41. Chapter 41
The stillness of the forest is shattered by the crack of gunfire. I jolt upright, adrenaline flooding my veins even before my brain registers the danger. Morello is already in motion, his hand on his holster, his eyes scanning for the threat.
”To the cellar, now!” His voice is tight, urgent.
I don”t hesitate, grabbing Yara”s hand and pulling her from the table. My only thought is getting her to safety.
We race for the cellar door as another shot splits the quiet morning air, closer this time.
Yara, startled, lets out a small cry, her fingers digging into mine.
”It”s okay, I”ve got you,” I say, my voice amazingly steady despite the jackhammering of my heart.
We reach the cellar and I usher Yara inside.
I take her face in my hands, looking into her wide, frightened eyes. ”Stay here, no matter what you hear. I”ll come back for you, I promise.”
I secure the door, shutting out the light.
In the distance, I hear Morello”s shouted commands mingling with the rap of gunfire.
I say a silent prayer he”ll be okay and make my way upstairs, gripping the heavy iron fireplace poker.
If Morello needs me, I”ll be there.
I”ll do anything to protect my daughter, and the man who”s kept us safe and freed us from Gerald.
I creep up the cellar stairs, the poker clenched in my sweaty palm.
My ears strain for any indication of how the confrontation outside is unfolding.
More shots ring out, closer and more rapid now. I freeze, willing my pounding heart to steady.
Was that a cry of pain? Morello”s? Luchenko or one of his men? I can”t tell.
Cautiously, I crack open the cellar door.
Morning light streams in, dust dancing incongruously in the sunbeams.
I slide through the opening, poker at the ready.
As I enter the kitchen, a figure suddenly fills the window, barreling toward the back door.
Morello.
He crashes through, slamming the door behind him. His shirt is torn, and his face smudged with dirt and blood. But his eyes are alert, flickering to me and then scanning the room for threats.
”We”ve got to move,” he says tersely. ”Luchenko”s men flanked me. He”ll be coming.”
On cue, the front door splinters open.
Luchenko strides through, ruthless and scarred face set in a mask of cold rage.
He levels his gun at Morello.
”You just had to make this difficult,” he hisses. ”I tried to end it cleanly.”
Morello raises his hands, shifting to place his body between me and the gun.
”It doesn”t have to go down like this,” he says evenly. ”We can talk.”
Luchenko lets out a sharp laugh. ”The time for talking is done.” His finger tightens on the trigger.
I react on pure instinct, adrenaline surging through me.
With a guttural cry, I charge forward, swinging the poker with all my strength.
It connects with Luchenko”s wrist with a sickening crack.
His shot goes wild, the gun falling from his grasp.
Before he can recover, I swing again, striking the side of his head.
He collapses heavily.
Morello blinks at me in shock. ”Remind me not to make you angry,” he says, giving me a wry, relieved grin.
Morello moves quickly, securing Luchenko”s hands behind his back with a zip tie.
Luchenko lets out a low groan, starting to stir back to consciousness.
I stand over him, the poker still gripped tightly in my hands. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me shaky and lightheaded.
Morello puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. ”It”s okay. You can let go now.”
I release a long breath, setting the poker down.
My hands tremble.
I acted on pure instinct to protect Morello.
But seeing Luchenko lying there, knowing I”m capable of that violence, leaves me deeply unsettled.
Morello seems to sense my distress.
”You did what you had to do,” he says gently. ”It”s not in your nature to hurt without reason. Don”t doubt yourself.”
I nod, though his words only partially reassure me.
I know he”s right—I”d had no choice.
But it doesn”t change the fact that I nearly killed a man today.
The biological father of my child.
”I should check on Yara,” I say, needing to see my daughter safe. Needing that reminder of why I had fought so hard.
Morello inclines his head in understanding. ”I”ll keep watch on our friend here until back-up arrives.”
As I descend into the cellar, Yara flies into my arms. ”Mama! Are you okay?”
I hold her tight, stroking her hair. ”I”m okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay now.”
And saying those words to her, feeling the warmth and weight of her in my arms, I start to believe them.
What matters isn”t how close I”d come to the edge today.
It”s that my daughter is safe. We are free.
I nod slowly as I try to process everything that had just happened.
The violence, the fear, the desperation—it all feels surreal now in the dim quiet of the cellar.
Yara looks up at me, her eyes wide. ”Is the bad man gone? Mr. Luchenko?”
”He”s not going to hurt us anymore,” I say, smoothing back her hair.
I don”t want to frighten her with the details.
”The police are coming to take him away.”
”Good,” she says fiercely, and I have to smile at her courage. ”That”s where the bad guys belong. In the slammer!”
My brave girl.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I speak again. ”Yara, I need you to stay here a little longer while I go help Morello. Can you do that for me?”
She bites her lip but nods.
”That”s my girl.” I press a kiss to her forehead. ”I”ll come get you soon. Everything will be okay now.”
Leaving her there, even knowing she”s safe, tears at my heart.
But Morello needs me.
I climb the cellar steps slowly, emerging into the morning light.
Morello has bound Luchenko”s hands and feet.
The man lies motionless, blood matting his elegant hair.
I look away quickly.
”Backup”s on the way,” Morello says.
His voice is steady, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the bruise darkening on his temple.
”Are you alright?” I ask softly.
He nods. ”I”ve had worse.”
But his eyes tell a different story, haunted and weary.
On impulse, I reach out and take his hand in mine.
Offering a small measure of comfort, connection.
His fingers curl around mine. We stand in silence then, two souls marked by the day”s violence but bound now by so much more.
Together, we wait for the sound of sirens in the distance.
The wail of sirens grows louder as several police cars pull up the long driveway, their lights flashing brightly.
Morello gives my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to confer with the officers now spilling out of the vehicles.
I hang back, suddenly feeling unsure and exposed.
My eyes fall on Luchenko again, taking in the rise and fall of his chest as he lies unconscious.
Just looking at him makes my stomach turn, memories of our shared past and his torment flooding my mind.
But seeing him defeated also stirs a sense of grim satisfaction.
I”ve finally fought back.
Morello guides the officers as they haul Luchenko to his feet and lead him to one of the waiting cars.
He casts his eyes over his shoulder, meeting my gaze with a look of pure venom that makes me flinch.
But then he”s gone, disappearing into the back of the police car.
I let out a breath I didn”t know I”d been holding.
It”s over.
My knees nearly buckle in relief.
Morello is suddenly at my side, his hand hovering just over the small of my back.
”Let”s go get Yara,” he says gently.
I retrieve my daughter from the cellar, holding her close as we walk outside.
My heart swells as I watch the police cars disappear down the driveway, carrying Luchenko away for good.
He may have been able to avoid justice up until now, but with an ironclad international case against him, this is going to be a near-impossible situation for him to squirm out of.
Morello wraps his arm around both of us. ”It”s a new beginning,” he murmurs.
I lean into him, feeling Yara do the same on my other side. A new beginning for the three of us. Together.