Chapter 38 Willow
WILLOW
My heart lurches in my chest as my grandmother’s remaining bodyguards shout to each other, all of them scrambling to figure out where the attack came from.
He made it. Jonah is here.
“What the fuck is going on?” Malice growls, staring up toward the top of the pit. It’s hard to see what’s going on above us, but I can hear footsteps and more shots as my grandmother’s hired men do their best to secure her and keep her safe.
“Jonah,” Ransom replies quickly, turning to face his brothers. “He came with us as backup. He snuck into the building after us. Come on, we need to get the fuck out of this pit before the guards regroup. Give me a boost.”
Victor and Malice share a look, processing all of that information in a heartbeat.
The trust the brothers all have for each other is evident in the way they spring into action immediately.
The two of them are bound just like we are, their wrists secured in front of their bodies with zip ties, and their bulletproof vests have been stripped off.
But they link hands, providing a platform for Ransom to step onto before heaving him toward the top of the pit.
He throws his body over the edge and hauls himself out, immediately grabbing a gun from the downed guard.
Crouching by the edge of the pit, he helps Jonah—wherever he is—lay down more cover fire for us as Malice boosts Vic out of the hole in the cement.
I’m next, and I emerge just in time to see Ransom almost get taken out by a shot from a guard who’s hiding behind a pillar on the other side of the room.
“Fuck! We’re sitting ducks out here!” he bellows, returning fire and glancing around wildly. “The table, Vic!”
Vic is already moving, flipping the nearby table onto its side and positioning it in front of us so that there’s some physical barrier between us and Olivia’s guards.
Vaguely, I’m aware of the sounds of a scuffle above us, and I realize that must be where Jonah is.
He went up to the second floor to get a better vantage, but it sounds like at least one of Olivia’s guards has found him.
With the table blocking us a bit, Vic reaches down into the pit and grabs Malice’s hands. He hauls his twin up and out, and the four of us crouch behind the table that’s barely big enough to cover all of us.
“How many?” Malice asks.
“Four down here. One already taken out, three with Olivia.” Ransom pops up and fires off another shot. “And at least one up top with Jonah.”
“That means no more cover from Jonah,” Malice mutters. “But at least he got us out of that fucking pit.”
“We need to—”
Whatever Vic was about to say breaks off in a curse as the three guards on the first floor rush us.
We scatter, Ransom using his entire body to shove me to one side as his brothers break the other way, darting into the shadowy darkness outside the perimeter of the floodlight.
I run toward an area of half-finished walls and exposed piping, with Ransom right behind me.
It’s awkward and difficult to sprint with my arms bound, and I almost trip and go down once before I catch my footing again.
We end up in what will probably be a storage room or something at some point, a small five by five space with only two walls completed.
Pushing me down in the corner of the room, Ransom turns to face the open doorway we just came through.
One of the guards followed us, and Ransom raises his gun to fire—but nothing happens.
With a furious roar, he throws himself forward, bum-rushing the guard and grappling for his gun as two shots pop off.
I’ve rarely seen Ransom fight the way Malice does, but he’s relentless now, fighting skillfully even with his wrists bound.
He throws elbows, headbutts that guard, and slams him into the wall.
They’re still fighting for control of the gun, and as the guard inches it sideways, trying to break Ransom’s grip and get a good angle for a shot, Ransom slams his foot into the side of the guard’s knee.
The man grunts and stumbles a little, and Ransom follows up with another headbutt, this time to the wind-pipe. He presses his advantage, twisting the gun out of the guard’s hand.
The guard recovers quickly—but it’s too late.
He moves to make another attack, but before he can, Ransom raises the weapon quickly and puts a single bullet between his eyes.
The man drops instantly, and Ransom stands over him, breathing hard and disheveled. Crouching beside the downed guard, he drops the gun and pats the man down quickly, finally finding what he’s after—a small butterfly knife.
He brings the gun and knife both over to me as the muffled sounds of fighting filter to us from elsewhere in the building. “Hold out your hands,” he pants.
I do it immediately, and he cuts the binds on my wrists, then hands the knife to me. I cut through the zip ties holding his wrists together, and he plucks the knife from my hand, replacing it with the gun.
“Stay here,” he tells me, glancing toward the doorway. “If anybody but one of us comes through that door, shoot them.”
“Where are you going?” I whisper, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm in my chest.
“I’m gonna go find my brothers and help them.”
“I’m coming with you!”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Then take the gun.”
I try to press it into his hands, but he won’t take it, stepping back. “Not a chance, angel. You need it.”
He leans in to press a hard kiss to my lips, and before I can even find my voice to protest again, he’s gone, slipping out the door into the rest of the building.
I wrap my fingers around the grip of the gun, my hands shaking.
I can still hear the distant sounds of a fight, so I know it isn’t over yet.
I’m glad Ransom is going to help Malice and Vic, who may still be bound at the wrists and unarmed, trying to take down or evade Olivia’s guards at a huge disadvantage.
But I hate being stuck in this room by myself.
It’s terrifying and unsettling, and even though I know he wanted to keep me safe, it feels wrong to be here.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my gaze darting toward the doorway.
The shouts in the distance increase in volume, growing more urgent—and it snaps something inside me. Pressing to my feet, I creep toward the door, the gun held tightly in both hands.
The floodlight has either been shot out or unplugged in the scuffle, because the space is darker now. I can still see, but every shadow seems to loom like a threat, and my heart thuds wildly against my ribs as I move toward the sound of the fight.
“Fuck, Ransom, watch out!”
That’s Malice’s voice, and it makes it clear that Ransom found them. There’s a scuffling sound, a deep grunt, and then Ransom curses.
“On your left!”
More noises, a heavy thud, and a gunshot. I pick up my pace, fear curling in my gut as Ransom calls out, “We’ve got this one. Malice, he’s trying to get Olivia out of here! Stop him!”
I turn a corner just in time to see one of Olivia’s bodyguards shove her behind him several yards away, moving her toward an exit.
Ransom and Victor are working together to take down her other man as Malice—whose wrists are still bound—hurls a bucket of tools toward the guard trying to evacuate her.
The guard ducks, and Malice moves, barreling toward him.
Then two things happen at once, so fast that I almost can’t track them both.
Victor wraps his zip tied wrists around the neck of the guard he and Ransom are fighting, yanking backward as Ransom darts in and jams his knife between the man’s ribs.
On the other side of the room, Malice hits Olivia’s remaining guard in the face with both fists just as the guard swings his gun to pistol whip Malice.
Both blows connect, but Malice’s is harder. The guard’s head snaps to the side, and he goes down… but as Malice reels from the blow to his head, Olivia darts forward. She has a gun of her own, and she jams it up beneath his chin, standing behind Malice to use him as a shield.
“Stop!” she shrieks, and there’s nothing even remotely like the calm, cool woman I’ve seen at fancy parties in her now. She looks disheveled, almost crazed, her expensive clothes torn and stained, and her hair pulled out of its neat updo. “I’ll kill him! I will!”
As if to prove her point, she half curls her finger on the trigger, making my heart leap in my throat. Malice stiffens, and Victor and Ransom, who are standing over the body of her other fallen guard, go still.
“That’s right.” She bares her teeth, breathing hard. “I’m gonna walk out of here, and if you try anything, if you move a single goddamned muscle, I’ll blow his brains out!”
She’s smaller than Malice, but with his hands bound and the gun where it is, she’s got an advantage that makes up for her size. She gives a tug, urging him to move, and he takes a few slow steps backward as she digs the barrel of the gun harder into his skin.
Ransom and Vic are watching Malice and my grandmother, clearly looking for any kind of opening, but Malice’s gaze darts around quickly—and lands on me in the shadows.
Our eyes lock, and surprise registers on his face for a split second. Then his gaze drops to the gun in my hand, and he gives the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod.
Fear floods me, making my entire body go cold all over.
I never emerged into the room, so no one knows I’m here. No one but Malice.
And he wants me to shoot Olivia.
Oh god.
I don’t have a clear shot. Her body is mostly obscured behind his, and if I miss by even an inch, I’ll end up putting a bullet in the man I love instead of my grandmother. How does he possibly think I can do this?
Unbidden, the words he spoke to me earlier filter through my mind.
Ja by umer za tebja.
I would die for you.
He doesn’t care if I hit him too, as long as I take Olivia out. He’s willing to die to make sure that happens. To protect me. To protect his brothers.