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Having reached the door, Sirenna presses herself into me. “I’m not leaving here without you, Zayne,” she pleads. “I’d rather die.”
The sorrow and longing in her voice tear through my gut. It takes all of my self-control not to squeeze my eyes shut against the pain, but I can’t lose my target from sight for a single moment.
“If you want to save me, you have to save yourself,” I tell her softly, wishing I could stroke her smooth cheek with my voice. Wishing I could touch her one last time.
Gordon starts towards the flat iron in the corner, sitting between the washing machine and the wall. He signals one of his men, who hurries over with what appears to be a power bank for house appliances. The bastard came ready. He had this in mind from the very start.
“I suppose I can tell you,” he says, “considering you’ll be dead soon, and your lover back by her husband’s side.” He throws Joseph a glance.
I can feel Sirenna’s anger rising. He shouldn’t have fucking said that. If I’ve learned anything about my wild flame, it’s that she’ll take her dignity over her life anytime, and I need her to stay alive, or my death will be for nothing.
“Marius Loveless doesn’t like you,” he continues while tapping the flat iron to check how much it has heated up. “But he doesn’t hate you either, and the other members of The Order, well, they see great value in you. Marius finds the existence of that weirdo friend of yours, Priest Ward, much harder to digest. He considers him an abomination, but he can tolerate you. His wife, on the other hand, is deeply grieved. The Order keeps secret weapons to use on all their operatives if push comes to shove, and I’m one of those weapons. I was honored that she considered me the most suited to take you down, and that she finally gave me the chance to take revenge.”
“The moment we’re out of here, I’m gonna have a word with that bitch,” Sirenna mutters angrily, and Gordon bursts into laughter. Joseph, on the other hand, seems to know better than that. He looks at his wife with the reserve of an experienced zoo warden around a troublesome wild snake.
“I suggest you get out of here while you can, Mrs. Carter,” Gordon tells her, now drawing closer, a clutch of his men moving along to cover his back. “Unless you prefer to stick around and watch the skin come off your lover’s beautiful, beautiful face.”
“Go, Sirenna,” I urge her, the gun steady in my hand and fixed on Gordon, but she doesn’t give an inch.
“No.” She pushes her chest into my back, her hands wrapping around me. “If we die, we die together. You asked me to marry you, and I said yes, remember? So, ‘till death do us part.”
“Get on your knees,” Gordon commands, his face darkening with vile intent.
I know I have to do it, but I can’t, not with Sirenna still here.
My eyes run over the gunmen, the suspicious Joseph, and Gordon’s sadistic face as he approaches with the iron. All I have is a gun in my hand, and the certainty of death if I fire it.
“Sirenna,” I plead.
I steel myself to snarl at her, scare her into abandoning this doomsday loyalty she feels toward me, but just as I inhale to do it, the air around us swooshes, creating a void that sucks at our eardrums. The sensation is sickening, and when a sharp, wheezing sound shoots through the space, I can barely even hold on to the gun anymore. I gather Sirenna in my arms and curl down over her, protecting her from the ominous noise.
Chaos ensues, but my brain is quick to do the calculations. It must be some sort of pitch developed for the military, causing the windows to crack. It abuses our eardrums without making them bleed, and it scrambles our brains without doing any real damage–it could destroy them if it continued for minutes on end, though. But it only lasts long enough to make the men drop their guns and double over, slapping their gloved hands over their ears. Through the lingering, piercing sound, I can hear Gordon snarl, dropping the iron on his foot. Now certain of Sirenna’s safety, at least for a few precious seconds, I flash over, grab the thing off the floor and Gordon by his collar.
I make sure he gets a good look at my murderous face before I hold him still and press the flat iron onto his face, the skin searing under it.
“This is for threatening Sirenna,” I snarl over the shrill whistling.
Standing up through the abusing sound is painful as fuck, but the pleasure of giving this asshole what he deserves is worth it. I ram the iron into his throat, making him choke on his own throat bones before ripping it away along with a slice of his skin, and pressing it to the other side of his face. He screams and flails, but he’s not strong enough to get the monster he created off of him.
I only drop him on the floor when he’s lost his consciousness, leaving him a heap of fuming flesh with barely recognizable features, before I turn to Joseph.
The sound has started to die down, and Joseph managed to stand up and watch the last of what happened to Gordon. He steps back, lowering his hands from his ears. The other men will be back to their senses in a matter of seconds too, so all I get to do is point at him, marking my threat as I move backwards toward Sirenna.
“I’m coming for you,” I growl. But just as my attention turns towards her to help her up, she sees something that sends her eyes snapping wide.
I turn my face to watch Joseph grab one of the men’s discarded guns and point it at us, only to be met by Sirenna stepping in front of me with the weapon I discarded when I picked up the iron.
“If you move, Joseph, I swear to God, I’m gonna put a bullet through your brain.”
That gives Joseph pause, his gun shivering in his hands.
“Move back. Back!” Sirenna tells me, following me out of the room with the weapon still pointed at him.
The future Mrs. Thorngren is a powerhouse of a woman, and any man with healthy survival instincts would know not to challenge her. She is marvelous to behold. I grin at Joseph one last time, both the murderous monster and the man his wife left him for, before Sirenna grabs my hand, and we hurry together down the hallway towards the stairs.
“How long until the gunmen are completely back to their senses?” she throws over her shoulder breathlessly, her hand still firmly gripping mine.
“Two minutes, max,” I reply, the calculations running in my head.
