CHAPTER 46
ILAY
The car stops and I see smoke pouring from the house, thick and black, rising into the sky. My men swarm the property, shouting, throwing water at flames licking through the windows, but I can’t hear any of it over the roaring in my ears, over my pulse hammering against my skull.
I’m out of the car before the engine dies, my feet hitting the gravel hard. “Where is she?!” The words rip from my throat. One of the guards turns to face me, his face smeared with soot. “Sir, we’re trying to contain the fire, but….”
“I didn’t ask about the fire.” My voice drops, deadly quiet. “Where is Iris?” His throat works, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing comes out.
Without waiting for an answer. I shove past him and sprint toward the house, the smoke hitting me the moment I reach the door, searing down my throat, making me cough violently, but I force myself forward.
“IRIS!” Her name tears out of me, ragged and hoarse.
Silence answers me, broken only by crackling flames and my men shouting.
I take the stairs two at a time, my boots pounding against the wood. The hallway is thick with smoke, and when I reach her door, I kick it in.
Not to my surprise the room is empty. The window stands open, curtains billowing gently in the breeze. She’s Gone. I stand there staring at that open window, willing time to reverse itself, as if I could drag her back simply by wanting it badly enough
I turn and grab the closest guard by his collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. “You’re all dead. Every single one of you.” His eyes go wide. “Sir, we didn’t know—”
“I don’t care what you knew.” I release him, and he crumpled to the floor, then i turn to the others gathered in the doorway.
“Get the helicopter. Now.” They scatter, and I’m left standing trying to get my breathing under control.
My phone is in my hand before I even register pulling it out.
The fire was a distraction. She had already planned to leave she started this but I knew she could not do this alone.
Someone had to have helped her carry out his plan.
***
The helicopter descends within minutes, cutting the air.
I stride out before it lands, scanning the tree line stretching out behind the house “Thermal imaging,” I bark at the pilot as I haul myself into the cabin.
“Find her.” The equipment hums to life, and within seconds the screen lights up with blooms of red and orange.
Most of them are small, animals moving through the underbrush, but then I see them—two figures running through the trees, outlined in bright orange.
“There.” I jab my finger at the screen. “Land.”
“Sir, the trees are too dense for a landing. We’d have to—”
“I said land.” We drop fast, the helicopter lurching as it descends, and my men pour out the moment we touch ground, drawing their weapons.
I start moving, crashing through the underbrush with branches whipping against my face, but I don’t feel any of it because all I can focus on is the sound of footsteps ahead, panicked breathing, and twigs snapping under running feet.
I push myself faster, to the point that my legs burn, and then I see her.
Iris is stumbling through the trees, her hair wild and tangled, her clothes torn and dirty, and the investigator has his hand wrapped around her wrist, dragging her forward.
“Iris!” She looks back over her shoulder, and when those eyes meet mine I see pure terror.
The investigator yanks her harder. “Don’t stop.
Keep moving.” I raise my gun and aim at his back.
“Don’t shoot at her!” I roar at my men. “Shoot at him!” Gunfire cracks through the forest, and the investigator jerks to the left, pulling Iris with him.
She screams, and then something happens that makes my blood run cold.
She runs closer to him, and puts her body between him and the bullets, shielding him from me.
“Don’t fucking shoot!” The words tear out of my throat.
“Nobody fucking shoot!” My men hesitate, lowering their weapons as they look at me with confusion.
“Just run and catch them,” I snarl. “Nobody shoots. GO!”
We surge forward, crashing through the underbrush, and I can see the investigator glancing back with panic written all over his face as he realizes we’re gaining on them.
Iris is slowing him down, her legs giving out every few steps, and he keeps having to haul her back up, his grip on her wrist never loosening.
I will cut off that hand he’s touching her with.
I’m close enough to hear her sobbing, that is close enough range to aim and fire.
BANG! The shot hits him in the shoulder, and he goes down hard, taking Iris with him.
She hits the ground with a cry, her hands scraping against the dirt, as I close the distance within seconds.
The investigator is on his knees, bleeding, and Iris is on the ground beside him, scrambling backward on her hands and knees.
“Ilay, please—”
“Shut up, my love.” I kick the investigator’s gun away, and it skids across the dirt, coming to a stop a few feet from where Iris is crouched.
Instead of going for the gun, she scrambles to her feet and positions herself in front of the investigator, spreading her arms wide, shielding him with her body A-FUCKING-AGAIN.
"Don't." Her voice shakes, but it's firm. "Please, Ilay. Don't do this." I stare at her standing there protecting him, with spread arms. “Move, baby.”
“No.” She plants her feet, lifting her chin. “You’ll have to go through me.”
“Don’t test me, angel.”
“I mean it.” Her voice cracks but she doesn’t move.
“If you want to hurt him, you’ll have to hurt me first.” I take a step forward, and she reaches back with one hand, placing it on the investigator’s shoulder, and that simple touch, her hand on another man, has me wanting to convulse.
“Take your hand off the filth, angel,” I say quietly. “No.”
“Iris, sweetheart.” I take another step closer. “Move your hand. Now.”
"Or what?" Tears stream down her face, but her hand stays planted on his shoulder. "You'll kill me too?"
“You care about him?” I ask, raising my gun, aiming it at her chest. “Do you care about him, my love?”
“He’s got nothing to do with our twisted relationship,” she whispers. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“That’s not what I asked, princess.” I cock the gun. “Do you care about him?”
“Yes.” Her voice cracks. “Yes, I care about him. He risked his life to save me.”
I lower the gun, and walk toward her until I’m close enough to see the tears on her face, and that annoying hand on his. “Move, baby,” I say softly. “Or I’ll shoot through you to get to him.”
Her breath hitches. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, angel.” I raise the gun again, aim it at the space between her ribs. “Move. Now.”
She stays where she is. Crying. While keeping her Hand still on his shoulder. “Last chance, sweetheart. Move, or I pull this trigger and you both die.”
“Then do it,” she whispers. I stare at her for a long moment, then lower the gun, aiming it at the ground beside the investigator. “Pick up the gun, princess.” She looks at the gun lying in the dirt, then back at me. “No.” I fire a shot into the investigator’s leg. He flinches, and Iris screams.
“Pick up the gun, baby.” She doesn’t move. I fire another shot at his other exposed leg.
“Angel, pick up the gun, or the next one goes in his thigh.” She finally breaks, stumbling forward, her hand leaving his shoulder as she bends down and wraps trembling fingers around the grip. She stands slowly, picking up the gun. “That’s my good girl,” I say gently. “Now shoot him, princess.”
“I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“I have all day, my love.” I gesture to the investigator bleeding on the ground.
“He’s gonna die of blood loss baby, why not just put him out of his misery.
” She raises the gun with shaking hands, aims it at the investigator’s head.
Then, she turns and points it directly at my chest. My men tense, but I hold up a hand.
I smile. “Go ahead, angel,” I say softly, walking toward her. “Shoot me.”
She’s sobs, trembling visibly, but she keeps the gun trained on me as I close the distance.
When I’m close enough, I press my chest against the barrel.
“Here, baby. This is a better angle. Do it. End both our misery.” Her breath hitches, as she tightens her grip on the trigger.
She pulls the trigger and the gun clicks uselessly, the safety still engaged.
Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. I smile, reaching out to gently take the weapon from her limp hands. “Safety was on, baby.” I flip the switch on the side. Click. Pressing the gun back into her hands. I wrap my large fingers over her small ones, locking her grip tight.
“Now it’s off,” I whisper against her ear.
“Try again.” She holds my gaze. I'm giving her an impossible choice, and she knows it.
But she can't. She won't kill me. The gun drops from her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I can’t.” I pick up the gun and press it back into her hands, then turn her to face the investigator.
“Since you can’t shoot me, sweetheart,” I say, wrapping my hand around hers on the gun, guiding her aim to his head, “shoot him.” She doesn’t apologize this time, shocking me she pulls the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the trees as his body crumples.
She bends over to vomit onto the forest floor while I catch her hair back.
“It’s okay, princess,” I say, rubbing her back as she heaves. “it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Her response is more retching until there’s nothing left and I pick her up, carrying her to the helicopter.
***
We get back to the house where I set her on the couch in the main living room. She sits there staring at nothing. Her crying stopped on the way back, only small hiccups leaving her lips occasionally.
“Call everyone,” I tell my men. “Everyone who was here today.” Within minutes they’re all gathered, each ones face is paler than the next, avoiding eye contact with me and iris.
“You,” I say, looking at each of them. “All of you are the reason this happened. You’re the reason I came home to find her gone.
” I pull out my gun. “So who was supposed to be watching her? Tell me the idiots who were on duty on the count of three, if not, I’m going to kill every single one of you. One. Two—”
“I’ll marry you!” The words explode out of her, silencing the room. I turn slowly. “What did you say?”
“I’ll marry you,” she says again, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll fucking marry you. Just don’t kill them. Please.” I walk over to her, crouching down so we’re eye level. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Yes," she sobs. "Yes, I'm sure." I cup her face. My thumbs brush the wet from her cheeks, and then I kiss her. Slow. Deep. Like we're running out of time. When I pull back, I’m smiling. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
“Yes,” she whispers, hollow. But even as she says it, even as I feel the victory of finally having her agreement, something feels wrong.
“But I don’t want this,” I hear myself say, and the words surprise even me.
“I don’t want you to say yes because you’re scared.
I don’t want you to marry me to save them.
” She stares at me, confusion flickering through the tears.
“I want you to accept me for who I am,” I continue. “I want you to say you’ll marry me out of your own free will. Not because I’m holding a gun to someone’s head. Not because you’re trying to save people. I want you to choose me because you love me.”
“This is my free will,” she says desperately. “I’m saying it because I want to.”
“No, you’re not.” I stand up and run a hand through my hair. “You’re doing it to save them. You’re not doing this because you love me.” And that’s when I realize just how fucked up this whole situation really is. I want her love, I want her touch but I also want her to love me.