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Something drops in my chest when I realize I don’t have a firearm on me.
I’m unarmed, and there are seven of them, and at least one has a gun.
Fuck.
This is bad.
“I see you,” Finn says, glee dancing in his psychopath’s voice. “Now are you going to be a good little girl and come out and say howdy? Or am I going to see how loud this bitch can scream with a gag in her mouth?”
He casually points the gun at Jackie, keeping his eyes fixated on us.
“How about I count to ten? Oh, and keep the dog inside. I don’t want to hurt it.
“Ten …
“Nine …
“Eight …”
Millie flinches, and then darts for the door—the back door, away from where Lava is pawing and barking.
I follow her without thinking, my only concern now protecting my woman and the baby I’m sure is already growing inside of her.
But this is bad.
This is really fucking bad.Chapter Twenty-TwoMillieThe world pricks coldly at my bare skin and freezes the soles of my feet as I run across the icy lawn, the ice crunching between my toes.
It’s only when I get to the end of the lawn that I realize I’m still only wearing my bathrobe, goosebumps spreading over my legs and my arms, combining with the dread and the heartache lancing through me to make me shiver.
Behind me, Markus approaches, striding briskly until he’s standing next to me … and then subtly in front of me, moving so that his body creates a natural shield in front of me. Further back, Lava’s barks become high pitched and frantic, his clawing and scraping so desperate it breaks my heart.
Finn grins from ear to ear, his red hair damp and greasy looking. His eyes move disgustingly over me, from my toes to my face and then back again.
I meet Jackies eyes, silently willing her to see how sorry I am, silently begging for her forgiveness.
She’s wearing her stiff black blazer and her pencil skirt and tights, her normal work attire, but her hair has come loose from her ponytail and falls down in jagged waves.
Finn tosses his gun from hand to hand, eyeing Markus.
“You don’t look like a good little girl,” he says.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snap, somehow keeping my voice steady despite everything.
“I said be a good little girl and come out here, so what is this streak of piss doing, eh? What, tough guy? You got something to say?”
“You’re dirt,” Markus says calmly.
“I think you’re forgetting which one of us has the gun.”
“No, I can see that you have it,” he says, voice tinged with ice. “But you’re still dirt.”
“Maybe I should teach you some manners. Maybe I’ll take these bitches in front of you, make you watch. Then we’ll see how tough you are.”
“That will never happen,” Markus states flatly.
Finn laughs in a deranged way, turning to glance around at his men for a moment. A few of them have tattoos on their necks and faces, and all of them look like they’d follow Finn’s instructions with enthusiasm. A chill moves through me and I can’t look at them for long, because many of them leer at me as though they’re just waiting for him to give the order.
“Pretty confident for a man who’s fucked ten ways to Sunday, ain’t you?” Finn laughs.
“You’re a freak,” I snap, my voice trembling with years long pain. “You’re a freaking weirdo, Finn. What the hell’s the matter with you? Leaving notes at the orphanage, that’s one thing. Vandalism … but this, this is sick beyond anything you’ve ever done before.”
Finn throws his head back and laughs loudly, disturbing the regular peace of this place so much that several birds desert the trees behind him and flap into the air. Lava’s barking punches more urgently at the noise of his cackling, several of his men grunting out laughs along with him.
“If you think this is anywhere close to the worst thing I’ve ever done, you’re sorely fucking mistaken. But don’t worry, Millie. I know what you’ve done.”
“Stop saying that,” I hiss, balling my hands into fists. “Those stupid notes. What could I ever have done to you?”
“You rejected me,” he says, darkness creeping into his gaze.
Markus shifts to the side so that I have to look around his bulky protective body to see the dead seriousness of Finn’s expression.
“I … what?” I gasp.
“It was fate, don’t you see?” Finn says. “I really tried to get on the straight and narrow. I was doing well. I was off the drugs—stupid mistake, in hindsight, because drugs make me so much more fun. But for a while there, yeah, I was on the wagon. I was doing my talks. Do you remember?”
I just stare, wishing I had a gun, a hammer, anything so that I could do harm to this twisted man.
