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He stands behind the motherfucker, bloody and bruised, like a berserker in battle. Looking down in disgust at the man trapped between us, one second his hands are on the sides of his head, the next one his head is facing the opposite direction on a chilling crack that creeps up my spine. The guy crumples to the ground just as I realize the commotion has subsided.
Looking around, the last of Bartiste’s men go down at the hands of ours. It’s a goddamn bloodbath.
“The girls,” Finn heaves, as blood rushes from the split skin on his lip and brow arch.
“Call the clean-up crew now!” Madds orders our men.
Finn comes to me and checks the knife stuck in my back. It’s in my right side, close to my waist. I think it missed everything vital. With a nod, he plants a hand on my shoulder, and fire splits my flesh as he pulls the blade out. I don’t dwell. There’s no time. Quickly ripping my suit jacket off, I tie it around my waist, putting as much pressure there as I can. The blade is thin, so I don’t think it did much damage.
“I’m going to go sort out this situation with management. Make sure it’s under wraps. You guys go!” Vincent orders us.
I don’t need to hear more. I run down the terrace steps, thankful I don’t have to go through the main grounds or the reception area of the estate, and head straight to the back parking lot. I really hope our damn car is okay; otherwise, we’re fucked. I hear others running behind me, but I don’t care who came. I just know I need to get there.
When the car comes into view, I turn on the keyless ignition, sighing with relief when there’s no bang. Madds drops to the ground and looks for any surprises underneath it. Ben, one of our guys, pops the hood and does the same.
All clear.
By the time I’m in the passenger seat, my phone is in my hand, finger just about to swipe on Annika’s number, but her name lights up on the screen before I get the chance.
“Are you okay?!” I almost shout.
“Someone’s here, Ronan! Two boats came.” Her voice is shaky, quiet.
“When?”
“They docked some time ago, maybe ten minutes. We were outside, we thought it was you guys…” She’s heaving like she’s been running a marathon, and I don’t know if it’s from fear, anxiety, or if she’s actually been running. “We wanted to go meet you…”
“Baby, where are you?!”
“Then we heard shots fired. We ran back…”
“Where are our men? Is there someone with you?” I rasp.
“Louis and Dan were out with us. Another one remained at the house. But… Ronan, I can’t hear anymore gunfire.”
Shit.
Either our men eliminated the threat, or… the chilling alternative I can’t bear to think of.
“We’re coming, baby, we’re on our way.”
“You’re on a boat? I don’t hear a boat. Where—” Her voice breaks with hope. “Where are you?”
“Tell me you’re hiding right now.”
“Ronan!” she warns, but it comes out more as begging.
“We’re not on a boat, but we’re on the way.”
All the rage I felt earlier has now seeped into a fear so deep, the knife wound in my side is a tickle compared to the pain this terror brings.
“Please hurry.” She sounds so goddamn pure, so soft and breakable.
And I’m failing her.
“We’re in that hidden room that leads from the library to the dining room. Louis and Dan are with us. I think there’re two more in the house. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
She’s not alone. Good.
