Текст книги "Twisted Together"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

No!

“Don’t you fucking touch her. You have me. Do whatever the hell you want but leave her the fuck alone!”

Rage. Blinding, suffocating rage. I couldn’t do it. He’d stolen the luxury of slipping into death. He’d taken away my will to die, replacing it with the terror of knowing I could do nothing to stop him.

Tess!

“Do you hear me? You stay the fuck away from her.”

I couldn’t let them take her again. I didn’t care that Franco would never let her out of his sight. He had his orders. If he didn’t find me in time, his loyalty was to her. He would give his life to protect hers—just as he did for me.

Lynx laughed. “You aren’t in the position to tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re going to die, Mercer, but at least you won’t be alone in hell for long. She’ll be joining you soon enough.” The knife pricked my cock again. “Pity for you, you won’t have a dick to use when you see her again.”

“Ne pas la toucher. Vous ne pouvez pas la toucher.” Don't touch her. You can't touch her.

“Speaking in French doesn’t work on a Spaniard, idiot.” He removed the blade. “Cover him.”

I sucked in gulp of air as the wet towel descended over my face. My heart bucked with terror. I had to warn Franco, Frederick. I had to get Tess to safety. She wouldn’t die because of me. She wouldn’t!

“Begin,” Dante ordered.

The cascade started anew, drowning me with the aid of a simple cloth.

My lungs turned to fire. Seconds flew toward minutes as more and more water cascaded. I forced myself not to suck in the towel, desperate for breath.

Unconsciousness tried to claim me but I fought it. I couldn’t. Tess!

But no matter how hard I held on, my brain shut down, body jerked; I died with every pour.

My life didn’t exist apart from the black water-world. My thoughts scrambled. Tess. Air. Tess. Air.

I wanted both in equal measure. I wanted to run. I wanted to be free.

Tess morphed into being. Her gorgeous blonde curls, her all seeing blue-grey eyes. A halo of light appeared behind her, fading her from view as my heart threw itself toward its last beat.

Tess, run. Please.

Her presence never left me as a wave of heavy water splashed over me. I toppled on the edge, gasping, choking. Lynx overestimated my lung capacity—hurtling me toward death.

The last torrent of liquid was my demise.

Don’t give up. You can’t. I owed it to Tess to stay alive. I had to protect her. I had to be there for her always.

“Come with me, Q. Let go. It’s better this way.” The illusion grabbed me by the hands, dragging me forward. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice.

My body gave up. Suffocated of air it shut down—snipping my life-force free from pain.

The agony faded, inch by inch, ache by ache, until I felt nothing.

Nothing but weightlessness…nothingness.

Sounds faded. The strain in my lungs no longer mattered.

Life tiptoed away from me, taking with it any promise of happiness I might’ve found by marrying my soul-mate.

But my soul-mate wanted me to leave with her. Her golden hand outstretched, glowing with welcome light. She wanted me to leave this black cold place.

I could be with her forever.

I want to be with you forever, esclave.

“Then let go. I’m waiting.”

I didn’t think why she appeared when she was living not dead. I didn’t stop to ponder how she found me. All I knew was what I wanted. And I wanted her.

I let go. I went to her. I obeyed my esclave.

Dying was such a simple thing.

I felt no guilt, no terror, no worries. Only acceptance for something I couldn’t change.

Darkness came for me.

My golden girl stuttered out.

The light she’d teased me was gone.

The sun turned to an eclipse and…I fell. Like an unwanted star I fell from the promise of heaven and plummeted to where I belonged.

Falling, falling.

Falling.

I fell straight into hell.

Chapter Thirteen

Matching darkness, mirroring light, truth and love we took flight,

one esclave and one maître , no longer captive or thief, just perfect certainty and belief

Franco’s phone rang.

I froze. Instincts screamed, slicing sharp fingernails of panic down the chalkboard of my spine.

The car turned from saviour, rushing us to Q’s aid, to a decaying coffin.

“Don’t—”

Franco glanced over, his vivid eyes dulling with horror. “I have no choice.” Shoving his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out the chiming doom.

Don’t let it be. Don’t.

We were almost there. The plane ride had driven me crazy—I would’ve sold my heart to be teleported or something to get us there faster. We’re so close!

It won’t be. It can’t be.

I couldn’t breathe as Franco held the phone to his ear. His face went deadly white. Not uttering a word, he passed the cell to me.

My fingers turned to ice-cubes; all I wanted to do was hurl the phone from the car window, smashing the bad news before it could be made real.

It’s not true.

He’s fine.

The phone was a vulture stealing my happiness as I placed it to my ear.

“Tess?” Frederick’s voice echoed all the way from Paris.

My heart went from beating to nothing. His tone said all I needed to know. I couldn’t move. Locked in my chair, I became a statue of grief.

Frederick sucked in a shaky breath. “You there? Tess?”

I knew.

I knew why he called. It didn’t matter we were ten minutes away. It didn’t matter we had an army behind us. It didn’t fucking matter. None of it.

Because my maître was gone.

I’d felt it.

An empty hollowness inside—gaping wide, cavernous.

“Don’t, Frederick.”

A long pause. No one spoke, breathed, lived. The world shut down forever.

“I’m so sorry, Tess…the frequency. It stopped.”

My heart replicated his words—turning from living to stone. The dawn on the horizon mocked me with a new beginning when I no longer had one.

My finger went to the reject button, cutting the call just as Frederick whispered, “He’s dead.”

He’s dead.

He’s gone.

He left without me.

Very slowly with infinite control, I passed the phone to Franco. He took it, brushing his fingers with mine. “Tess…”

I recoiled. I didn’t want anyone touching me. No one. Never again. Loving was a weakness. Touch was an annihilation. Q had destroyed me.

He’s gone.

The words pierced my heart with a thousand needles, puncturing my soul. He’s gone.

Everything inside—all the goodness, happiness, hopefulness…everything shrivelled up. My will to live turned to black ash, sifting from my pours like dirty rain. Everything I’d been through. It’d all been pointless.

He fucking left me.

Bastard.

Anger was better than grief. It filled the cavernous hole, giving me something to latch onto.

The toll had taken its final debt. In return for Q’s fortune, I’d been taxed too high. I’d been turned into a destitute widow.

 He’s dead.

“Tess, it’s—” Franco gathered me in his arms, tugging me into his muscular bulk. I wanted to attack him. I couldn’t control the rapidly heating, freezing, churning, storm gathering inside.

I was sad. Then angry. Then weak. Then furious.

Shoving Franco away, I snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

The streetlights clicked off, giving way to the watery pink light of a new day. A new day without Q. A lifetime without Q.

Franco pulled something from his pocket. He smoothed the paper, holding it out. “He made me promise to give you this if…”

My body stiffened.

“If what? He thought he’d die? He planned for his death?”

Why did he make you sign the will?Everything—it’s all yours. He’d bequeathed everything to me. And he’d done it so fast…almost as if he operated against time.

I stole the letter. Tearing it open, I swallowed bubbles of rageful tears.

Tess,

If you’re reading this, then I guess…well, I don’t need to put it into words. You know what’s happened. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t leave you willingly. I know I have no right to ask this of you—but you can’t undo my hard work. Promise me you’ll keep living, esclave. Promise me you’ll stay alive. Franco knows what to do. Frederick will walk you through the future plans when you’re ready.

There really isn’t much else to say. I love you so fucking much. Never forget that. Never forget the connection we shared, or the knowledge I’m waiting for you. Somewhere.

Je suis à toi—

I scrunched the letter up, throwing it on the floor in a fit of temper. There was more. More promises. More requests. More declarations of undying devotions.

But I couldn’t read anymore. Lies. All of it.

Q had left me. He had no rights to me anymore. He had no right to make me promise not to enter my tower. He had no fucking right to ask me to continue living without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t.

It’s not over.

My eyes narrowed, staring dry and tearless at the passing view. Q was dead. I’d paid my unpayable debt and now I wanted interest. I wanted what they’d stolen from me. I wanted a life for a life.

My anger filled the car interior with swirling silver rage. “I want to make them pay. I want to give them everything they deserve.”

I’m going to show them how it feels to die slowly. How it feels to be soulless.

Franco took a while to reply, picking up Q’s letter and placing it on the seat beside us. The presence of Q’s penmanship and final thoughts took up space—filling the vehicle with his merciless love. He’d taken everything from me. My heart. My mind. My soul.

I would never forgive him for that.

“We’ll make them pay,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

My mind stained red. All the fight inside to remain good and pure disappeared. I threw myself headfirst into blackness. I accepted my life had changed forever. I had no intention of staying alive without him.

I would follow Q. It was the only option. Die or live an eternity locked in a tower unfeeling. I couldn’t survive this unsurmountable grief. I couldn’t let it consume me because if I did I would be washed away forever.

I had work to do before I died.

I had vengeance to deliver.

Violence. Blood. Screams. I wanted it all. I would make Q proud. I would avenge him.

You stole him from me.

You stole any chance of a happy life.

I was beyond angry. I was catatonic with rage. Tears had no place in the black void I existed in. Only greed—greed for killing. I would steal more than their lives in return.

I would steal their murderous souls.

* * *

Our convoy of killers gathered ranks outside the high hedges ringing the hellhole where my maître had died.

It didn’t matter the sun sparkled, turning the world into a better place. All I saw was darkness. All I lived was darkness. All I wanted was death.

He’s gone. But I’m going to join him.

Franco shattered my single-mindedness, dragging me back to an existence I no longer wanted to live.

Grabbing my hand, he forcibly curled my fingers around a gun. Squeezing me hard, his face shone with ruthlessness and pain. His injuries drained him, but he survived on bloodlust—same as me.

“Promise me, whatever happens in there. You come out alive. Don’t be reckless. He wouldn’t want that.”

I promise to be reckless. I promise to ignore everything Q wants because he left me.

Q was gone. There would be no wedding. There would be no happiness.

Why would I agree to survive in a Q-less world?

I was done fighting. I was ready to join my master in a place that wouldn’t tear us apart. I was done living in fear and terror—expecting the worst. I was done living.

But first—I would paint the sprawling villa in blood.

“I promise.” The obvious lie hung like a filthy cloud. Franco scowled.

I hefted the weight of the weapon, counting the victims I wished I’d killed. Q had stolen that right, too. He’d killed on my behalf. Now it was my turn.

Leather Jacket.

White Man.

Jagged Scar.

All of them dead at his hand. Lynx was mine. Lynx was dead already and I rejoiced knowing I’d taken his soul. I no longer had any aversion to killing. This was right. They deserved to die. And I would gladly buy a ticket to hell in order to grant closure to my pain.

He’s gone.

But soon, I would join him.

Franco sighed. “Let Blair and his team go in first. I’ve assigned Vincent to go in with you, seeing as I’ll be hobbling.” Pinching my chin, forcing my vacant eyes to meet his, he added, “I’ll protect your life with my own—just like I did him. But you have to stay alive in order for me to do that. He wouldn’t want you to—”

My stomach churned. “Don’t tell me what he wanted, Franco. He’s lost that right because he’s dead.”

Franco blanched. “Tess—you can’t let this—”

“Can’t let it what? Kill me? Ruin me? You expect me to roll into a ball and cry my heart out? I’m past being told what I can and can’t do. Stay out of my way, Franco. Let me find peace my way. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.” Clutching my gun, I snapped, “Leave me the hell alone!”

His face darkened but understanding crossed his features. “I know the rage you’re feeling. I know it’s swallowing you whole. But, Tess—don’t run in the opposite direction of who you are.”

I growled low and long. “Shut up. Just shut up!”

You know Q wouldn’t want this.

I shut myself up. I didn’t want any thoughts or doubts. I wanted to stay in the clean clarity of vengeance.

Franco patted my shoulder. “I get it. I do. And I won’t say anymore. But if you do this, you will never run from fear again.”

I stroked my gun, counting the seconds till I could fire it. “If I do this, I become fear.” I locked eyes with him. “I’ll no longer be afraid. They’ll be afraid of me.” I’d never be a victim again because I would no longer have anything precious to tear from me. I was empty. I would stay empty until I died.

In a way that gave me power. Unlimited power I intended to wield on them. They’d turned me into a monster. They’d turned me into Q.

“I agree.” Placing a hand on mine, he murmured, “Just don’t forget you’re human, too.”

I ignored the hidden messages. I didn’t pay attention to the hint that I shouldn’t throw myself completely into my murderous rage. I didn’t care if I lost myself. There was no one waiting for me to return this time.

A man in black military wear broke away from the milling shadows of Q’s entourage. Coming toward us, he moved with stealthy confidence. His hands were free but two guns rested on his hips; multiple knives hung across his chest in a scabbard. Pulling the black beanie further over his blond hair, he said, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Another man, taller with a rifle slung over his shoulder, appeared with a stick. Passing it to Franco, he grinned wryly. “Never provided a walking cane to go into a rampage but I think you need some help getting about.”

I wanted to throw up. Jokes! They were making jokes?

How can they? Tears sprang up my spine, clawing their way painfully through my coldheartedness. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want caustic healing in the form of tears. Empty. Stay empty.

Franco bared his teeth. “Get that piece of shit away from me. I’m doped up to my eyeballs with painkillers. I can run while I don’t feel it.”

The man tossed the stick to the verge. “Your funeral.”

The image of Franco dead cleaved my wounded heart. No, I wouldn’t let anyone else die. I was done losing people I cared for.

“You’re not coming,” I whispered. A whisper was the only decibel I dared converse at. Everything inside boiled like a pressure cooker, building and building, steaming and steaming until my anger frothed and overflowed.  The next time I spoke loudly, I would explode.

And I would murder the man who’d killed Q. I would be cataclysmic.

Franco shook his head. “I’m coming. The moment we find Mercer, I’ll crash, but until we have him, I’m not stopping.” Pointing at the two men, he ordered, “Blair, you’re to go in first with five men. Do the preliminary sweep, clear any threats. Peter, you’re in charge of Beta squad, head in two minutes after Alpha. Round up any slaves, staff, non-immediate threats to be sorted later.” His eyes fell on me. “I’ll bring up the rear with Vincent and Tess.”

“Roger.” The two men, one black-haired, and one blond, nudged knuckles before fading back to their teams to relay the orders.

He’s trying to protect me.

Too bad. I wanted to be on the frontline. I wanted risk and danger. I wanted something to hurl this rage onto.

My heart fizzled with anger. “I’m not going in last.”

Franco frowned. “You are. You’ll still have your revenge, Tess. But this is the safest way. You’re the owner of everything Q built. Don’t ruin his legacy by killing yourself.”

The way he ruined me by dying?

I gritted my teeth, cuddling my gun as if it was my only lifeline. “You can’t stop the inevitable,” I mumbled so only the wind heard me.

Franco froze. “What did you just say?”

The inevitable will happen—I’m going to find him—where he’s waiting for me.

“Nothing.”

The first team, all dressed in identical black gear, armed with every arsenal available, darted out behind the hedges, heading toward the large driveway.

No! Wait.

I wouldn’t hang back like a helpless woman. I deserved to mow down the killers of my lover. It was my right.

Out of everything Q had done to smash my tower—it was his death that finally released me from the rubble. The bricks, always teasing with erecting, had magically disappeared. My mind was a wasteland—completely grey and barren. I was exposed to every emotion and I only felt one.

“Esclave, don’t do this. Remember everything I did.”

Q’s beautiful face consumed me—his strength, his smile.

But then he morphed and changed.

His vibrant eyes covered with a filmy white.

His tattoo hung off him in tatters.

Oxygen turned to reeking dust. My hollow heart rapidly filled with grief. It oozed through me, stealing my anger every second I stood doing nothing.

Not yet.

I refused to break down.

Not yet.

The last man disappeared; I couldn’t stand still any longer. I took a step toward the driveway.

Franco imprisoned my elbow. “No. You’re going in with me. Three, four minutes, Tess. Patience.”

Three or four minutes. That was an eternity. Time had stolen Q from me. Only minutes from our arrival, and the heartless bitch decided it was too many minutes too long. In another few minutes I might be useless with sorrow.

I obeyed time no longer.

My legs itched. My lungs gulped air. I prepared for battle.

Run.

Run. Run!

I took off.

“Tess, no!” Franco tried to grab me, but his broken body was no match for my quick paced rage.

I careened around the hedge, flying toward the open door. The soft puffs of silenced guns broke the hushed virginity of the morning.

 The massive granite pillars glittered in the sunlight. Pansies and merry flowers bordered the doorstep, looking innocent, harbouring evil inside. The disguise was good. But I knew the truth.

They would die. All of them.

My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t stutter. I leapt over the threshold, trading sun for shadows.

“Tess!” Franco yelled.

I didn’t stop. This was the beginning of my anarchy.

The décor was all red and black and morbid. Q’s team crawled through rooms, dispatching traitors with a scope and trigger. Their black attire made them look like spiders, casting a web of retaliation, taking over their prey.

“Clear!” someone yelled, followed by a gunshot to the right. I didn’t know where to look. Men’s shouts sounded—then cut short. Running footsteps stomped—then thudded to a halt.

All around me men died—dispatched with precise coordination.

They stole my right! They took away my destiny—ending the men’s existence before I could.

The crackle of someone’s walkie-talkie slammed me into motion. They may have killed a household of bastards, but they hadn’t found Q. No alarm sounded—no raised voices.

Q was still missing—and I knew his killer would be with him.

Raising the gun, I hunted.

Time lost meaning as I sank deep inside myself—tapping into instincts and heightened senses I never knew I possessed. I embraced the animalistic part—switching off humanity, thirsting for blood.

I prowled room after room.

Stripper poles and couches in one. Cinema and media in another. Kitchen. Bathroom. Office.

Bodies. I stepped over countless corpses from the efficiency of Q’s team. Clean shots to either forehead or heart. Their vacant open eyes didn’t raise my heartbeat or garner any emotion but hatred; deep seated hatred kindling in my chest where my heart used to be.

“Tess, you’re not listening to me. Stop this—before it’s too late. I can’t save you again.” Q’s voice threaded with my conscience.

You can’t save me because you’re dead.

Shaking my head, ridding the craziness brewing inside, I entered a bedroom. And slammed to a halt.

Dark, dingy, not a dungeon, but not far off. Bunk beds lined each of the four walls. The lack of windows, and dampness from the floor, settled fast into my bones.

I sat on a threadbare mattress, looking around my new home. Girls huddled on each bed. All of them wore an aura of tragedy, eyes bruised with loss, skin painted with injuries and shadows.

A man loomed over me, his beard black and gross. Reaching behind him, he bared a knife.

The flashback of Mexico interlinked with the image in front of me. Bars across the windows, mattresses on the floor, women bound and gagged.

Two members of Franco’s team helped the six girls from a variety of horrible positions. Some were collared to the wall, others were tied to poles, slouching painfully.

Their naked bodies showed numerous evidence of abuse. Tortured. Raped.

Not anymore.

Now they were free.

My eyes stung. Q had saved yet more women—more birds—and he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of returning them to loved ones.

It’s your vocation now—embrace his love of birds and focus on nurturing rather than death.

My fist trembled around the gun. I couldn’t.

Bastards.

Devils.

I had to finish this. Whirling from the room, I ran. I needed to be far away—it threatened to unravel my hatred, dissolving me with tears.

I circled back to the front of the house, searching for a victim—any victim to transfer this rage onto.

My eyes fell on a staircase going down.

He’s close. My instincts sounded an alarm, purring with knowledge. Down there. Go.

I took a step, only to be wrenched to a stop. “Bloody hell, Tess. What were you thinking?” Franco swayed, breathing hard. “I’ve been limping all over the fucking house. It’s not safe. There could be anyone hiding, waiting to kill you.”

I don’t care.

“Let me go, Franco.” I pointed down the stairs. “He’s down there. I know it.”

Franco’s face whitened. “Let Alpha team go down. You don’t want to see if you’re right.”

“You’re wrong. I do want to see. I want to know what they did, so I can do the same.”

I need to see he’s really dead. I need to see the truth.

Franco shook his head. “Tess—this isn’t you. Stop it.”

I tore my arm from his grip. “You don’t know me! Stop pretending like you care. Your boss is dead, and I don’t want you to interfere. Go away.” I hated my cruelness, but nothing would stop me from finding Q.

Franco stood locked to the landing.

Not looking back, I darted down the stairs. I held the gun high, my finger teasing the trigger.

My first kill happened too fast to remember.

A shadow. A blur. A shout. A curse.

Bang.

I no longer teased the trigger but compressed it, letting loose a killing projectile.

The man dressed in a black suit crumbled to the floor, holding a gushing wound in his neck. “Fucking, bit—bitch.” His eyes narrowed to slits even as his arteries dumped litres of blood down his lapels.

I waited for a rush of sickness. I waited to feel different for doing something so barbaric, but I felt nothing.

Standing over him, I hissed, “Where is he? Tell me where he is.”

The man gurgled, holding the wound tightly. “Wh—who are you?”

Ice lived in my blood as I crouched over him. “I’m your worst nightmare.” Placing the gun against his crotch, I whispered, “I think you used this on trafficked women. I think you deserve more pain before you die.”

He let his neck go, drenching his body in blood. “No! Wait!” He pushed feebly at the gun. “Don’t!”

A silenced puff and his head snapped back, falling into death.

What?

A strong hand plucked me from the floor. I swivelled in their hold, glowering at my captor.  Franco held a silenced pistol awkwardly in his bandaged hand.

“How dare you. He was mine to kill!”

“And you did. He was seconds away from death.”

“Why didn’t you let me finish it?”

“Because you’ve taken his life. You might be able to live with that—but torturing, that fucks you up, Tess. And I won’t let you do that to yourself.”

“I’m not weak. Stop treating me like I am.”

Franco glared into my eyes. “You’re not weak. I agree. You’re strong—strong enough for Q and everything he gave you—but I made a promise to him. He made me swear I wouldn’t let you slip away, hurt yourself, or do anything to jeopardise your commitment to him and his company.”

“You don’t own me. You can’t do that.”

Don’t stop me from doing what I need!.

He shook his head. “I don’t own you but Q does. He may be gone, Tess, but you’re still his. You still have to obey—same as me.” Sighing he said softly, “I’ll let you kill Lynx, but I’ll do the rest. My soul can handle it—yours can’t.”

It can. Because this time my victims aren’t innocent.

Yanking me behind him, granting a protective wall of his body, he advanced down the black-tiled corridor. “Believe me. When the shock hits—when you finally let yourself feel, you’ll thank me.” Motioning with his gun, he muttered, “No more talking. Let’s go.”

I shoved him. “Let me go first. Don’t steal this from me, Franco. I need to do this.”

I need to avenge him.

“Shut up. I won’t let you go first, so stop.” His body was unmovable, blocking me from danger.

Gritting my teeth, I had no choice but to obey. His pace was agonisingly slow. A shuffle, a limp, but he did things I wouldn’t have done—scanned each doorway, tried every doorknob, making sure it was locked and no one would ambush us. “You’ll have your wish. I won’t take that from you. Just let me protect you while you do it.”

I wanted action. I wanted carnage. But it was silent.

Ominously silent.

What did you hope—you’d hear him? That he would be alive, and you’d hear his voice?

My eyes swelled with tears—finally recognising my stupid hopes.

Yes.

I’d been hunting in denial. Beneath my rage and grief blazed a fine layer of hope. It cindered the rest of my emotions. The hollowness inside had been filled with some other feeling. I didn’t have a name—disbelief perhaps. My soul taunted me with a lie that he was dead.

I feel him.

Some ludicrous part believed he was still alive. The connection we shared hadn’t been severed completely—it was there—weak, hazy, pulsing with darkness. But there.

And it ruined me further because hope was the cruellest emotion imaginable.

He’s dead. I couldn’t argue with that. No matter how much I wanted to.

Footsteps behind us.

I wheeled around, double fisting my gun.

The blond man in his beanie held up his hands. “We’re on your side, Mrs. Mercer.”

The title I wanted more than anything sent a bullet into my heart. I would never be Mrs. Mercer legally, but I would be in spirit. I was Q’s. Regardless of life or death.

Not saying a word, I spun around, following Franco.

The dark richness of the corridor ended up ahead. Lighting gave just enough visibility so as not to fumble, but it was hard to make out the last door. Heavy wood with bars on top. A dungeon door.

Franco looked over his shoulder, his forehead beaded with pain-induced sweat. “Voices up ahead.” He did some fancy finger moves to the team behind me.

I moved forward, sandwiched between the men. I hated that they’d formed ranks around me, protecting me when I didn’t want to be protected. I don’t want to be protected. Unless it was by Q.

Then I ceased all motor-control.

A noise.

A masculine groan, laced with agony.

Hope.

Glorious, sunbursting hope.

Q. I knew it. He’s alive. Not dead. Never dead.

Shoving Franco aside, I shot ahead. Franco cursed in pain as his missing thumb slammed against the wall in my haste. “Tess!” he bellowed. But I was already gone, racing toward the final door.

Be alive. Please be alive.

I had no knowledge of my safety as I collided with the wood, exploding into hell.

Chains. Water. Blackness.

My eyes took everything in at once—a panoramic shot of horror. Two men stood in front of a male carcass hanging from the ceiling. Naked, bleeding, cuts upon cuts. Empty buckets littered the floor while a full one rested on a small table.

The man I focused on wore a dark red suit, his hair styled into a black and red mohawk, brandishing a bloody knife in my direction.

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get down here?” His Spanish accent echoed in the tomb.

Him. Lynx. My nemesis. My target.

Then my eyes landed on the massacre behind him.

All the hope I’d nursed sputtered out. All my love and prayers siphoned away.

Sparrows. Clouds. Barbwire.

My heart died.

No! Q was gone. I couldn’t deny it anymore. No one could survive and have so much blood paint their body. No one could hang completely limp and lifeless if they weren’t dead.

Someone cut him down!

Franco careened into the room. His large arm wrapped around my waist, jerking me backward. Shoving me away, he raised his weapon and shot the second man wearing drenched black clothing.

The man’s neck flung back before his body fell like its puppeteer cut his strings, collapsing to the floor. The muted pop sounded so innocent compared to the sudden firework of gristle and blood decorating the wall behind the man.

Lynx reached into his waistband, pulling out an old fashioned pistol. “Don’t fucking move!”

The hairs on my arms stood up, feeding off the anger in the room—the fine edge of living and death.

I didn’t care which happened—live or die—as long as I killed Lynx first.

Blair catapulted into the room. Men crowded behind us, filling the corridor, providing back-up but also ensuring we had no way out.

Not that I needed a way out.

Q.

Franco grabbed me. I squirmed against his hold losing my ceaseless rage, filling with hot horror. Q just hung there, arms tied to his sides, black ropes binding his ankles to the ceiling.

Please, move! Let me know you haven’t left me.

My eyes hurt, searching for breath, a quiver of a feather on his chest.

Nothing.

I swallowed back a rush of sickness. He hung upside down, butchered. His legs and stomach rivered with copious amounts of blood. His tattoo barely visible beneath the deep rust. A black towel covered his face, dripping with loud droplets onto the floor below.