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There’s a deafening crack, and I close my eyes, prepared for the inevitable pain of a bullet piercing me. Instead, the Russian stumbles, cursing. My eyes fly open to reveal him taking aim at someone I can’t see, someone standing outside the room. He charges at the door, firing while holding his other hand to his bleeding thigh, causing more shouts in the hall. “He’s getting away!” somebody yells between shots, and I think it might be Griffin.
And then Griffin comes in, runs to me, and cuts the rope around my wrists. I’m too relieved to speak. I can barely think. They’re here, they saved me, and that’s all I need to know. The rest can wait. I feel Griffin lift me off the bed, but I may as well not be in my body. It’s like I’m watching from outside as Griffin carries me out while Trent and Dallas cover us. “You’re all right. You’re safe now,” Griffin assures me, but I don’t have it in me to thank him. I can’t form the words. All I can do is rest my head against his shoulder as we emerge into sunshine, where an SUV awaits. Griffin lifts me into the back and sits with me in his lap while Dallas takes a seat next to us, wrapping his hand around mine and holding tight. It’s over for now. I’m safe with them.
But my mother is dead. I was so determined to save her and bring us all back together, and it was for nothing. They could’ve killed me. I could’ve gotten the guys killed when they came to get me.
I failed.
“You’re all right now,” Griffin whispers, and somehow it’s the sweet sympathy in his voice that breaks me. Once the tidal wave of emotion slams into me, there’s no helping it. Tears flow freely down my cheeks as one broken sob after another fills the car. Nobody says a word.
That is, until we make it back to the hotel. My head hurts from the crying, and I hurt pretty much all over. That doesn’t mean I need to be carried—I shake my head when Griffin tries to help me from the SUV once in the garage, forcing myself to stand on my own two feet.
“We took out a couple of their guys, but the rest got away,” Trent explains, and now I see Mason waiting for us in front of the elevator doors. His arms folded, and he’s wearing that look of his, the one that practically screams how he’s the master of the universe, and he doesn’t appreciate being defied.
When he opens his mouth, his chest puffed out like he’s ready to let loose, Dallas holds up a hand. “Don’t,” he warns. That’s all it takes for Mason’s mouth to snap shut, for concern to replace some of his anger.
Not all of it, though. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Sure, if that’s what he thinks. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. All I want is to curl up in a dark room and sleep forever. Sleeping is so much easier than facing the truth.
23
DALLAS
It’s like walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around the apartment, hoping to keep Natalie calm and in one piece after what she’s been through. Not that she’s had any sort of outburst in the twenty-four hours since we brought her back from that horror she faced. Quite the opposite. She’s been practically catatonic since sharing the bare basics of what took place. What she lost.
Which means there’s a chance once the shock wears off, and she can allow herself to feel that she’s going to break down. Seeing her in such distress, and the thought of it only getting worse, has my chest aching painfully. If I could just take the pain away, I would.
Could it be that I care more for her than I thought I did? Sure, I knew she was special. I knew I liked her, but what about beyond liking? There’s a reason I wanted to be the one to locate her and bring her home when she first ran, the same reason I couldn’t bear staying behind during the recovery mission.
Finding her tied to that bed, though? Blood running down her arms, an expression of pure terror carved into her familiar features? I’ve seen terror before. I’ve seen what it can do to people. I had never seen it from her, and that is the problem. That’s why I can’t bring myself to tell her off for being stupid enough to run again. The fuck did she think she was going to accomplish? That’s one of many questions I would love to pose but don’t have the heart to.
I will never be able to make sense of what she does to me, but I do know that even after all the things she put me through, I still love her.
