Chapter 39 - Kate #2
By pure miracle, I end up at the address. Paint peels from the numbers on the warehouse door. A squat building crouches between large sheds. Administration, probably. I kill the engine and sit there, trembling violently.
Then he emerges from the darkness, my hero in black. My biker shadow daddy. Warpaint on his face. Black eyes and mouth. Blue eyes cold and furious, instead of warm and beachy.
I can’t move. My knees want to buckle. I’ll be damned if I collapse before I get to him. He wrenches the door open, practically tearing it from the frame to get to me.
“Glitter Bomb.” His voice is hoarse and wrecked, but my name sounds like salvation.
We move together, and I crash into him. His arms crush me close, so tightly my ribs protest, but I don’t care. I’m with him. I bury my face into his chest, inhaling his calming woodsy scent. I’m alive, and he’s my anchor in blood and glass.
His hands are everywhere, my hair, back, face, cataloging me for damage since I’m splattered in blood. “Baby, are you hurt? I thought I lost you.”
“No,” I choke out. “It’s not mine.”
Rough palms clasp the sides of my face and lift my gaze to his. “Are you telling me you were the heroine in your own story?”
“Yeah.” My smile is equal parts grim and triumphant. “I thought I was the damsel. Turns out, I’m the dragon and saved myself. That’s a romantasy plot right there.” No one can take that away from me.
Ragged breaths and my pounding heart burn between us. Clarity hits like a bullet. I don’t need a protector from men who break and cage me. I’m enough. My own fucking hero.
“I don’t need a savior, August.” My voice comes out as powerful as my declaration. “I need you to stand beside me.”
His eyes reflect awe instead of guilt and regret.
“I never thought you were weak, Glitter Bomb. The costume, the color, the mask… you think that’s what makes you strong.
But it’s not. It’s you. I want the world to see the woman I see.
The one who doesn’t need armor for protection.
” His thumb brushes away caked blood, gutting me more than the carnage I left behind.
I huff out a raw laugh. “From here on out, we both agree to stop hiding. No more masks, secrets, or ghosts. Glitter and color are up for debate—preferably in the bedroom.”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of debate, baby,” August growls in my ear.
Our mouths collide, desperate, bruising, and throbbing with relief. His kiss tastes like regret and promise, the words he can’t spit out. I don’t blame him for what happened. I chose this.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him tightly to me, refusing to ever let go.
The moment shatters as gunfire erupts around us. August snaps to attention, pushing me behind a stack of crates, his body a shield for mine. Glancing up, he surveys the threat. Bullets ping on steel walls. Flashes of fire light on metal.
“Fuck. They sent reinforcements,” August growls.
To be expected. The Romans were never going to let me go easily.
My pulse thunders, but not out of fear. Out of fire, courage, and the recklessness pumping through my veins. I don’t care if we die. Thelma and Louise, here we come, riding off the cliff together.
Five black 4×4s tear into the lot, dark and deadly. More Roman goons sent to stamp out our flames. We’re trapped and can’t move. I left the guns in the goddamn wagon.
Doors slam, and men in dark suits pour out, carrying guns or rifles.
“Need a hand, lovebirds?” Harper’s voice slices through the chaos, sweet as poison.
She strides out, all leather and weapons, lips curled into a grin promising more blood.
“Playtime,” says the man with her, wearing the same dark makeup as August.
The man from the nightclub in the purple suit and top hat. Katar, Grayson called him.
An ambush erupts. Blades flash as Harper throws them into the throats or foreheads of Romans inching closer to corner us. Oh, God, she’s beautiful. Grace spun from danger and seduction. Burlesque in motion with each prowling sway of her hips. Except this tease doesn’t hide her teeth.
Her friend… killer… book boyfriend… whatever he is, he drops men with clean, merciless shots, every bullet or blade punctuated by the mad grin on his face. He crouches beside every bloody corpse and removes each blade, tasting blood. Hasn’t he ever heard of blood-borne diseases?
The two of them don’t miss a kill. Precise exterminators. Partners in crime. My Book Girlie will fill in the details later when it’s safe. Because Harper is not escaping answering.
“What’s going on here?” I shout over the racket.
“Reinforcements with cover fire,” August replies, half carrying, half dragging me to the wagon.
“We can’t leave Harper,” I protest as he shoves me into the passenger seat. “There’s Pluto men firing at Neptune men.” I recognize the tattoos they wear on their neck.
“Does she look like she needs a hand?” August slams his door shut and starts the engine. “They’ve got it covered.”
I plant my face against the window as he peels away, tires screeching, cracked asphalt kicking up behind us.
My best friend turns into a speck behind me.
Romans fall all around her as she, manic guy, and Pluto men dispose of Neptune soldiers.
August reaches across the console to grab my hand, never letting me go, and I know he’ll never leave my side again.
For the first time during this whole experience, I’m filled with the hope and confidence that we’ll actually survive this. Not alone, but together. He’s the grumpy shadow in my world, and I’m the sunshine in his. Together, we burn brighter than anything the Romans have ever seen.