where’s Maraveet?”

“Miss Árnason insisted she be taken to the hospital,” Tyson answered.

Good! Juliette thought. Step one was complete.

“Where’s my sister? Has anyone checked on her? Is she all right?”

“Miss Romero will meet us at the hospital,” Jake assured her. “She’s been informed of your safe recovery and is on her way with Phil.”

Juliette exhaled. She lay her head back and closed her eyes.

It was over. It was finally over.

Chapter 29

Killian didn’t care what anyone said, hospitals were portals into limbo. It was the place tormented souls went to wait and wither to nothing. It was the place run by Satan and his white clad minions with their needles and sour faces. The whole lot of them made him want to strangle somebody, quite possibly the pissy little nurse who kept telling him to please wait. If he heard those two words one more time, he might forget his promise to Juliette not to commit anymore murders.

Square slabs of moonlight punched into the speckled linoleum between his feet. The brightness made his eyes water, but he continued to sit hunched over, elbows braced on his knees to study the glow. Around him, people went about their business, rushing in the way only people in the hospital did, with hurried strides and set faces. No one gave him a second glance. Overhead, some woman kept buzzing doctors to this room or that in a dry monotone drawl that grated on his nerves. Then there was the god awful stench of floor cleaner, antiseptic and misery. The latter was oddly the worst. It seemed to be pouring from the ceiling and oozing down the walls. Yet, he remained. He sat waiting for the elusive and possibly invisible doctor to finish twiddling his thumbs long enough to tell Killian Maraveet’s status. It had been hours and not a single person had gone in or out of those doors. Were they all taking a coffee break together?

He was just about to go harass the frazzled woman at the front counter again when the magical doors finally swung open and a nurse hurried out. Her head was bent over a clipboard, but she looked up, looked around and spotted him. Her small face lit up.

“Mr. Hutchinson?”

Killian glanced over his shoulder at the row of empty chairs. Then back at the woman, certain she had the wrong person.

“Sorry?”

Smile melting into uncertainty, the nurse peeked at her notes again. “Callum Hutchinson?”

It took him a second to connect Maraveet’s very clever dots, but he caught on quick enough and got to his feet.

“Aye?” He moved closer. “Is my…?” he trailed off, not sure what Maraveet had stated him as.

“Sister?” the nurse hedged carefully, like she wasn’t entirely sure either and wasn’t sure why he wasn’t sure.

“My sister, yes. How is she?” Killian said quickly.

Blue eyes dropped down to the forms in her hands. “The doctors just left her after running multiple tests to make sure there was no internal damage. They did several x-rays and blood work that hasn’t come in yet, but—”

“Is my sister all right?” he cut in.

She smiled. “She’ll be fine. She’s banged up a little, but nothing to be worried about. The police are in there with her now, but if you—”

Killian stiffened. “The police?”

Her smile faded. “Yes, she insisted we call—”

He moved past her and charged through the doors, ignoring her when she called after him. It took several aggravating minutes of searching before he found her, nearly at the end of a very long hallway.

Sure enough, there were two police officers standing at her bedside, both in full uniform. Maraveet sat propped against a mountain of pillows while she listened to whatever the shorter of the two was saying. He expected her to be in cuffs, but they were talking to her as though she were the victim. In a sense, she was, but if they knew who she was, the situation would change very quickly.

“And you didn’t recognize the men?”

Maraveet shook her head. “No.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” the taller one asked.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“And the other woman?”

“Juliette? They brought her in a couple of weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t know her before then?”

“No.”

The shorter one jotted her response down while his partner continued to ask his questions. Maraveet was light on her answers, sticking to yes and no and only giving short explanations when absolutely necessary. Her posture was relaxed, but he could just make out the slight twitch in her fingers. He had no idea what she was playing at, but it was a dangerous game calling the police in. He was stunned that she would. Maraveet hated the police and they hated her with good reason; criminals and cops would never see eye to eye.

“Thank you.” He tucked his notepad away and the two took a step away from the bed. “We’ll keep in touch if we hear anything else.”

Killian ducked out of the doorway and made his way to a bulletin board against the far wall. He kept his back turned until the clip of footsteps faded somewhere in the opposite direction. Once certain they weren’t coming back, he stepped into Maraveet’s room and shut the door behind him.

“What was that?” Killian asked, moving to take their place next to Maraveet’s bed.

“That was your girlfriend’s idea,” she hissed through her teeth. The calm façade she’d been holding onto for the police was gone. In its place was a sheen of sweat across her brow and trembling hands. “She’s a bloody menace, you know that right? An absolute nut.”

“What idea?” he demanded.

Maraveet ignored him as she picked at the tape holding her IV needle in place along the back of her hand. “Should never have listened. It was pity is what it was,” she grumbled to herself. “I felt bad so I agreed. Never doing that again. Bloody cops.”

“Maraveet!” Killian snapped. “What did you two do?”

“Apparently we told the truth to save you!” she cried with great exaggeration.

“What truth?”

She tore the needle out and pitched it aside. Her hand closed around the blankets next as she struggled to heave herself off the bed.

“Ask her!” She rolled to her feet and swayed. “It was her stupid idea.” Moving with a slight limp, she hurried to the folded chair containing her coat and shoes and tossed both on. The coat took a bit longer without jostling her ribs. “They’ll return the second they find my prints on that boat and I don’t intend to stick around.” She paused and glanced at him. “I’ll wait for you at home.”

Killian nodded. “Be careful.”

She rushed to the door and peered out. The coast must have been clear, because she was gone before he could blink.

At least she’s all right, he told himself with a weary sigh.

He left the room and made his way to the other end of the hospital, the end where they were holding Juliette. Every stride was quick and determined, carrying him through the enormous structure at a near run. He told himself it was because he wanted to know what kind of scheme she and Maraveet had cooked up, but the truth of the matter was that he needed to see her, needed to know she was all right. His quick glimpse of her on the boat hadn’t assured him of anything. He still had no idea just how extensive her injuries were, not just beneath her clothes, but in her mind. Something like that left dark prints on the soul. It was like rot beneath the glossy peel of an apple, hidden from sight, but slowly devouring the fruit until it was festering. He couldn’t allow that to become Juliette. It would be just one more evil he’d brought into her life and he couldn’t stand it.

He caught sight of Frank first. He stood at the end of the hall, away from Juliette’s room, but close enough to keep an eye on her door. Sitting or leaning along that same wall was Phil, John, Melton, Tyson, and Jake who were void of their weapons, but still wore their cargo pants and black coats. And since Phil was there, Killian suspected Vi was somewhere inside with Juliette.

“What’s the news?” He stopped next to Frank.

“Cops,” was all the other man said, his face set as he watched the doorway leading into Juliette’s room. “They had questions for Miss Romero.”

Killian nodded. “They just finished talking to Maraveet. She’s gone.” He added when Frank looked over at him. Killian exhaled. “Any idea what the questions are?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t understand how they knew. The letter we left with young Yolvoski said nothing of Miss Romero or Miss Árnason. Do you think he told them?”

Killian shook his head. “Erik wouldn’t know we would take Juliette or Maraveet to the hospital and he’s not stupid enough to confess to his crimes.”

“Then how…?”

“Juliette,” Killian muttered. “Maraveet said this was all part of her plan.”

Frank frowned. “Her plan?”

Killian only shrugged, not understanding that woman either. “How is she?”

“I overheard the doctor say she was fine. Dehydrated mostly. A few bruises. But she’ll be okay.”

“She seemed okay,” Killian mused.

Frank nodded very slowly, dark eyes pinned to the open doorway. “Young Cruz may have mentioned that Miss Romero had already incapacitated the men before you arrived.”

Memories of how beautiful and fierce Juliette had been on that boat swelled over him like a warm flood of sunlight. It laced with pride and a smug sort of satisfaction he really had no right to feel, but couldn’t stop. She hadn’t let them take her down without a fight. She had stood her ground and kicked the shit out of them. If he wasn’t already madly in love with her, that would have solidified his resolve.

“Aye, she did. She was amazing.”

“She’s very special,” Frank went on casually. “Not the kind of woman you’re likely to find again.”

Killian shot him a sidelong glance. “Are you trying to say something, Frank?”

“No sir. Just making an observation.”

The officers left Juliette’s room. Killian tilted his head away until they were out of sight.

He contemplated walking away, just leaving and not looking back. It would have certainly made things easier, not just for him, but for Juliette who wouldn’t have been in the hospital had it not been for him. It was his fault her life had become so fucked up. But his body had all but shut his brain off, refusing to listen as it started forward. The sweet sound of Juliette’s laughter greeted him before he reached the threshold. It tangled with Vi’s voice as she explained all the things Juliette had missed in her absence.

“That is horrible!” Juliette was saying in between fits of giggles. “He must have been so angry.”

“No!” Vi said. “I mean, I totally expected him to strangle me, but he didn’t.”

“There might still be time for that later.” Juliette laughed. “I hope you apologized at least.”

“I might have momentarily considered it.”

The two burst out in giggles again that made Killian shake his head slightly in amusement. But at least she sounded happy, he thought. She would never forget what happened, but at least she hadn’t let it darken her ability to move past it. That was what he wanted, for her not to live in those couple of weeks. If he had his way, he’d make her forget it entirely.

Then maybe you should let her go, said the sensible voice in his head, the one pinning him to the floor right outside the room. Seeing you would only bring back everything that happened to her. It will remind her of what you did and how you weren’t able to keep her safe.