It Pains Me (Betrayal #5)

17. Astrid

17

ASTRID

We walked in the door after dinner, Bolton’s dark mood apparent.

We hadn’t talked in the car on the way home. We hadn’t talked over dinner. I assumed he would explode once we were alone together in the house.

But instead of coming at me like he usually did when I acted up, he went into his study and shut the door. I heard his voice on the other side like he was talking on the phone. Couldn’t figure out what he was saying. Probably talking about the new client he’d just acquired.

I went upstairs and got ready for bed, washing off my makeup to reveal the full extent of my appearance. Hints of blue and purple were distinct in areas around my eyes and lips. After my conversation with Scarlett, I looked at myself differently. I used to tolerate my appearance, but now it killed me.

It killed me because I didn’t deserve this.

I’d tried to kill him and escape, and that just made everything worse.

But I couldn’t give up. Not when Scarlett would tell Theo…and he might come to my rescue. This could all be over soon.

Unless Theo didn’t come.

And Axel didn’t either.

Decided it was too big a risk. Axel had a family to think of. And Theo didn’t owe me anything.

The thought was too much. Because if they didn’t come for me, there was only one way out.

An option I didn’t want to think about.

Once my makeup was gone and I was ready for bed, I heard voices downstairs. It was almost midnight, so I didn’t know why people were in the house. Bolton never invited people over unless it was his brother and sister-in-law.

I opened the door, so I could listen better.

“Watch the security system,” Bolton said. “Keep an eye on the windows. The guys will radio in if they see anything.” He turned toward the stairs.

I stepped aside from the doorway and waited for him to join me.

He walked into the room, looking pissed off.

“What’s going on?”

“Pack your things. Just the essentials.”

In shock, I just stared at him. “What?”

“Pack. Your. Things.” He walked to his closet and tossed a few things on the bed. “I’ll send someone for the rest of our stuff later.”

“Why are we leaving?”

He gave an angry sigh before he looked at me. “Because I said so. Now grab your shit, or I will grab it for you.”

He knew. Or he was paranoid.

Either way, he was right on the money.

If we left the house tonight, it would be over. Theo would never find me. Bolton would take me to Spain or Croatia, live off the radar for a while and then move again until he decided that enough time had passed and Theo would have occupied himself with other matters. He might leave me there under the supervision of his men while he continued to work for the Brotherhood. He was a trained assassin who could disappear or hide in plain sight, so no matter how smart or resourceful Theo might be, he was up against a professional.

I walked to the closet and stared at my things, taking a moment to try to think of a way out of this. If I didn’t run tonight, I might not have another opportunity. But now, a group of men were in the house, and men outside were waiting to take us away.

I had no chance against these odds.

I would leave a note to be discovered by Theo, but I had no idea where we were going. “Where are we going?” I asked the question, but I didn’t expect an answer.

He stormed out of the closet then grabbed me with the speed of a lunging viper. He squeezed my neck. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?” I could barely speak over the way he compressed my throat.

“You planned to see her. You planned to tell her.”

I threw my elbow down on his arm and shoved him. “You’re the one who made the dinner plans. I had no idea where we were going until we pulled up to the restaurant. How could I have possibly planned this?”

He didn’t lunge at me again. “You could have said something.”

“I didn’t know what was going to happen, and even if I did, it wasn’t in my best interest to do so.”

That dark fire was in his eyes, like retribution was coming.

“This is our home, Bolton. I don’t want to leave it?—”

“Neither do I, but this is our reality now. So pack your shit, or we’re going to get on the plane with nothing.”

A plane…that meant another country. “Bolton, am I really worth this?”

He stopped to turn to me again.

“Is anything worth looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life? Is anything worth losing your home? You don’t even seem to enjoy my company?—”

“I told you to pack.”

“Make it make sense, Bolton?—”

He backhanded me. The slap was loud like a clap. “Why do you make me do this to you?”

My hand cupped my raw cheek, knowing it was red just from the heat.

“I don’t want to do this to you. I fucking hate it.”

I continued to rub my cheek. “You fooled me.”

He stared me down once again like he might strike me once more. He seemed to practice restraint for once, because nothing happened. He turned back to the closet and threw more items into a pile on the bed. “Let’s get moving.”

I carried my bag downstairs and saw the armed men near the couches. They spoke in quiet voices, like they didn’t want me to hear what they were saying. I looked around at the house that had felt like home these past few years. When Bolton had asked me to move in, he’d let me decorate it how I wanted, let me have more than half of the closet. He completely welcomed me into his life like I belonged there.

Those memories made me sad, because I wasn’t sure if they were real. Did the present have the power to change the past? It seemed like it, because whatever love had been here had died. It’d been burned at the stake like a witch on trial. Our departure should make me sad, but all the time I’d wasted was the only thing that made me sad. Precious time I would never get back. Opportunities I’d passed on. Even if Theo got bored of me and walked away, whatever time we’d had together would still have been worth it. It still would have been real. Those memories would make me warm, even if they made me sad too.

Bolton came down the stairs and dropped his bag next to mine. “Alright, let’s go.”

I eyed the man closest to me, a gun hanging out of the back of his jeans. Even if I grabbed it and none of them shot me, I would only have one chance to shoot Bolton before they took me down—and I’d probably miss.

One of the guys pressed his finger into his ear to listen to his comms. His hand went up to stop Bolton, like whatever message was being relayed was imperative. “Bolton, we’ve got company.”

My heart had been about to stop beating out of hopelessness, but suddenly, it started to beat again, harder than it ever had.

“Three Hummers.” He looked at Bolton. “There’s got to be at least fifteen guys.”

Now my heart was racing. Theo was coming for me…

Bolton turned to look at me and stared me down like this was all my fault, like I was some mastermind who had orchestrated the entire thing, when in reality, I’d just gotten lucky that he’d picked Scarlett’s restaurant. “Light ’em up.” He turned to his guys. “Get Astrid a vest. Shit’s about to go down.”

One of the guys brought me a bulletproof vest and helped me put it on. It felt like it weighed as much as a car on my now-thinner frame.

Bolton put on one himself and grabbed a shotgun from the closet.

The excitement faded away as the fear settled in. A war was about to take place, and I was right smack in the middle of it. If Theo failed, I would be stuck here forever—with his blood on my hands.

Bolton grabbed me by the hand, guided me around the couch, and forced me to kneel on the floor. “Stay here. Bullets are about to fly.”

I was on my knees on the rug, using the couch as another layer of protection. “Don’t kill him.”

He stared at me for several hard seconds, the irritation visible in his face like I’d just insulted him. “And what about me?”

My eyes shifted back and forth between his. “I don’t care what happens to you.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that to my own husband, the man whose last name I’d worn like a badge of honor. A wedding photo was on the end table beside us, but it meant nothing now.

Gunshots sounded in the distance because the battle had begun, but Bolton continued to stare at me like he hadn’t noticed. The pain in his eyes was bright like headlights, and I watched him swerve into the middle of the road as he lost control of the wheel.

I felt bad, but not bad enough.

He turned away as he cocked his shotgun.

Adrenaline and terror dumped into my body as the gunshots continued, distinctive outside the thick walls. Theo and his men might be killed before they even made it to the house, but three Hummers full of men and guns sounded like a force to be reckoned with.

Bolton called for backup, discharging more of his men to fight in the streets, while he remained safe in the house. These men were risking their lives just so Bolton could continue to keep me as a hostage. It wasn’t a life worth living, and it certainly wasn’t worth dying for either.

I had to sit there and listen to the gunshots and wonder what was happening. Wonder who was firing and who was receiving. My back was against the couch, and my arms were around my knees, bringing in my body tight, the vest so heavy it was hard to breathe. I wanted to take it off, but I didn’t dare.

The gunshots stopped.

Bolton’s men tried to radio the others—but were met with silence.

I closed my eyes as I felt the relief and the guilt. I was happy Bolton’s men were dead, when no one deserved to be dead that night.

“I’ve dispatched the others,” Bolton said. “They’ll be here before they can get in the house?—”

A loud boom shook the entire house. My hands moved over my ears, and I ducked my head, expecting debris to fall from the ceiling and land on top of me.

There was a commotion between the men as they worked to barricade the front door like Alexander the Great was on the other side about to claim Persia in the name of Macedonia. There was another loud bang, like Theo was trying to take down the door with explosives.

Our front door was heavy and made out of iron, and now I understood why. It was the gates to the keep, the entryway to a king’s fortress, and it wasn’t coming down without an army to plow through it.

Windows shattered, and I covered my head again, expecting shards to fall from the skies even though I was nowhere near the windows. Another loud bang sounded, and then there was fire from the explosion that took the door down.

The smoke was immediate, filling the downstairs of the house and making the air hazy. It was chaos after that, and I couldn’t discern what was happening from behind the couch. There were gunshots and grunts, the same sounds of fighting that I’d heard outside my bedroom door when Bolton deployed those men in that fake robbery. The smoke burned my lungs, and I struggled to breathe right away. It became so much that I got on my hands and knees and crawled away, heading to the back windows. When I was halfway there, I saw men on the other side of the glass, men looking for another way in.

I didn’t know if they were Bolton’s men or Theo’s.

I got to my feet and moved around the couch, coughing because it was getting harder to breathe, ready to find a way out before I suffocated in the smoke, but the sight before me made me halt in my tracks. Dead men on the floor, one stabbing the other over and over in the neck, a man forced to eat the gun of another. It was a massacre—all because of me.

I didn’t see Theo.

I didn’t see Bolton.

I shrank into the corner, unsure what to do or how to escape. It seemed like staying out of the way was the only option I had right now.

Then a man was thrown across the room, rolled across the floor, and then smacked into the back of the couch with enough force that the couch nearly toppled over where I’d been just a moment ago.

I looked at him—and realized it was Bolton.

He was on his feet instantly, brandishing a long dagger.

Then I saw Theo through the smoke. He didn’t cough, even though the black smoke came from flames that had started to engulf the house. Theo had treated me coldly, shown me his annoyance with his hard stare, but he’d never looked at me the way he looked at Bolton. It made me realize I’d met Theo…but never the Skull King.

Theo lunged at him, unaware of me beside him.

Bolton was on his feet with his dagger, swiping at Theo across his throat and missing, then moving for his stomach, his body so fluid it looked like a dance rather than an attack.

Theo was able to dodge each thrust of the knife, but only barely. He tried to aim with his gun, but Bolton was so damn fast that he could never get a good aim. Bolton was like a samurai who had so much skill with the blade that a bullet could never keep up.

Bolton made a move and knocked the gun from Theo’s hand.

My heart gave a lurch, watching the battle turn toward defeat.

Bolton slashed with his knife, backing Theo across the room and drawing enough blood that it immediately stained his shirt. Bolton rushed him again, getting a surge of energy from his impending victory.

Theo didn’t react to the cut he’d received and managed to slam his knuckles underneath Bolton’s chin and catch him off-balance for just a second. The dagger fell to the floor, and when Bolton went to reach for it, Theo stepped on it with his foot and hit Bolton harder than I’d ever seen one man hit another.

Bolton was sent to the floor.

I tried to skirt backward farther into the couch, but I had nowhere to go.

The fire became worse. The smoke unbearable. The heat made every part of me sweat.

But Bolton popped back up like the dead from the grave and kicked Theo in the leg, freeing the dagger. He lunged and grabbed it and then sliced it across Theo’s leg.

Theo stomped on his hand then kicked him in the face.

But Bolton was a cockroach that wouldn’t die, and he was back on his feet, slicing with one hand and then using the other hand to punch.

The men were locked in a deadly battle, two titans moving as silhouettes with the fire as the backdrop, other men still fighting, smoke everywhere.

All I could do was sit there and try not to pass out.

I couldn’t even follow what was happening anymore, both men moving with speed and strength that were unparalleled. Something happened, and Theo ended up thrown into the wall. He almost slid to the floor, but he caught himself before he fell.

Then I saw the blade sticking out of his shoulder, just inches from his neck.

“No…”

Bolton reached for the gun on the floor.

It was one of those moments when I had less than a second to make a decision—and I did. I threw myself at Bolton and knocked him to the floor, making the gun fly across the floor.

Bolton threw me off him and punched me in the face. But he pulled his fist back when he realized it was me, and the rage on his face was something I would never forget. The glow of the fire hit his eyes…and made them look like lava from a volcano.

At that moment, part of the ceiling collapsed, sparks of ash filling the dark air. Some of the men were trapped underneath, and their screams accompanied the gunfire.

Bolton glanced at the distraction then got to his feet and pulled me with him.

I twisted out of his grasp.

But he grabbed me again and started to force me. “Get up!”

“Fuck off!” I twisted again then punched him square in the face. It made my hand sting, either because I punched him so hard or I just didn’t know how to throw a punch.

Another part of the ceiling collapsed.

“You’re going to die here.”

“I’d rather die here than be with you!” Angry tears came to my eyes, seeing a man I no longer recognized, a man whose funeral I would never attend. I despised him with every ounce of my being.

Bolton finally let me go and turned away.

But Theo appeared again, the blade gone from his shoulder, and he punched Bolton so hard it sent him flying into the smoke.

“Theo!” A man’s voice came from the haze. “This is gonna come down. We’ve got to go.” He stepped out of the smoke and grabbed me by the arm.

I didn’t turn away, because it was Axel.

“Take her.” Theo turned away to go after Bolton.

“Theo.” Axel grabbed his attention with just his voice. “I’m not leaving here without you, so come on. He’s not worth it.”

Theo continued to stare at him.

“We’ve got like ten seconds,” Axel said. “And Scarlett will kill you if I die.”

Theo grabbed my hand in the smoke and pulled me with him.

I coughed harder than I had before, and my mind turned hazy…as if I only had seconds left. He pulled me out of the burning building, all my memories torched in fire, my past engulfed in flames, and led me into the cold winter air outside.

I gasped for air—and finally got a breath.

A breath of freedom.

The stars were impossible to see through the smoke. People were in the street watching the madness unfold. There were no police, like they somehow knew to stay away. Theo continued to pull me by the hand, and I just let him, unable to think for myself because it was all a blur.

He walked up to a Hummer and yanked the door open before he helped me inside in a rush.

I fell into the seat and turned to look at him.

But he shut the door and hit his fist against the window.

The driver immediately pulled away. The house disappeared. So did the fire.

I turned in my seat to look behind me, to see the villa completely ablaze as Theo walked back to the house—determined to finish what he started. Bolton would let his men be fed to the wolves, but Theo wouldn’t stop until he was the last wolf standing.

I was taken to Theo’s fortress. His butler escorted me through his grand foyer with the staircase and showed me into the study. The place used to smell like cigar smoke, but now I was the one who reeked of it. He offered me refreshments and food, but I was too sick to want food. I only accepted a water.

I waited and waited.

Sometimes, I paced the room. Sometimes, I stared at the paintings he’d bought from my gallery. Well, my old gallery. Sometimes I looked out the window to the street below like I would see Theo drive home in one of the Hummers.

I didn’t know what would happen now. Would he let me sleep here for the night before I was on my own the next morning? All of my things had been destroyed in the fire, and while that was a nuisance, it was somewhat liberating to have a fresh start. To let the flames burn away any evidence that Bolton had ever touched me. I was cleansed by the heat, rebuilt in the forge of the flames.

It was hours before Theo returned. Nearly sunrise. My body was dead tired from the hour and the terror, but I couldn’t close my eyes until I saw his face.

I heard his voice in the other room as he spoke to his butler. I left the couch and stood, my frantic heart in my throat, my palms sweaty like the fire was in the room.

He walked in, his shirt having been cut away so a bandage could be secured around his shoulder. One side of his face was bruised from being hit in the face with a gun or a fist. His eyes were both angry and tired. But other than those ailments, he looked well.

His eyes found mine as he walked up to me, his expression impossible to decipher. He looked angry but also relieved to see me.

I thought I would fire off with a bunch of questions, but now that I was face-to-face with him, I didn’t have anything to say. It felt like a dream to look at him. I’d thought I would never meet his gaze again, that I would end up dead and Theo would never know. I should thank him. I should hug him. I should do something…but nothing came out.

He spoke first. “I lost a few guys. Your house is gone. Bolton got away. Axel is okay.”

“And what about you?” His well-being was what I cared for most.

His dark eyes held mine. “I’m fine.”

“Good…good.” I thought I would have more to say if this moment ever arrived. Being trapped with my thoughts while he was gone had chased off my courage. “Thank you for saving me.”

He continued to watch me.

“And I’m sorry about your men.” I was sorry for Bolton’s men too, because tonight was not a night when people should have died. It was a stupid cause. They died for a psychopath’s obsession, and no amount of money made that justifiable.

“As am I.”

My arms crossed over my chest as I felt the heat of his stare. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me there. If he was annoyed that I stood in his study. I really didn’t know my place in his life anymore. “Thank you again. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I said he got away.”

“I know, but I’m not your problem?—”

“You think I did all of this just for you to be recaptured?” His temper flared. “That my men died just for you to end up in the same situation?”

“No. But you don’t owe me anything else.”

“You’re staying here.”

“Until you kill him?”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize that was an option.”

“That’s the only way this is going to end.” It was the only way I’d ever breathe easy. If Theo didn’t want me to stay with him, I’d have to move to another country with a new identity and lay low. “I tried to shoot him myself, but I missed and got him in the arm.” Bolton had taught me how to use a gun but not how to aim it, especially in a split second.

Theo continued to stare at me. “Then it must have been bad.”

He would never know how bad it had been because I would never tell. I would never dig into the details of my imprisonment, how Bolton had destroyed every piece of my heart and soul. His wedding ring was still on my hand, and I wished it’d been burned in that fire. “I wish you’d killed him.”

“I assumed you’d want me to spare him.”

“He gave me no mercy, so he deserves none himself.”

A flash of anger moved across his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

With that enraged expression, I expected him to scream at me, but his fury seemed to be reserved for himself. “It’s okay?—”

“It’s not okay. I prioritized my own anger over your words. It was petty and low. Like it was a fucking game, I cared more about winning the match than letting you speak. The women and the booze were a shitty antidote, so I went for closure instead. I’m fucking sorry.”

“I could have tried harder.”

“Don’t make excuses for me. I’m a man who takes accountability for my mistakes. And this was a big fucking mistake with immeasurable cost.”

“Theo, I’m not your responsibility, so you’re being too hard on yourself?—”

“Any woman who comes to me for help is my responsibility.”

My arms tightened over my chest as I felt the same flush of affection for him that had never died. If I’d left Bolton and chosen Theo, this outcome probably would have been the same. People would have died. And Bolton or Theo would be dead right now. It was never going to be a simple choice.

“I made you cry then taunted you for it. You dashed into the bathroom to hide your tears, and I just fucking left.” His eyes dropped down. “I’m ashamed of my behavior.”

Bolton could strike me without remorse, but Theo hung himself at the guillotine for minor crimes. The measure of these men was incomparable, and I hated myself for not seeing the difference sooner. “I’m ashamed that I chose Bolton over you. Biggest mistake of my life.” I didn’t look at him as I said those words because of the shame. I didn’t expect his forgiveness, and I wouldn’t strive for it. I didn’t justify it either, because it didn’t matter anymore. I could tell him how much I’d thought about him these last few months, how jealous I’d felt at the idea of him being with other women, how I’d fantasized about the life we could have had when I was stuck in my misery. But I didn’t deserve to say any of those things. “You didn’t take my call, but you showed up when it mattered most.”

He didn’t say anything to that, not that I expected him to.

The desperation and the longing were too much. I wanted to be held by him, to get into that big bed and feel his body warm the sheets. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and look into his espresso eyes. But he wasn’t mine anymore—and he would never be mine again. I had to distract myself. Otherwise, I’d lose it. “So, what happens now?”

There was a long pause as he stared at me, like he was lost in his own thoughts. “You’ll stay here until I kill him.”

“You could put me somewhere else. Like a hotel or another property. If we do the transfer in secret, he shouldn’t figure out where I am.”

“I want you here with me.”

My eyes found his, hanging on the hook of his words.

“If he comes for you, he’ll have to come through me, and then I’ll finish this.”

I was given a spare bedroom down the hall from Theo. His butler gave me a supply of clothes and toiletries, so I would be able to shower and change my outfit. It was a nice room, with a large bed, a sitting room, and a big bathroom. It was much smaller than Theo’s, but still a dream.

I sat on the couch and examined the room, the floral bedspread, the champagne-pink rug on the floor that matched the curtains that were drawn open over the windows. A pile of books was on the coffee table, along with a little vase of pink roses. It was clean, like his butler had it deep-cleaned, even though no one ever slept there. With coffered ceilings and wallpaper and artwork and sculptures, it was a bedroom from a magazine spread. Even though Bolton was wealthy, he never cared about the home aesthetic. He didn’t think an interior decorator was necessary. Didn’t trust anyone enough to have a butler or a chef. That meant all the household responsibilities had fallen to me.

I’d showered and changed into silk pajamas, the sunlight coming through the open curtains. My eyes were dead tired, but I still couldn’t sleep, not after the fire and the chaos that had happened during the night.

I still couldn’t believe I was there and Bolton wasn’t. I could literally do anything I wanted without repercussions. I could get on a plane or a train. I could walk to a coffee shop. Theo was a criminal warlord who killed without remorse, but to me, he was a gentle giant. His heart was made of pure gold.

If I could go back in time, I would have done everything differently. I wouldn’t have been na?ve and believed Bolton’s lies. I wouldn’t have fallen for his tears and his remorse. I would have pardoned Theo’s crimes and given him lifelong immunity.

I wanted to cry—both in joy and sadness.

I was finally free. Free of a liar and a psychopath. My bruises would heal.

But never my heart.