Page 87 of Heist in Paradise

Madoc’s brow dipped, and there was a flash like understanding on his face. But he didn’t lower the gun.

“She needs time,” I said, hoping it was true. “Time to recover and heal. Her mind is all messed up.” I shot her a quick look, wincing. I still felt her phantom gun pressed to my temple. “She’s a victim here, too.”

“Some people can’t be redeemed.”

“Can you?”

His eyes flickered to me. I gazed back at him evenly. “How many people have you killed?”

“Twelve,” he said, not even needing to think about it. At my incredulous look, he snarled: “I never said I wanted redemption.”

“Molly deserves a chance, even if you don’t.” I lifted my chin, ignoring the tremor in it. “I won’t let you kill her. You’ll be my one before she becomes your thirteen.”

Madoc considered that for a moment before he lowered the gun with a scoff. “Pathetic.” Apparently, that was his limit because he wrenched himself away from me and moved up the shore. His gait was awkward, hindered by his injury. I watched him go, my energy flagging. I wanted to bury myself in the sand like a sullen crab.

And then a deep voice crackled in my ear.

“…princess?”

JAX

There was a hole in my chest. It was deep and jagged-edged, carved out by Nate’s betrayal and expanding every minute of silence that followed. I felt like I was shouting into a void. There was nothing. No hope. No fucking light at the end of all this.

“Princess?” My voice had reached new levels of pathetic.

Beside me, Ryle sniffled. He hadn’t spoken since we left Nate behind. I waited for it—waited for the guilt, the regret, the cussing me out—but it seemed our resident optimist had lost his spark. Him and me both.

I wanted to sleep. More than anything, I wanted to get so blindingly, ridiculously drunk that I couldn’t tell my ass up from my boots.

“Alpha?”

Olivia’s voice floated into my ear. I stopped in my tracks, relief chasing away the exhaustion.

My girl was alive.

“Thank fuck. Are you alright?”

“Yeah?” But it sounded like a question. I frowned at the dark trees ahead, as if I could see her face if I squinted hard enough. “I see Ca—Ginger coming down now. Um, I found Molly.”

Ryle staggered in shock beside me. I echoed the sentiment. “Is she…?”

“She’s…alive.” Again, it sounded uncertain. I didn’t like the hesitation in her voice. Something had happened.

“Madoc is hurt.”

My blood turned to ice.

I took off at a sprint, no longer caring about being quiet. When I burst out from the treeline, slipping recklessly across the dunes, I found the bodies. Piled next to each other like a mass grave. I recognized Madoc’s handiwork, the cleanness of his kills, the almost ritualistic placement of them.

My eyes scanned the beach, finding too much movement—Callum and the girls, a lone figure on the dock, another one near the shoreline. I found Madoc a bit further along, separated from the rest. I chewed up the distance between us, ignoring the pain in my ankle, the dull throb in my chest.

Remembering myself too late, I pumped the brakes, kicking sand up at him. He gave me an unimpressed look as he dusted himself off. His left arm was tucked tight and awkward against his side.

“What happened?”

He stared at me. It wasn’t his usual needling stare—it was deeper, like he was searching in every crevice, looking for something that he needed. I would give it to him. Tell me, and it’s yours.

When the distance between us still felt unbearable, I reached for him. “Can I just…?”