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Blood roars through my ears and I barely remember to breathe. The memory of having a gun held on me is still too raw, too fresh, for me to think about, and the reminder has a cold sweat breaking out on my brow.
“They invited you both here under the ruse of planning the wedding, but I think they have other plans.”
My eyes snap up to meet my sister’s which are so similar to my own. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think they might hurt Elijah.”
I’m running for the door before his name finishes rolling off her tongue. I need to stop this. They can’t hurt him, not when I’m finally starting to feel things for him, not when I’m finally starting to understand the connection he’s felt for a decade.
I’m down the stairs and sprinting toward Storm’s office before I can even think to ask where they are, and when I find the room empty, I know exactly where they’ll be.
The basement.
I continue down the hallway, not slowing down despite my lungs screaming at me to do so. I’ve never been much of a runner, and my body isn’t accustomed to this much physical exertion, especially after being locked in the same house for two weeks.
Without thought, I burst through the basement door, taking the steps two at a time. Muffled voices and groans of pain fill my ears, but I don’t stop.
I don’t stop when I see Elijah tied to a chair with blood running down his face.
I don’t stop when Rayne throws another punch, landing it in the middle of his torso.
And I certainly don’t stop when Everett catches a glimpse of me marching toward them.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, inserting myself between the three men and the man I’m coming to care for.
“Snow, this has nothing to do with you,” Storm says slowly. Anger vibrates off him, but he won’t hurt me. None of the men standing before me would lay a finger on me, and that’s the only advantage I have right now.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with me?” I shout, backing up until Elijah’s knees brush against the back of my own. “You have my fiancé tied to a fucking chair, beating him? Which part of this has nothing to do with me?”
“This is business,” Rayne tells me.
“Right.” I nod as if that’s the answer to all my questions. “Well, we’re leaving. And you can all consider yourselves uninvited from our wedding. I don’t want any of you there. You clearly can’t respect my choice of husband, and I won’t have you there ruining my day.” The words come out cold and callous.
“Snow—” Storm starts.
“No.” I put my hand up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“We had a shipment go missing the night you were attacked, and all signs point to Elijah,” Everett tells me.
I let out a breath, barely holding on to my temper. “The night I was attacked, Elijah didn’t leave my side for a moment. If he was going to pull off a job like that, don’t you think he’d have to make a call or two at the very least?” I raise a brow in question. I know men are capable of anything, especially men like Elijah, but something tells me he didn’t do this. I move behind Elijah and start working at the rope binding his wrists together. Beneath the scratchy material there are angry red marks from where he fought them, and my anger intensifies.
I’ve never been a particularly angry person, feisty yes, but not angry. Except for right now. Right now, the rage boiling in my blood blinds me, and I’m barely containing my need to pick up the baseball bat I’m certain they had planned to use on the man I’m about to marry and beat all three of them within an inch of their lives.
“Snowflake,” Elijah murmurs groggily.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
“You’re not taking him anywhere,” Storm snaps.
I drop the rope to the ground and stand, glaring at my brother. “Yes, I am. I’m taking my fiancé home.”
Rayne steps forward and I move my body between him and Elijah protectively, a snarl on my lips. I’m not the same woman I was a few weeks ago, and if they think I’m going to back down, they have another thing coming.
46
Elijah
I’ve seen many sides of Snow over the years I’ve followed her.
