Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finnic
“I’ll pay you back I swear, just don’t-”
The video keeps playing, but my brain lags behind it, like it can’t catch up to what my ears have already accepted. Her father’s voice breaks again, the polished tone from before gone.
I watch her instead now.
Her shoulders are still, with a hint of tension in them. Her knuckles whiten as she tightens her fists together and she doesn’t blink as she watches the video play out.
Dante speaks as she keeps her eyes locked on the screen. “They pulled a police report,” he says.
He then glances over at her, reaching out to tuck a displaced piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s from a few years ago, and damn was it buried deep.” He continues, “She went in alone to file the report, but was seen leaving with Mr. Armani here attached at her hip. A little fishy, don’t you think?”
My chest tightens.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
All I could do was continue to stare at her in absolute shock.
She’s been put through the wringer her entire life with that man and we brought her here and traumatized her some more.
So much for Dante thinking she was some type of mysterious villain.
She sighs before replying, “I thought if I told someone official, it would stop.”
I feel something twist low in my gut.
Dante shifts behind me. “The report never went anywhere. His people intercepted it and classified it as a family dispute. No follow-up. And definitely no protection.”
She looks away from the video.
“They told me that I was confused, hysterical even.”
I clench my jaw.
The video ends with her father sobbing, promising the money back again and again. Dante then shuts off the screen with a click of a button.
I blink, recalling plenty of times earlier when she baited us and manipulated situations. She acted strong here majority of the time, but only because she was used to having to do that.
I feel nauseated at the thought of someone doing that to their own child. Someone they are supposed to protect. Not whatever fucked up idea he has in his head about what love is supposed to be.
Dante breaks the silence again. “When Viktor told him we had the report, that it could be unsealed, that we would make it go public…” He shrugs once. “That’s when he gave us everything.”
She laughs then.
“Funny how fast he listens when it’s his perfect life on the line.”
He then stands and steps away from her, turning to face me instead. “I don’t think she understands what I’m saying.”
I do.
He’s saying that she’s free to go.
But free to what end?
She was being sent back with a man that had power, money, and enough influence to bury the truth once already. She might be above eighteen, but that doesn’t erase what he is to her.
A monster.
Or what he’s done.
Assault.
I blink and force the next few words out. “What happens to her deadbeat father?”
Dante shrugs. “Not my problem or yours. She’s an adult.”
He walks around me and opens the door all the way.
“Once she’s released, what happens is her choice.” He pauses. “Funnily enough, one of Armani’s conditions for telling us the money’s location was that she had to be returned directly to him following his confession.”
An uneasy laugh slips out of me. “You can’t be serious.”
He crosses his arms, unbothered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“You’re handing her back to him, after everything she just told you.”
Dante doesn’t flinch. “We’re handing her back to her parent.”
“That’s not a parent,” I snap, heat finally breaking through. “That’s a fucking predator.”
His eyes narrow, but his tone stays calm. “Careful.”
I laugh bitterly under my breath. “Careful of what? Offending him? Or offending you?”
“He always wins,” she says softly. “That’s how it’s always worked.”
Dante exhales through his nose. “This isn’t a moral debate. We got what we came for. The job’s done.”
“At her expense,” I shoot back.
He takes a step toward me, lowering his voice. “Don’t pretend this is about justice. You only want to play hero to make up for you not being there to protect your dead girlfriend.”
I do want to protect her. Why is that so wrong?
I drag a hand down my face, pacing a step away before stopping myself. “So that’s it? We just pretend the report doesn’t exist? We forget that any of this happened?”
Dante’s jaw flexes. “The report was only to be used as blackmail because it scared him. That’s all it needed to do. There was no other motive with it.”
I look at her again.
Her fingers are trembling now, just slightly. But she is still mentally checked out as she stares solely at the ground.
“She goes back,” I say slowly, “and he knows he got away with it, again.”
Dante doesn’t respond as I turn back to face him. He stands by the door, still watching me.
His eyes dart to her shaken figure on the mattress before finally speaking. “That’s not our problem.”
“You’re wrong,” I challenge. “It is our problem. Because we’re the ones standing on this information now and choosing to do nothing with it.”
Dante studies me for a long moment before placing his hand on the gun that is holstered against his hip.
“Choose your next words carefully,” he mutters.
I don’t choose any.
Instead, my hand slides beneath the hem of my hoodie, fingers closing around the grip pressed into the small of my back.
The words shakily slip from my mouth. “Cut her loose.”
His body makes no obvious movement, and Chloe doesn’t move an inch.
But then he humorlessly laughs.
His gaze drops to the arm I have linked around my back. His jaw flexes, teeth grinding once as his fingers hover above his holster.
“You’re out of line,” he hisses.
“Maybe,” I reply. “But I’m not wrong.”
It takes him less than half a second to come at me.
So fast my mind lags behind my body.
His hand goes for his gun and I surge forward at the same time, crashing into him before either of us can draw our weapon. My shoulder slams into his chest, the impact rattling my bones as we hit the wall behind him hard enough to make it shudder.
Dante swears and drives his knuckles into my ribs, sending pain through my side as it steals the air from my lungs.
He twists immediately, reaching for his weapon again. I don’t give him the chance. My fist cracks into his cheekbone, skin splitting across my knuckles as his head snaps to the side. He staggers back a step, then another, but it isn’t enough. He recovers quickly, already going for his gun again.
I think my punch is strong enough to disable him temporarily, but he proves me wrong instantly.
He lunges back in, hand gripping my jacket. He then pulls me forward abruptly and drives his knee up into my stomach, causing spit to fly from my mouth and on to the floor from the force of the hit.
And he doesn’t give me any time to recover as his fist comes down hard against the back of my head, sending me stumbling sideways.
This fucker doesn’t give me a single chance in hell to win against him.
“You should’ve dropped it,” he growls, swinging for my jaw.
I lean away just enough for the punch to graze my cheek instead of shatter it. I surge forward, slamming my shoulder into his midsection again, driving him back into the concrete floor.
He twists, trying to bring his gun up from his side, which he succeeds in doing.
I grab his wrist with both hands and slam it into the hard surface twice before the gun slips, clattering alongside us. He snarls, pulling his head back and slamming it into mine, the thud echoing in my ears.
Dizziness takes over and the iron of blood filters its way onto my taste buds.
He shoves me back, giving him enough time to get up from the floor and more than enough time to grab the gun.
Dante lifts his hand, angling it directly toward my chest.
As blurry as it is, I see her move from the corner of my eye.
She stands up from behind him the best she can before grabbing and lifting the wooden chair, screaming as she launches it into his back.
Wood shards sling off of the chair as it slams into his shoulders. The weight of the strike causes his gunshot to soar past me and into the wall. Dante turns toward her, swinging the back of his hand into her cheek hard enough to thrust her to the floor in one swift motion.
She gives me the second I need to gain momentum back.
My hand is already at my back, ripping my gun free as I stumble forward. Dante is definitely thrown off, but turns away from the direction of Chloe and back to me. His eyes are wild and filled with what seems to be confusion. That doesn’t stop him from raising his weapon to my chest again.
But I fire first.
The recoil slams up my arm, unbalancing my shoulder. Dante jerks harshly as the bullet hits him directly in the center of his chest.
The force knocks him backward, his gun slipping from his fingers as he topples to the floor behind him.
He gasps and I know it won’t be long before he bleeds out.
This is the only time I can get her out of here.
This is our moment.
Dante grabs at the hoodie’s thick material on his chest, his mouth opening like he wants to say something. But nothing comes out as his eyes lock on mine. He seems to be in shock.
I stand there, chest heaving, gun still raised as Chloe pushes herself up off of the floor into a sitting position.
“A little help?” Her voice comes out rough as she puts her wrist and ankles out in front of her.
I cross the room in two strides before leaning down to cut her zip ties off of her with the small blade I have in my pocket. With that, I grab her hand, pulling her up from the floor and with me towards the doorway.
“Run,” I say.
That is all I have to say for her to follow my lead.
We run through the cold of the warehouse, with luckily no pursuit from behind us. Her hand is tight in mine, nails digging into my skin like she is afraid we’ll somehow be disconnected.
We finally come to the exit of the building as she pulls back, slowing me down. Her eyes meet mine. “What are you doing? We have to go.”
You would think I’m diagnosed with asthma with the way I am huffing and puffing as I get that sentence out.
“You shot him,” she says quietly.
“Yeah,” I reply, mostly out of breath. “I did.”
Her gaze drops briefly to the blood smeared across my knuckles, then back up to my face. Something flashes through her eyes, but I can’t quite figure out what emotion it is.
She shakes her head. “They won’t forgive this.”
My eyes lock on her green ones. “I know.”
“They’ll come for you.” She glances down at my lips.
And I can’t avoid looking at hers. “I know.”
Her gaze lingers on my mouth again, but longer this time.
She lifts her hand slowly, pressing her palm against my chest, right over my heart before sliding it up onto my shoulder as she leans forward onto her tiptoes. “Let me see you. The real you.”
I hesitate, but it doesn’t last long. In seconds, I’m pulling my mask up and over my face, dropping it to the ground as soon as it’s off fully.
She searches my face for what feels like forever.
I had just revealed myself to her entirely.
She forms a small smile and slowly rises onto her toes just enough that her breath caresses my lips. I feel her hesitation then, just with that small pause.
She probably feels the same as I do.
We don’t know one another. Yet, I’m saving her.
She doesn’t know me, but she trusts me with this.
I don’t really know her, but I can feel the hurt behind her eyes.
My eyes flutter shut on instinct as she inches forward a bit more.
Something presses into the muscle on the side of my neck, followed by an intense burning sensation.
I stumble a few steps back as my eyes widen in confusion. “What-”
My legs begin to tingle and start to wobble from underneath me. Not seconds pass by when I tumble into the floor, barely able to place my palms on the ground in time to catch myself.
The room spins violently as I try to lift my arm, to reach for her, for anything. But my muscles ignore me completely.
She places a hand on each cheek of my face and slowly eases me to the ground. She’s becoming more blurry over time.
My vision is fuzzy and any light that sneaks through the warehouse starts to fade out.
Chloe’s face hovers above mine. Her head tilts to the side with no specific emotion shown. “I’m sorry.”
What is she sorry for? What the fuck is going on?
My tongue is useless and won’t allow me to question what she means.
I try to hold onto the anger, the confusion and the betrayal.
I keep seeing the same image of Dante lying dead in the room behind us.
Instead, the shadows reach over my sight, clouding it entirely.
The last thing I feel is a light caress of my cheek before I succumb to the drug entirely.