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"And what was that?" There's a dangerous edge to my inquiry.
His smile turns sardonic. "You'll never know."
His hand moves too quickly toward his jacket. It's instinct. My finger squeezes the trigger before his gesture completes. The gunshot echoes with a resounding finality.
"Fuck!" My curse fills the room, rebounding off the walls.
William's body hits the ground with a heavy thud, and his last expression is a frozen grimace. I wanted him dead, yes, but his words had opened a darker abyss, one I needed to explore. The answers he held are gone, swallowed by the silence of death.
Victor bursts in, his presence slicing through the gritty silence of the room. "Boss, everyone has been neutralized. Except for that bastard, Daniel. He's not here," he reports, his gaze locked onto mine. I nod once, sharply, as I pivot on my heel to leave the room.
"Have we lost any men?" I ask without looking back, feeling the weight of potential loss in every step I take.
Victor's affirmation is like a blow. "We've lost six men total," he says, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken sorrow.
As we move through the house, I begin to issue commands, my voice low and resolute. "Collect the bodies. Remove any traces of our presence here. If any of the men had families, pay for the funerals and give them severance. Make sure to convey our condolences," I instruct, my mind already calculating the cost of the night's actions.
"Okay," Victor replies, his footsteps in cadence with mine.
Upon reaching the entrance, I halt and face Victor squarely. "Set the house on fire when you finish. This isn't over by a long shot. William may have posed a threat, but he wasn't the biggest threat. We have to find the Nightingales," I say, my resolve burning fierce and unyielding. "Meet me at my home office tomorrow morning."
The cold night air bites at my skin as I step out of the pillaged house. I've always thought ridding the world of William Hawthorn would be the endgame. But the Nightingales have now made it to my list. A wry smile plays on my lips. Survival has always been a game of chess, and tonight, I've avoided being a pawn. Isabella's face floats into my mind, and I can almost hear her sigh of relief mixed with disapproval. I know she's praying for an end to this bloodshed, craving a semblance of normalcy that our lives constantly undermine.
But the chessboard has changed. There's no turning back. The engine of my car hums as I begin the drive home. My jaw sets, a silent vow etching itself deep within. I'll dismantle the Nightingales piece by piece. They think they can hide, but shadows are my domain. I swear on everything I hold dear, they will be eradicated. For Isabella, for my men, for the semblance of peace, we all damn well deserve.
30
CHAPTER 30
Isabella
"You cannot be serious!" I yell at Damien, and my voice bouncing against the walls of our bedroom. The fury and fear interlace as tightly as the fingers I've clenched at my sides.
"I never joke about your safety, Isabella," he says, but the sincerity in his voice does little to quell the anger in me.
"I'm not going to stay who knows how long at your mother's house while you go off into the night on a rampage," I tell him, the edges of my words sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air.
"You'll be better protected there. With my guards and my mother's, you'll be safer," Damien responds, but his solution only deepens the gap of worry that pits my stomach.
I fold my arms and huff in agitation, feeling the walls closing in. "Ever since you came home from whatever mission you went on, you've been insufferable. I thought you caught whoever the bad guys were. You told me everything was handled!"
Damien sighs in frustration, the sound weighted with unspoken burdens. "Itwashandled. Now, there's another threat to take care of."
"I knew it. It's always going to be like this, isn't it? There will always be a new threat. When will we be safe? When can things be normal?" I implore, the vulnerability in my voice making me feel naked and exposed.
"You didn't marry a normal man!" Damien yells back, the rawness of his emotion taking physical form in the space between us, causing me to take a step back.
He notices the gap, sees the apprehension in my eyes, and scrubs a hand down his face. "It won't always be like this, baby," he softens, his eyes locking with mine, pleading for understanding. "Our love blossomed during chaos. We don't have a normal yet. Promise me that you will do this. Do this for me. Allow me to take out this last threat, and we can create our normal. I'll show you what normal looks like."
I’m quiet for a moment, letting the silence say what words cannot before I nod with a shaky breath.
"I'm sorry, Damien. It's just..." I trail off, blaming the pregnancy hormones for my outburst, though we both know there's more haunting me than the erratic whims of an expectant mother.
Damien walks forward, placing his hand where our baby is just beginning to make its presence known, my stomach still not round enough to broadcast the life within.
"It's okay," he whispers, his touch a soothing balm over my fears.
I grab my duffel bag from the closet, stuffing it with essentials. Clothes, toiletries, and the framed photo of Damien and me from our quick wedding. My movements are hasty, robotic, and driven by adrenaline. Damien waits by the door with concern etched into every line of his feature. We leave together with the still of the night enveloping us as we slip into his car.
