37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
SEBASTIAN
I storm down the stairs, pissed as hell that it’s come to this—Heath and some armed bastard at Noah’s door, like we didn’t have enough shit to deal with.
Logan’s right behind me, handing me one of two shotguns he must have procured from Noah’s parent’s room.
Logan hands me a handful of old shells, none of this going to stand up against two fucks determined to take us down.
“We’re not engaging, Logan. If they break in, we defend ourselves but I’m not starting a firefight if I don’t have to.”
Logan nods in agreement, both of us settling back into the living room.
It gives us enough of a vantage point without being in a direct line of sight.
I should have known, though, that they wouldn’t just wait nicely at the door and the fact that there’s no other way out of this goddamn house—even the windows only half the width or height as they are anywhere else—just makes this all worse.
The front door splits open, several blunt hits cracking the wood before Heath strolls in, casual as fuck, like he owns the place. His jacket’s open, his pistol tucked into his belt. He scans the open space, frowning when he doesn’t find what he needs. “Where’s Noah?”
“None of your fucking concern,” I snap, stepping forward, the shotgun steady across my chest. “Where’s your friend?”
Heath’s grin widens, his expression darkening.
“I’m surprised you guys didn’t catch on.
It was always the plan to kill Noah. He’s the reason we’re all in this mess.
Kurt would still have his parents if Noah had kept his motherfucking mouth shut.
Whatever happens to Kurt happens to him, but Noah’s gonna suffer. ”
The words hit me like a punch, and I get it—his friend’s not here to back him up; he’s upstairs, going for Noah while Heath plays distraction. I charge for the stairs, praying that we’re not too late.
“Stay put!” Logan barks at Heath behind me, but I don’t look back, my focus narrowing to the steps, to Noah. I hear Heath move, his footsteps scuffing, and then a shotgun blast cracks loud, Heath’s scream ripping through the air.
Out of the corner of my eye as I speed down the upstairs hallway, I can see that Heath is on the ground, screaming, blood pouring from his shoe. Logan’s got him handled. Now I just need to make sure Noah is safe.
I burst through Noah’s bedroom door, my heart slamming in my chest, the handgun heavy in my grip, and catch the guy Logan saw through the peephole climbing in through the window, his gun raised.
Noah’s bed is empty, my gaze frantically walking through the room to find him pressed back against the corner, his pistol outstretched, his hands steady.
Two shots crack loud, point-blank, and the guy drops, a heavy thud on the floor, blood pooling into the carpet. Noah groans, his hand flying to his ear, his other hand falling to his side still clutching the gun, and I rush over, pulling him into my chest as I discard the shotgun on the bed.
“Babe, are you okay?” Sometimes I forget how sharp Noah is because we never spend time on the training grounds together anymore.
“Climbing through my window is some bullshit,” he mutters against my chest, wincing as he presses harder on his ear. “Where’s Heath?”
I grin, relief cutting through the panic. “Downstairs. Seems Logan shot him in the foot.” Sirens wail in the distance, closing in, and Noah’s eyes flash, a deviant smile spreading across his lips.
“Help me down there. I’ve got some choice words before they take him in.” I steady him as he sways, his headache etched in the lines of his face, and we stumble down the stairs, my arm around his waist, his breath ragged but determined.
We hit the living room, and Heath’s there, sprawled on the floor, clutching his bloody foot, screaming curses while Logan looms over him, the shotgun still in hand.
Noah shakes me off, stepping forward, before leaning down over Heath.
“In no world was all this worth it, following my brother—well, cousin. You fucked everything up for what?” He glares down at Heath, searching his expression, and then his face shifts, a dark laugh breaking free.
“Oh my God. You’re in love with him. Did you think following his every order would have him reciprocating your feelings?
You’re a sorry excuse for a human,” he spits.
For a moment, I think that’s it and then I remember the gun still in Noah’s hand as he angles it just high enough, poised at Heath’s other foot.
It's a glorious sight, watching this man wail, both of his feet now wounded. The man will never walk the same again, the raw edge of Noah’s rage bleeding into me as police swarm into the hallway, surveying the scene, voices barking over the chaos.
Yannis and Smisson are among them, confusion written all over their faces. “What the fuck?” Yannis barks out. “What the fuck is all this?”
I have to suppress a laugh because in no world did they not know some version of this was going to happen.
Then again, looking the other way definitely helps keep them connecting the dots.
Noah just leans back against me, his strength waning.
“It’s what Kurt calls a fail-safe. It’s very easy to pin shit on people when they’re dead.
If you wait a little longer, Kurt might show up as well. ”
Smisson frowns, his head tilting. “Isn’t he your brother?”
Noah shakes his head before grimacing and resting further against me.
“He stopped being my brother when he decided his revenge was more important than my life.” I string an arm around his waist, keeping him upright and press a kiss to the top of his head, hoping he knows how perfect he is, how strong he is.
Then I speak up, explaining the situation. “There’s one guy upstairs who broke in through Noah’s window. Noah shot him in self-defense. Heath came through the front door without an invitation. All shots were made to keep him from killing Noah.”
Heath sputters out a laugh. “That’s fucking bullshit!” He groans, trying to reach down and hold at least one of his feet but he’s not flexible enough to do so. I’m really not sure how he saw this going.
Yannis stares at the pitiful heap for a few moments longer before meeting my gaze. “Any of you need medical attention? Noah?”
“Just a headache,” I mutter, my grip tightening on Noah.
“Hospital already checked him—Kurt fucked his hearing. He’s fine, just hurting.
” I gather him up in my arms just as his legs give out before carrying him to the couch.
The officers will clean up the mess as we try to figure out where we go from here.
Noah lets out a small whine before sighing, sinking into the pillows.
“Babe, you were absolutely perfect, you know that?”
He hums his response, a small grin cracking across his lips. “Yeah, I am. Please tell me this bullshit is over and that Declan is coming home.”
“Soon, babe. You just rest. We got everything else.” I told Declan I wouldn’t try to contact or locate him until he was gone for too long but if we wait any longer, they might actually start believing Declan was working with Kurt.
So, I make the call to bring Declan home. It’s time to start moving forward.