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Five bullets shot.
Five bodies slain.
I shake my head, my eyes burning with unshed tears that I refuse to let go of.
I’m alive.
Layla’s alive.
He didn’t kill us. He didn’t.
So why do I feel like death is just biding his time, as if I owe him a debt that only my life can pay?
“Zoey. Zoey!” I hear my sister call out, holding my hand to lift me up from the chair.
I follow her lead, my eyes locking on the ugly bandage on her shoulder, proof that my dear sister danced with the devil and won.
“I’ll get us out of this place. I promise,” she whispers as she pulls me out of the room. “I promise I’ll keep us safe.”
I grimace at the hope in her voice.
No one can keep us safe.
Not even our angel.
Not when death has a debt to collect.
A cold shiver runs down my back, bringing me out of that somber memory. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing here, but the minute I do, I just want to get out of this room as quickly as I can. The need to escape makes it hard for me to breathe, much less concentrate. It’s almost as if the grim reaper is smiling down at me, whispering in my ear that he has been waiting for me. Clumsily, I shove the pin into the small lock again, twisting and turning it like a woman possessed. When I hear a familiar click, I rush to open the cabinet drawer, not bothering to look at the names on the files as I take as many as I can hide under my shirt and get the hell out of there.
As I run out of the office and into the corridor, my skin feels like it’s being burned alive with how the files scrape against my stomach and chest. I push forward, hurrying my steps to the front door. I can still hear the commotion coming out of the dining area, alerting me that I don’t have much time. When I turn the knob to my prison and see Gray jumping over the fence to reach me, I finally take a full breath of air into my lungs.
“That was stupid, little doe, so stupid,” he reprimands me, but I don’t feel his angry words on me, only his warm embrace. I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heart beat a mile a minute.
He’s alive.
Layla’s alive.
I’m alive.
I hold onto him tighter, as if he’s the only one who can cast my demons away, and when Gray tightens his hold in response, kissing the top of my head affectionately, all the tension in my limbs evaporates. Knowing the clock is ticking, I reluctantly pull away just enough to hand him the stolen files.
“I hope those help.”
He takes them from me, but he doesn’t spare the files a second look, preferring to stare into my eyes.
“What’s wrong, little doe?” he asks softly, lifting my chin with his knuckles.
I turn my head to face the front door of the house, dread instantly starting to seep back into my bones.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, unable to vocalize what I just went through.
I’m about to try and explain that a long-lost memory from my past almost crippled me when he flings me around, my chest hitting his, right before his lips fall on mine. His kiss is uncharacteristically soft, his lips molding onto mine in the sweetest of ways. His gentleness makes my breath catch, and it was as if he knew that I needed solace to push the chaos away. My mind instantly goes blank as I give in to the kiss and offer my heart to him on a plate.
It was always his for the taking anyway.
This kiss just proves it.
“What did you do that for?” I ask when he grudgingly breaks the kiss, his hands never leaving my hips.
