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I don’t take my eyes off of her, even as Christie’s widened gaze finds Arlo over my shoulder.
“You can leave,” Arlo continues. “I know that you’re not one of Declan’s dogs, and I’m not afraid of retribution from you. But if you don’tleavenow, then youaregoing to end up dead in the street in the rain.”
Christie considers his words, and I watch her run the options through her head until finally, she steps back. Even in the dimness, I see the trickle of red running from her neck, a remnant of whatI’vedone to her when she got too close.
“All right,” she says, hands going up in surrender as she shows Arlo that they’re empty. “All right. I’ll go.”
“And you’rewelcomefor that choice,” Arlo tells her as she turns on one foot and starts to walk in the other direction in the street.
But suddenly, she tenses. Her arm goes to the gun at her waist, and my stomach drops as she pivots, the gun up and points atme.
So much for wanting tosave me, I guess.
My heart stops in my chest. My mouth falls open as the world seems to slow around me.
If she shoots me, I don’t think I’ll survive.
A gun goes off, but when Christie staggers backward, it occurs to me that it was not hers.
It was Arlo’s.
He snorts and walks up to stand beside me, throwing an arm over my shoulders as Christie’s knees buckle, and she falls to the pavement.
She’s dead before she hits the ground, and I can’t find it in me to be upset. Instead, I turn to Arlo, eyes wide, and when I see his smile, something in me unwinds, and I canbreatheagain.
“He’s fine,” he assures me. “And asked about you the moment we yanked the duct tape off of his mouth. Come on.” With long, quick steps, he leads me to the house, and when we move past the bush I’d dropped my phone into, I lean down and pick it up, wincing at the cracked screen.
Oh well. It was more than worth it.
Two dead men decorate the entryway, blood pooling around them, and I slow as we pass the kitchen, where Deacon Roger is slumped over the counter, knife wounds decorating his face and hands that I can see.
Three more men are in our way, and I peek into the office where Declan had talked to me, not surprised when I seehisbody resting on his desk, ass still planted in his chair.
Only now, his hand is completely gone, and by the way it looks like it had bled everywhere, I can only imagine that it was done before he died.
“I think he was sorry he fucked with Cyril again,” Arlo tells me, looking into the office as well. “Especially from the way he wasbeggingfor Cy to spare his life so he could prove some kind of loyalty to Chancellor.” The dark-haired male chuckles, and I peel myself away from the doorframe, instead going to the other room where I’d seen Isaac tied up and about to bemurdered.
I expect him to be hurt. Broken. Barely alive.
I expect the worst and prepare myself for it.
But instead, I see him stretching and working out a kink in his neck, blood dried on the side of his face and down his neck. He grimaces, pressing on his shoulder under a torn shirt where I can see a bruise, but that barely factors into my decision as Ilaunchmyself at him and wrap my arms around his waist.
“I thought you were dead,” I whisper, my face pressed against his chest. Slowly, like he’s sore, he pulls me in against him, arms around my shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Ari,” he chuckles. “But I told you I’d be okay, didn’t I?”
“They were going to kill you though!” I stare up at him through his mask of blood, surprised to find humor in his eyes.
“Well, yeah,” he admits. “But only after they found a way for Cyril to watch. So I was fine for a little while–”
“You weren’t fine! And it wasmy fault!” Tears cascade down my face as Ifinallylet myself fall apart for the first time since all of this shit happened. “What was I supposed todoif you weren’t okay?!”
“Suffer? Miss me? Put a flower on my grave and–”
“It’s not funny!”
“I know. I’m sorry, okay?” He tilts my head up and presses his bloody lips to mine, kissing mehard. As if his words are a lie for how he really feels. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull myself onto my tiptoes, eyes closed as I kiss him back just as deeply to let him know that I mean everything I said.
“I need you,” I say, pulling back with a wry laugh. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or if this is some shared madness from all of you that’s rubbed off on me, but Ineed you. All of you.”
“We need you too,” Isaac says, leaning forward to brush his lips against mine once more.
Cyril’s hands come down gently on my shoulders, he repeats the sentiment in my ear. “But maybe next time, don’t get kidnapped by my uncle’s biggest enemy, okay? It makes a lot of work for us.”
Ezra snorts, and from the corner of my eye, I can see him flipping the knife around his fingers, not looking put out about the amount of ‘work’ he’s had to do today. I can’t help but wonder if that sentiment is secretly shared amongstallthe Lost Boys.
