Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty Eight
Zayden
Apiercing scream wakes me up. I’m on my feet and out the bedroom door in less than two seconds, grabbing the knife on my bedside table as I go. In the hallway, I run into a disheveled-looking Griggs, who appears to be in a similar fight-or-flight state.
“What the fuck was that?” Ronan asks, stepping out of his room as my angel emerges from ours.
“Vincent? What’s going on?” Skyla asks as a few of her other guys pile out of the room.
Liam pokes his head into a room a few doors down. His body goes rigid, and he runs to my boys’ room.
“The kids are gone!”
“WHAT?” I snarl as another ear-piercing scream rings from outside, followed by the sound of my boys shouting.
Chills cover my body, and I’m leaping down the stairs, taking the entire flight in three steps before tearing through the living room. I barely stop to slip on shoes, then my feet are ripping through the frozen ground.
The snow is falling fast, practically blinding me, but it’s not enough to stop me seeing what’s in front of me.
A man in a long black trench coat is standing just under the glow of the back porch light, a crowbar at his feet and little Seraphina wrapped up in one of his arms, held by her throat with a gun to her head.
My gaze flies around us to see Ryder holding his stomach, groaning, and Aries unconscious on the ground, a gash above his eyebrow. A rage without end fills me as I move closer to the figure, freezing in place as his eyes meet mine.
No.
There’s no way.
No fucking way.
Desmond motherfucking Volkov.
How? How did this motherfucker survive? The house blew the fuck up and took out two neighboring properties alongside it.
I’d recognize him anywhere, though. And now that I’m able to focus on him, I can see the extent of his injuries.
He looks like hell. His face is half charred, the flesh raw and red.
It’s as if he hasn’t yet sought medical care, instead letting vengeance fuel him.
Based on the look of his flesh, from his bare, burnt hands to his singed skull, I’d say an infection will get him in less than twenty-four hours.
If only I wasn’t about to gut him like a goddamn pig.
Twirling the knife in my hand, I speak calmly and coolly as my eyes move to my boys once more. My steps are calm and even, though I feel nothing of the sort.
“Volkov, I must say, I’ve seen you look better.”
An evil grin—at least I think it’s a grin; it’s hard to tell with half his face burned off—is visible in the glow of the house lights.
“I must say, I’d have to agree, Graves.”
“It was stupid of you to come here. You realize that, yeah?” I ask as I inch my way closer and closer to the boys, keeping my eyes trained on Desmond’s gun.
I hear several footsteps crunching in the snow behind me, and I know that my brother’s behind me at least, with at least three more people closing in. But if I can hear them, then so can—
“That’s close enough! Anyone takes one more step and I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!” Desmond snarls.
I pause, and the others do the same. I’m about thirty yards from him. Definitely close enough to sink this knife into his neck but not close enough that my knife will land faster than he can pull the trigger.
“Daddy, help her. Please,” Ryder begs.
Christ.
Desmond seems to get a kick out of my son begging.
He smirks at him before turning to me. “Oh yeah, Daddy, please. Please come save the little brat. No doubt she’ll grow up to be a whore just like her mommy.
Five husbands? I’m sorry you weren’t raised with a better role model, sweetheart,” he says to Seraphina as a soft cry escapes her.
I don’t attempt to talk him down; I don’t ask him to let her or my boys go.
The more weakness I show, the more I plead, the worse the situation becomes for all.
When you’re in a moment between life and death, you maintain focus and reason.
You strike first, always, and if you don’t have the upper hand, you fake it until you do.
“How’d your brother fare?” I ask as I gesture towards his burns.
The sound of a door shutting upstairs in the house has his eyes swinging in that direction, and I take the opportunity to step another five feet or so closer. Any inch I can get will produce a more favorable outcome.
Desmond’s smile falls away, anger taking hold of him as he jerks Seraphina roughly, squeezing her throat until she’s sputtering. “He’s dead. Thanks for asking. You’ve officially wiped out all my siblings, Graves. I look forward to affording you the same treatment.”
“I only have one brother,” I bargain.
“Yes, I’m afraid an eye for an eye won’t quite do. Your slut of a wife will have to do as penance for my sweet Beatrice,” he says, his sister’s name like a brokenhearted prayer on his lips.
If he wasn’t an unhinged murderous fuck who’s been trying to slaughter me and my family, who’s now hurt my boys and is holding a little girl hostage, I might feel a sliver of remorse.
Killing Beatrice was truly an accident. His brother, not so much, and the death I’m now fantasizing for him…
that one definitely won’t be an accident.
My eyes move and stop on Dominic, who’s just behind Desmond. He’s crouched down in the bushes, motioning to Aries, who’s now conscious, and Ryder to stay quiet. He’ll never get to the boys in time, though, not before one of the three of them is shot. Or Seraphina. Or all of them.
Deciding I need to distract him, I take a step to the side, forcing Desmond to turn to face me, Seraphina still in his grasp, silent tears falling down her face.
“Do you want to know what happened that night? How she died?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond, but I can feel his attention on me as I continue walking until his back is completely to my boys. Dominic creeps closer, near silently snatching Aries off the ground and pulling him to safety before trying to get closer to Ryder.
“I was called for a hit on her boyfriend. I didn’t know who she was at the time; she was just another girlfriend. You know the deal.”
“I know the fucking deal. I called the hit myself, asshole. I specifically said him, not her. HIM!” Desmond snarls.
I nod. “Truly, it was a mistake. I took care of him, but she woke up, found me, tried to plunge a fucking metal comb into my neck. We grappled with it, and it ended up in her chest. I called a medic to the place, but—”
“She was already dead. Yes, I know,” he snaps.
I flick my gaze behind him. Dominic has Ryder in his arms now and is disappearing into the darkness once more.
“She said something before she died,” I say, piquing his curiosity.
Desmond frowns. “What did she say?”
My mind races with possibilities, outcomes and plan Bs for how to get myself and Seraphina out of this unharmed. We outnumber him clearly, but a bullet moves faster than a blade, and I don’t know what kind of shot, if any, anyone else has.
“This is all my brother’s fault.”
Desmond’s face contorts in shock for a moment, like he doesn’t fully process my words. Once he does, though, rage fills him.
A shadow moves behind him, and I’d recognize that slinky movement anywhere. He’s too far, though, so I make my move.
I raise my hand, gripping the cool metal of the knife’s handle before sending it sailing through the air. It spins beautifully, cutting through the heavy snow before sinking into his shoulder. But before the blade enters his skin, a loud pop sounds, and a sharp burning slices into me.
Looking down, I see a hole in my thigh before blood begins pouring out of it. Fuck. That shit hurts.
I look up to see Desmond point the gun at my head once more, a stolen breath escaping me as one of my boys calls out, “Close your eyes! It’s a scary part!”
Seraphina slams her eyes closed as Griggs draws up behind Desmond, gripping his jaw in one hand as he draws a blade across his neck. A spurt of crimson blood splatters the pure white snow before Desmond’s body collapses.
Vincent squats down beside the gargling body and turns his head to the side.
“Merry fucking Christmas.”