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It’s not a factory, but it’s like a restored warehouse of some kind. Even a bar and several martini glasses line the wall.
Where are we?
Carefully, I slip the door closed again and try to think through my options. I can hide behind the blind spot of the metal door, and when they open it...what? I get my ass kicked again? Jesus, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
A sudden boom echoes around me, and I tense hard, nearly knocked off my feet from the impact. I take in a harsh breath to steady the racing of my heart. My hand grips the handle, and when I pull open the door, Rowan’s enormous stature is the first thing I see. His back is to me. At his feet, a man lies dead on the floor, blood pooling out around him while the other man wrestles Rowan for the gun in his hand.
The sight of it nearly brings me crashing to my knees, but I manage to stay upright. I want to rush into the fray and help, but I know logically I’ll be more of a hindrance than a help, so I stay rooted to the spot, feeling the tears stream down my cheeks.
The front door bursts open, and Ed walks in waving a gun, and it’s then that I can’t remain hidden any longer. I rush out, and the gun swivels from Rowan to me.
Everyone stops dead in their tracks. Rowan clocks the guy hard across the face, sending him tumbling back across the floor before turning the weapon on his stepfather. The two of them are in such a trance of heated hate, they don’t hear the sirens in the distance.
But I do.
“Put your gun down, Ed,” Rowan orders.
“You think you can save her, don’t you?” Ed sneers a nasty fucking smirk. “I tried to figure it out for a long time. She’s a fucked-up mess just like her mother. Why do you want something so broken, boy?”
Rowan doesn’t respond. I don’t even know if he really hears Ed. I can see his eyes flashing, his fingers tensing at his side like he’s dying to end this in the worst way possible, yet he’s still holding back.
He tried to do the right thing. To let the justice system break Ed down the old-fashioned way. To publicly watch his fall from grace, to watch Ed lose everything and all his dirty little secrets to come to light. Forme. Instead of giving him the dignity of a quick death, he waited to act out this slow vengeance in my honor.
But I can see now he’s only moments away from killing his stepfather.
Ed’s finger slides over his trigger, but Rowan’s gun resounds through the warehouse, drowning out my own beating heart. It’s a flash of sound and movement as the other gunman stands and slams into Rowan’s side, bringing him down fast and hard. Ed’s attention swings to the two of them, his eyes wide like he’s just as surprised as I am that he’s not been hit.
And then he’s striding toward them, his weapon lifting with intent. Fear strangles through me in a way I’ve never felt before as I see the line of fire so perfectly aimed at Rowan. Panic slashes through me and in a split second, I can see how it all plays out. I can see Ed firing and killing the only man I’ve ever loved and the only one who has ever loved me in return. It’s in that moment I realize that Rowan has walked through fire for me. Do I love him enough to do the same for him? And then I’m running. My vision blurs as more gunfire shakes through the room, but I don’t stop. I don’t pause for a single second.
Even as the knife is pulled from the bar, and I’m gripping Ed’s head from behind and slicing the blade as deep as I can get it across his meaty neck.
An empty, surprised gurgle is the last thing I hear before he falls to the floor. Silence settles into the space. No one moves. And when my full senses slam back into me, I notice things I hadn’t before. The sharp smell of blood. Bodies littering the concrete. The sounds a dying man makes as he crawls and struggles for his last few breaths.
I’ve seen dead bodies over and over. I’ve made death so pretty it’s brought tears to the eyes of the living. But I’ve never actually done this.
It’s one thing to dress up a corpse. Another entirely to create one from scratch.
It’s Rowan that looks up at me with wide, blue eyes. He blinks over and over again like he can’t really see me where I stand in front of him. His mouth opens and closes as he takes everything in.
Warmth crawls down my arm and hand, the blood a stark contrast against the bite of cold air as it drips slowly from my fingertips and along the knife’s edge.
I’m lost in the haze of this moment: The moment where life and death meet in the middle, one hanging precariously on a thin thread until it finally just...
Snaps.
The second it does, the tension loosens from my shoulders after a lifetime of hating him.
I stare down at the body. Deep lines lash across skin like red ribbons, wrapping the mutilated corpse like a twisted gift.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this, anyway...
Flashes of red and blue flicker across the dense shadows of the dark room.
A normal person would feel remorse for what they’ve done.
I just feel... free.
“Atlas, give me your knife,” Rowan whispers along my ear, his palm smoothing across my jawline and into my hair until he forces me to look at him.
