Chapter Twenty-One
T en minutes later, we’re all sitting around the table by the pool. Will’s poured drinks for everyone, though Zayn hasn’t touched his. His hands rest stiffly in his lap, eyes staring straight ahead like he’s trying to burn a hole into the horizon.
Rob slugs back some beer and tips the bottle at him. “So they give you a reason, or what?”
“Said it was for insubordination,” Zayn answers, his voice tight with anger. “But that’s bullshit. I’ve never disobeyed an order.”
“You got me my Mustang back,” I point out.
I don’t know if I mean it as a joke or not, but it doesn’t do much to diffuse the tension. Zayn just waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Like the other guys aren’t doing worse with evidence they’ve quote-unquote confiscated.” His voice drips with contempt. “Plus,” he adds, glancing at me. “No one told me not to return it to you, in so many words.”
“He’s got them there,” Will says drily. “But I don’t think that technicality’s going to reverse the decision, my friend.”
“I don’t want the job back,” Zayn says. “I’ll figure something out. It’s more like...” He casts a glance around at us. “Well, this has gotta be bad news for y’all, right?”
For a moment, everyone falls silent.
“Well, it’s not good news,” Rob says after a moment, but the humor in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I mean, hell, I’m not even sure it is news. We’ve always known Gisbourne and the sheriff were playing dirty, right? Them shitcanning Zayn just confirms it.”
What he doesn’t say hangs in the air. That they’re cutting off our lifelines, one by one. And it’s just a matter of time until they hit the center of the target.
“So... now what?” LJ asks, breaking the silence.
I look at Rob, waiting for his answer. He’s always been the one with the plan, the fearless leader we all turn to at a moment like this. But even he looks uncertain now, eyes dark with thought as he stares down at his beer.
“Security.” Will’s the one to speak up first. “We’ve gotta beef things up. I never got a chance to check on those cameras, but—”
“You and your damn toys,” LJ mutters. “New shit’s not the answer to everything, you know?”
“Oh, and you have a better plan, tough guy?” Will says. “You want me to just shift and firebomb the hell out of the sheriff’s office? Not all of us shoot first and ask questions later.”
“I’m not saying we—”
“LJ’s right,” Tuck interjects. “I mean, partially. Maybe a good offense is the best—”
“A good offense?” Will rolls his eyes. “Please. If we could just—”
And with that, the guys are off like a shot, voices overlapping as they each scramble to come up with a plan. Rob gets up and paces, Will’s muttering something about laying low, while LJ’s scoffing and talking about hitting where it hurts, and Tuck, ever the strategist, is already deep into some convoluted idea about cyber sabotage. The patio turns into a mess of chaotic thinking, everyone talking over each other, nobody getting anywhere.
I stand there, taking it all in, feeling that familiar pulse of energy rising in my chest, that urge to do something.
“Hey!” I shout, trying to make my voice heard above the din. “What can I do?”
No one answers. It’s like I’m invisible in the swirl of testosterone and problem-solving.
Only Zayn catches my eye and smiles ruefully, his voice cutting through the noise. “Don’t you have some kinda crazy cash now? If I were you, I’d be out of here. Take that nice care of yours and hit the road. Kinda thought that was your plan all along.”
The words hit me sideways. He says it so casually, like it’s a foregone conclusion that I’ll bail. Around us, everyone quiets.
Slowly, I shake my head. “No. No. I’m...staying.” I swallow. “Whatever that even means.”
I guess I needed to say it out loud. Guess everyone needed to hear it.
But Rob shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I’m so surprised my mouth literally falls open.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he says. “You’re too vulnerable. If they come for us—”
“Come for us?” I repeat. “Then they’re coming for me, too. I’m...I’m part of us.” I shake my head, because that sounds stupid out loud, and Will smirks a little. “You know what I mean,” I say, a bit softer. “If you’re here, then I want—”
“ I can’t let you get hurt again! ” Rob roars.
Silence. Barely the rustle of leaves in the wind.
“I can’t,” he says, after a long, long moment. “I just...I can’t, Maren.” He looks into my eyes. “I fucked up your life once, and I’m not willing to do it again. You don’t...you deserve better.” He glances at Zayn. “We’ll get you somewhere safe. Somewhere far away—”
“No!” I cry, and pull away from him when he reaches for me. “No. No.” My heart’s pounding in my ears, the world starting to fizz and spin around me.
“She needs to focus her powers,” Will says. “She won’t be able to figure it out alone, Rob.”
“She won’t figure out if she’s dead , either, Scarlet!” Rob shouts. “Jesus, how hard is it for you all to understand? She can’t stay. We never should’ve taken her back.”
“Rob, please.” My chin is trembling now, like I’m seconds away from being an embarrassing mess. From begging him.
He doesn’t look at me. Just at the other three. “There’s a reason it was only ever us,” he goes on. “Because we chose this life and knew what we were getting into. Took the risks ourselves. Only put our own asses on the line. And she—”
“I chose it too,” I interrupt.
Everyone stares at me.
“I chose it too,” I repeat. “I took a risk. A big one. Literally just today.”
I glance at Zayn. “No evictions this month.”
He frowns. “What do you...”
“The taxes are paid,” I say, to everyone. “I made sure of it.”
They stare at me, disbelief and confusion etched on their faces.
“You didn’t...” Tuck whispers.
“Your inheritance,” LJ says.
I nod.
Will, in spite of it all, breaks into a grin. “The little vigilante. So what, you just handed out cash?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling sheepish. “Basically.” My face feels hot. I still can’t meet Rob’s eyes. I explain as quickly as I can how I pulled it off: the Mustang, the ATMs, the address list.
“Enough.” It’s Rob, his pacing stopped and his voice commanding. He still won’t look at me. “I’m done with this discussion. Zayn, you can stay here. As long as you need. The rest of this shit...” He blows out a hard breath.
“Let me think about it.”
And with that, he stalks off.
Zayn looks around awkwardly, like we’re one big dysfunctional family and he’s just watched a particularly charged Thanksgiving argument.
But before he can respond, Will’s eyebrow shoots up, his lips twitching into a grin.
“Well, welcome to the clubhouse. Just hope you’re a deep sleeper.”
Zayn frowns. “Yeah? Why?”
Will’s grin widens, and he nods at me. “Bit of a screamer, that one.”
THE LIbrARY SMELLS like old paper and dust, a scent that settles in the back of my throat as I sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a mess of books. Tuck really went all out with his research; I’ve got everything from ancient spell books, their cracked leather covers barely hanging on, to ridiculous new-age paperbacks plastered with cosmic nebulas and vague promises about “unlocking the energy within.” It would almost be laughable if I weren’t sitting here trying to unlock some mystical energy myself.
I skim a page about channeling power through the palms, my fingers tracing the delicate sketches of hands with energy radiating from them like sunbeams. The key, apparently, is to tap into the dizziness, the strange swooning spells I’ve always had—only this time, instead of fighting it, I need to push the energy forward. Control it.
The books aren’t much help in explaining how to do that. It’s like trying to teach someone how to move a muscle they didn’t know existed.
I glance over at the line of withered plants Tuck brought me. Some are shriveled, others browned, all on their last legs of life. They look hopeless, but that’s the point. I don’t have any injured people to practice on, and I’m definitely not about to stab someone for the sake of honing my skills. So, plants it is.
I close my eyes and try to channel that strange tingling dizziness, the one that usually leaves me feeling weak. I let it build, swirling in my chest, and then I try to push it through my arms and into my hands. I press my palms against the first plant, a sad little fern, and focus.
Nothing happens.
I push harder, and for a moment, the energy feels like it’s crackling under my skin. Then, with a sudden release, the plant crumples entirely, every last leaf flattening under my hands. Well, that’s one way to kill a plant.
I sigh, wipe my palms on my jeans, and move to the next one. A small, dried-out daisy. Okay, Maren, focus. I close my eyes again, summon the energy, and press my hands gently against the stem. A single leaf twitches and perks up, almost imperceptibly. It’s not much, but it’s something.
And I need to do something.
The whole house has been tense since the confrontation at the pool, with only distant footsteps through the hallways and no one speaking to each other, and I can’t take it. Can’t sit still and can’t not do something.
Encouraged, I try again with the next plant, a little bonsai that looks more dead than alive. I focus harder, guiding the energy carefully, slowly. This time, the change is immediate. I feel the plant drink in the energy, its color returning, the leaves regaining their shape and standing tall again. I stare, awestruck, as life floods back into the bonsai.
Holy shit. I actually did it.
I sit back on my heels, breathless. The wave of exhaustion that hits afterward is something fierce, though. Healing really does take it out of me. I shove a few books out of the way, leaning back against the base of the couch, feeling my heartbeat settle.
Maybe I’ve done enough for one day. Both powers-wise and...everything-wise.
For whatever reason, my mind wanders upstairs—to my old room, the one I’ve avoided since I left. It’s just sitting there, untouched, waiting for me. Before I know it, I’m climbing the stairs, the familiar creaks of the old house echoing in my ears.
When I push the door open, the room is bathed in the hazy silver light of a summer evening. I can hear crickets faintly outside the small balcony. Everything is exactly how I left it—the bed still made, the little shelf lined with books I plucked up from around the rest of the house for my private collection...
I’m hit with a wave of emotion I wasn’t expecting. This room was mine.
Still is, maybe.
I step inside, shutting the door softly behind me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t have the urge to run, to be anywhere else or be doing any thing else.
I don’t want to leave. Not yet. Not ever.
I climb into bed, curling up in the soft blankets, and let the exhaustion take over. I’ve been running for so long—maybe it’s okay to rest for a while.
Just as I’m starting to drift off, there’s a knock at the door, soft but insistent. I blink awake, still groggy from exhaustion, my heart picking up its pace. “Can I come in?” The voice is low, familiar.
It’s Rob.
I hesitate for a second, my pulse thudding in my ears. “Yeah,” I manage to say, though my voice comes out quieter than I’d intended. I sit up slightly as the door creaks open and Rob steps in.
He glances around the room, taking it all in—the soft light filtering through the curtains, the bed I’m curled up in, like nothing’s changed. And even though his face is set with the weight of...whatever’s going on in that damn head of his, there’s still something disarmingly calm about him.
“You look right at home,” he says, his voice soft but tinged with something else, something deeper. His gaze lingers on me in the bed for a moment longer than I expect. “Like you never left.”
I swallow, still trying to slow my racing heart. “I feel... back at home,” I admit, almost surprised by how easy the words come out. I wasn’t sure I could still feel that way about anything, but here I am, in my old room, and it feels like a part of me that I’d forgotten.
Rob moves a little closer, his eyes catching the light, and for a moment, the rest of the world feels distant. The tension that usually hangs over him seems softer, just for now. I can’t help but notice how handsome he looks, despite everything. His worn work boots, the way his sleeves are rolled up just right, and that faint auburn stubble along his jaw—it all pulls at me, even when I’m this exhausted.
There’s a quiet understanding in the air between us. I don’t know what to say, and he doesn’t push me to speak. But something about him standing here, looking at me like that—it’s enough to keep my heart racing, despite the tiredness pulling at my limbs.
“Want company?” Rob says, just as I open my mouth for a question.
“Lie with me?”
He grins. “Thought you’d never ask, pretty lady.”
He takes a seat on the bed next to me and I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the animal warmth, though there’s plenty of space between us.
“This okay?” he asks.
“More than okay,” I reply. “If you get closer.”
He lies down, parallel to me, strokes the top of my forehead. My eyes close involuntarily, wanting to focus on just this—just the sensation of his touch.
“I don’t want you to leave, Maren,” comes his voice.
A lump springs up in my throat. I don’t say anything, just nod.
“I don’t ever want you to be far away from me, from any of us, again.” His words are deep but soft, rumbling. “But I don’t want to be so damn selfish anymore. I can’t.”
Instead of answering, I just pull him closer, pull our lips to meet.
Rob cups the back of my head in one large hand and deepens the kiss, and my hands slide up the back of his shirt, feeling his warmth beneath my fingers. He leans me back, pressing his body against mine, and we stay like that for a while, kissing deeply, until we’re both breathless.
“If you’re selfish, I’m selfish,” I say. “Because I can’t leave all of you. I can’t. I won’t.”
“I know you won’t.” Now Rob’s the one to close his eyes. “Goddamn. This would be easier if you still hated me.”
“Got pretty close to it earlier,” I retort. “When you ordered me to leave.”
“Can you blame me?” He opens them again, looks at me. “Really, Maren, I...” He trails off. “You really gave out all that money?”
I grin. “Damn right I did. All by myself, too.”
“Well, shit.” He laughs, a rich sound I can feel resonate against my own body. “Maren de Mornay, I think I’m in love with you.”
The words hang in the air, like everything’s on pause. I barely take in another breath, unsure if he knows that he said what he just said.
“You are?” I manage, at last.
Rob squints a little, like he’s giving it one last think. Then nods. “Oh, yeah. We all are. I mean, Tuck’s been a goner from day 1, but he’s always been hopeless that way. Scarlet, too, although he’d never cop to it, that kinky son of a bitch. And LJ—”
“He’ll never say it out loud,” I finish for him.
Rob cocks an eyebrow. “You might be surprised. ‘Cause he told me as much.”
“Really?”
“Yes ma’am. Just now, in fact. And told me that if I didn’t keep you here with us then I could go fuck myself six ways from Sunday.” Rob sighs. “And to be honest, that just didn’t sound as tempting as the alternative.”
I can’t hold back my smile. I’m grinning like an idiot, wrapping my arms around his neck, nuzzling into his skin.
“I love you too,” I murmur. “All four of you. Is that...” I pull back, like I’m actually processing the words for real. “Is that even possible?”
“Beats me,” Rob says. “But if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you, pretty lady. You’ve got a damn big heart.”
He traces a finger down my neck, the hollow of my throat, the front of my ribs.
“And you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, trailing his finger a little bit further. “Been dreaming about this since you got back. Been dreaming about you, period.”
“Yeah?” I breathe. “What do you dream about?”
“Oh, little bit of everything,” he says. “Everything and more.” His hand slides back up, then down to my waist, where he pulls at the edge of my T-shirt.
I can’t stop myself. “Show me, then.”
He lets out a low chuckle and reaches down, unbuttoning my pants. He yanks them off roughly and tosses them aside. I’m completely exposed beneath him, but instead of feeling vulnerable, I feel seen.
“Usually starts along these lines. But...damn,” he breathes. “Better than my imagination.”
I press my lips together. “Then what?”
Rob chuckles, pressing a kiss into my neck. “Honest? I don’t last much longer than that on my own. Even the memory of you gets me hard as a fuckin’ diamond, Maren.”
His words pull a wave of arousal rippling into the center of me. I grab his hand, desperate, and push him to touch me, stroke me.
“Down, girl. You’ve already got a head start on me,” he growls. But obliges, his fingers brushing long and slow into me.
“S-so what are you waiting for?” I barely manage the words, feeling myself go liquid around him, but he doesn’t need more than that.
Rob rocks to his knees, messes with his belt and buttons and shirt, and suddenly we’re both naked and he’s pressing up against me, hard and urgent.
“You’re perfect,” Rob murmurs, his lips against my ear and his fingertips edging my clit with the lightest, most torturous flutters. “Absolutely...fucking...perfect.”
I can’t hold back any longer. “Please,” I breathe. “Please, Rob.”
“Please what?”
“Please...ah!” He dips in deep and I gasp. “ Please fuck me before I come on your goddamn hand, ” I rush out.
“Well, since you said please.”
He looks into my eyes, searching, and then slowly, slowly, presses into me.
It’s almost too much. I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath, and rock against him, pulling him deeper, wanting every inch. My lids flutter open to see him above me, hair across his forehead, his muscles taut with every movement.
He pushes all the way inside, and I gasp again, my hands clutching his shoulders.
“You feel amazing,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “So fucking amazing.”
He quickens his pace, and I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “ Fuck ,” he groans.
It’s too much, hearing him talk in that ragged, raspy voice, seeing his fingers digging into the pillow at my head, feeling the heat of his breath and his body.
I don’t want to hold back, can’t hold back even if I fucking wanted to. With a pulsing shudder, I come, and feel a gush of liquid heat as Rob joins me.
Panting, he collapses, just to my side, and brushes a loose strand of hair from my forehead. Suddenly self-conscious, I purse my lips and try to make a joke.
“Was it good for you?”
He laughs. “Good? Keep that up and you’re gonna be the death of me, pretty lady. And it’ll be worth it.”