Lauren laughs as she stands up and collects the bat. “Looks sore,” she says, nodding toward the heel stuck in my leg.
As I look over my shoulder at my calf, a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. There’s blood everywhere, smeared across the hallway floor like a scene from a horror flick. I roll over, careful with my injury, and yank the heel out.
Fuck, that hurt.I try to breathe through the sharp pain, but it’s so severe that I struggle to focus.
Antonio has gained the upper hand.
He is straddling Darian now and laying into him with his fists.
Lauren swings the bat with a manic look, striking me in the shoulder. A loud crunch fills my ears as I collapse to the floor, writhing in pain.
“That’s enough,” Lauren says to Antonio before she delivers another hard blow to the back of my thigh. “We need him alive?—”
A silenced pop rings out, and Lauren topples to the floor, staring up at the roof with a bullet hole between her manicuredbrows. Surprised, I look up to see Sinclair haul Antonio off my husband and knee him hard in the face before he aims the gun at his head and shoots him dead with a cold look that sends shivers rushing down my spine.
Frozen to the spot, I’m hauled to my feet by Elijah, who picks me up in his strong arms and carries me out past Darian. My eyes widen when I see his barely recognizable face, and I beat Elijah’s broad chest, ordering him to put me down, which he does reluctantly.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in my leg and my dislocated, possibly broken shoulder, I collapse between Darian’s spread legs and cup his bruised face. Both eyes are almost swollen shut and blood pours from a deep gash on his forehead.
“Darian…” My voice trembles as I swipe my thumbs through the slick crimson on his cheeks. “Please, look at me.”
Sinclair puts his hand on my shoulder, causing me to stiffen. “We need to leave.”
I jerk free. “I’m not leaving him here.”
“Of course, we’re not fucking leaving him here.” With a nod toward Elijah, I’m once again picked up like I weigh nothing more than a feather. I don’t know why I fight. Sinclair is my husband’s friend and possibly his only ally, but my instincts override my common sense. I squirm in Elijah’s arm, beating his chest while demanding that he take me back to Darian, and he grumbles something under his breath about how I’m paying for the dry cleaning.
Muted orange streetlights fill the car in waves as we drive down the highway on our way to get medical help. Darian is passed out in the back, but at least he’s breathing. I keep looking over my sore shoulder to check.
Elijah demanded to find his own way home after dumping me unceremoniously in the front seat with no care in the world that I nearly passed out in pain, and now he’s no doubt terrifying some unsuspecting woman in his blood-soaked clothes. The guy has a creepy serial killer vibe about him.
I’m leaning with my head against the window, wincing in pain every time there’s a slightly uneven surface on the road. My injured shoulder feels like it’s been doused in gasoline and set on fire. Not to mention my throbbing leg and the bleeding injury in my calf.
Tilting my head, I study Sinclair.
Shadows cling to him tonight as he rests his elbow on the window, staring unseeingly at the dark road ahead, his other hand hanging over the steering wheel. He notices me watching and frowns, then rubs his fingers over his full lips as if deepin thought. With a sigh, he drops his hand. “I guess you have questions.”
“You can say that again.” I try to keep my voice light but can’t stop it from shaking. “I don’t know who I am anymore. Those people back there…” I drift off, my heart clenching painfully. “I thought they were my friends.”
“You can’t trust anyone in this world,” he replies darkly.
“Not even you?”
“Especially not me.”
I stare at his side profile as the seconds tick past. “Where do your alliances lie, Sinclair? The only time I’ve seen you truly care about anything or anyone is when your family is involved. Maybe I’m going out on a hunch here, but I think Darian is part of your family, blood-related or not.”
His eyes slide in my direction as a corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re right,” he replies, checking the rearview mirror. “Darian is like a younger brother to me. After he lost his family, mine took him under their wing, and I’ve been there to look out for him ever since.” Curling his fingers around the steering wheel, as though he needs to anchor his emotions, his smile slips. “He used to be a happy kid before that night, but…uhm…”
He wets his lips, brows creased in concentration. “He was never the same again. My father took him to see a psychologist, but there wasn’t much they could do for him. Darian retreated into himself. Don’t get me wrong; he was by no means weak, but the night he lost his parents changed him. As he grew older, he swore to seek revenge, to kill your father himself, but politics aren’t that straightforward in our world. Van der Meer held a lot of power. My father warned your husband against doing anything stupid until the time was right. Not to make the wrong enemies. In the meantime, Darian worked hard to climb the ranks over the years.” Sinclair blows out his cheeks, his chest deflating on a deep sigh. “He was finally ready to kill your fatherthat Reckoning night, but the Bishop got to Mr. van der Meer first.”
Eyes wide, I lift my trembling hand to my mouth.
“I didn’t think much of it. Mr. van der Meer was dead. His wife had gone on the run and took you with her. But Darian kept discussing revenge like your father was still alive.”
“What happened then?” I ask.
“Not much,” he answers, but I don’t miss the tick in his jaw. “Darian threw himself headfirst into the Exodus. By now, he was a respected and feared Elder, like his father, but it was all…” Sinclair seems to search for the correct word. “Robotic. His heart wasn’t in it. While the other Elders live and breathe the Exodus, Darian merely tolerates it.” He looks at me then, his blue eyes roaming over my face as another wave of orange streetlight fills the car. “I have no doubt he’d leave the Exodus in a heartbeat if the right incentive presented itself.”
