Chapter 27 Elowyn
ELOWYN
“Who’s a good boy?” I coo as Varn bolts after the tennis ball, grass flying beneath his paws. He catches it mid-bounce and shakes his head like he’s won something. “That’s right! You’re my good boy!”
We’ve been at it for over an hour on the open stretch of the mansion grounds.
Throughout the entire time, my encouragement has been light and carefree.
I sound like my old self. Like the girl I was long before the lawsuit, my worry over Barclay and our finances pushed me out of the dog shelter, the place I loved most.
Leaving wasn’t a rational decision. I knew staying home and keeping an eye on Barclay wouldn’t change him. He never listened to anyone other than Duncan, and even he couldn’t save my brother from getting in trouble all the time.
And while losing Duncan left me wounded and aching, being away from the dogs was the final blow.
Now I have both Duncan and a dog.
My heart thumps with joy.
Life is perfect. Has been for the past two weeks since we got Varn. Since Duncan and I became dog parents in every sense of the word.
We’ve been cuddling him on movie nights, feeding him leftovers, and just falling in love with our pup.
Duncan doesn’t even mind that Varn sheds like crazy or that he’s addicted to fetch. In fact, he loves it. That pup will drop one of his many tennis balls at Duncan’s feet at any time of day, and my man is always up to play with him, throwing the ball as often as Varn wants to chase it.
It’s chilly out, but warmth spreads through me as I remember Duncan’s smiles. The ones Varn and I draw out of him. How he beams more and more often.
“Look at you,” I exclaim when Varn reaches me, ears perked, tipping his mouth up.
I scratch behind his ear—his favorite spot—then accept the ball and throw it again.
The sweet doggo he is, he takes off before the ball even lands. He’s a blur of gold sprinting through the grass, ears flapping like adorable little wings.
Duncan would’ve loved to see this.
If only he were home. But he’s not here. He’s on his way to a meeting with a client.
I sigh, remembering I was the one who pushed him to take the job.
When he got a call a week ago about a commission from a new client, his first response was absolutely not.
We’d just found each other again. Plus, thanks to his many investments, money isn’t an issue.
Technically, he didn’t need a new project.
He wanted one.
He never said so. Never had to.
His eyes told me as much. So I encouraged him to accept the commission.
Stupid, stupid Elowyn. You should’ve asked him to hold off, maybe until next month. Or next year.
Yeah, I should’ve. He’s only been gone for an hour, and ugh, I miss him.
Varn skids as he reaches the ball, paws digging into the grass. When he whips his head toward me, ball jammed between his teeth, his eyes shine.
Did you see that? Did you see what I did?
“Yes! You got it!”
My baby is just the cutest thing ever.
He’s also going to be a big brother soon. Maybe. Probably.
My hand goes to my belly, rubbing it over my wool sweater. I’ve done it plenty of times the past two days when Duncan isn’t looking.
Consciously, I’m aware that being two days late could mean nothing.
I hope it’s everything.
A contented sigh escapes me.
But my happiness is short-lived.
As Varn bounds back, thrilled as ever, a strange scent cuts through my bubble of warmth.
Smoke.
Alarm bells go off in my head. I turn around fast, almost stumbling on Varn in the process.
The scene unfolding before me stops my heart.
“Oh, no.” All the air is knocked out of my lungs. I go weak at the knees. “No.”
Our home. Our home is burning up.
Light flashes in the windows, the fire ripping through the mansion, the ivy, and the trees surrounding it, fast.
Too fast.
Way, way, too fast.
My stomach bottoms out as I understand what’s going on.
This wasn’t an accident.
It was arson.
Someone must’ve doused our home in gasoline and lit it up.
Mary and Herbert. They’re inside, and—oh God.
I don’t think. Don’t consider anything. Just sprint toward the house.
Varn’s dropped the ball, and now he runs at my side, barking. Poor thing, he must be freaking out. I wish I could comfort or hug him.
I will, later.
“Mary!” I shouldn’t get too close. Not when a crack echoes as part of the roof collapses, sending a plume of sparks into the air. “Herbert!”
Heat punches into me, my face stinging despite the autumn chill. Ash starts drifting down like black snowflakes all the way to the ground.
A helpless sob tears through my throat because, goddammit, I can’t call the fire department. My phone is in the kitchen.
I don’t want to leave them here alone either and run to get help.
Coming back to charred corpses while I was out there, looking for a phone…
“Herbert!” I try again, coughing as I near the back door of the house, where the flames aren’t as strong. I slow to a stop, shouting, “Mary!”
Neither of them answers, but Varn…he’s growling. Low and menacing.
I’ve never heard him like that. He’s such a sweet boy, not a mean bone in his body.
But here he is, pushing himself to my side, as if forming a wall between me and the world. Is he mad at the flames? Impossible. Especially since they’re in front of me.
I look down, reaching for that spot he loves behind his ear. I stop when I see his teeth bared and his gaze off to the side, not at our home.
The hair on his fur stands on end.
“Hi, Sis.”
Barclay.
That’s why Varn is losing it.
I cut my gaze up and find my brother standing there, on my grounds. My sanctuary.
First thing I notice is he’s not doing great. His long black coat barely conceals how much he’s struggling. He flinches as he edges toward me, probably because he skipped his pain meds so he could stay fully aware when he launched the attack on Duncan’s and my home.
Where are his nurses? Why didn’t they alert Duncan that Barclay is up to something? Or maybe he just told them he’s going out with his friends?
Speaking of his friends.
The MacQuoid cousins are here, both in black coats like my brother’s. Jayden, the one who ratted us out, has a blond messy, hair, his green eyes apologetic. Victor is to his left, a thinner, taller version of him.
In a few long steps, they catch up with Barclay, moving past him and head straight to me.
Fear nearly eats me alive, but I fight it.
This is our home.
Barclay, goddamn him, has no right to burn it down. He has no right to be here at all.
“Barclay, what the hell are you doing?” I shout over the crackling flames.
As they close the distance between them and me, Varn’s menacing growls echo louder.
Then Jayden’s hand is there, grazing my arm. At the last minute, my legs finally move, and I stumble back. Varn’s right beside me.
“Came to take what’s mine,” my brother huffs, wincing at the pain that slices through him.
“I’m not yours. Never was. Never will be.” My hands itch to shield my two loves, Varn and my could-be baby. I don’t reach for either of them, knowing Barclay would kill them just to ruin me. “I’m done with you. Leave, now.”
Varn’s growls turn into angry barks. He starts rounding me, snarling at Jayden and Victor. Both men are now flanking me from either side.
“You? Done with me?” Barclay cackles, the sound corrosive. “You’re not done with anything. Not until I say so. Knock her out, Victor.”
“You sure?” Jayden asks. I don’t see him. Where’d he go?
“Yeah, one punch won’t hurt.”
“Barclay.” I gape at him. “What are you doing?”
“If you say so.” Victor, a corporate lawyer, for crying out loud, raises his fist, his green eyes glimmering.
I back off, but a wall of a man stops me.
“Hold still.” Jayden’s meaty hands are on my shoulders, his voice gentle. Then—“Motherfucker, he bit me.”
Our dog.
My eyes go wide, urgency and panic thrumming through me.
Victor’s going to knock me out, not kill me. Barclay needs me, probably as leverage against Duncan.
But Varn, they don’t need him. They won’t hesitate to murder our pup.
No!
Victor’s blow is about to land.
It’s then that I scream at the top of my lungs, “Varn! Run! Run!”
A second later, pain slashes through me, and I’m out.