36. Riley
Maddoc putsDante on speaker each time he manages to reach out to us, and I crave those small moments of connections like air. But this time, I’m frozen with fear from the moment we hear Austin’s voice cut Dante’s whispered report off until the sounds of fighting turn to… torture.
“No,” I whisper, my heart in my throat and my stomach churning to acid as my brain tries to feed me a dozen different horrifying scenarios to go along with Austin’s words and the ragged breathing and harsh grunts he pulls out of Dante.
I only realize I’ve got a death grip on Logan’s arm when he covers my hand with his. It’s the only movement any of us make, all of our attention locked onto Maddoc’s phone.
Then the connection cuts off.
Maddoc slams his fist down. “Fuck.”
“We have to get him out of there,” I gasp, panic rising in my chest. “We can’t let him—”
“We won’t,” Maddoc says, yanking open one of the many drawers they’ve got around the house that they use as a weapons stash. He starts arming himself, handing over a few of the guns to Logan as he speaks. “We’re going in now. We’re gonna get him the fuck out. Fuck the plan. Fuck the long game. We’re not letting McKenna kill Dante.”
He looks up, the drawer empty, and Logan nods, holding Maddoc’s gaze as silent resolve passes between them. Then they burst into action.
Maddoc snatches his phone back up and starts calling in reinforcements, and Logan latches onto my arm, pulling me with him as he heads to the main armory.
“I need to grab more equipment,” he mutters, moving like a man possessed.
“I’m coming too,” I blurt, racing to keep up with his long strides. “You know I can be an asset, Logan. You’ve taught me well. I shot at least one of the mercenaries West Point hired when we first tangled with them. I wounded him! And now I know way more about weapons and fighting than I did then!”
We reach the armory, and when he stops to unlock the door, I crash into his back.
He turns and catches me when I stumble.
“I won’t be a liability, Logan. I am not staying behind while Dante is in danger! I can’t.”
I feel sick, my throat closing up as the sounds Dante made while Austin tortured him reverberate through my mind.
Logan pulls me close and kisses me hard, swallowing my ragged, gasping breaths. Then he cuts me. Just a small one on my palm. I didn’t even realize he had a knife.
No, he always has weapons on him. But I didn’t realize he pulled it.
The pain centers me, pulling my panic in and giving it a focal point.
He finally releases my mouth, keeping a firm grip on the back of my head. I squeeze my hand closed around the small cut, my breath evening out as I anchor myself in his pale gaze.
“I know,” he finally says. “You’re coming with us.”
I suck in a slow breath, then let it out. “Thank you.”
I hope he knows I don’t just mean for saying yes, for not even questioning that of course I’ll be coming along. But also for how well he knows me.
I follow him into the armory, clenching my hand around the bright spot of pain again. I was spiraling, and he knew exactly what I needed.
“Strap this to your thigh,” he says, handing me a leather holster and then, once I’ve done it, a sleek gun to slip inside it. He quickly arms me with two more guns, a knife, and a garrote, then once he’s added a handful of additional weapons to his own arsenal and loaded two bags with extra firepower for the people Maddoc’s called in to meet us there, he fits a bullet proof vest on me.
“Was this…”
“Was it what?” he asks when I pause, stopping mid-zip.
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
He gets the tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows that means he doesn’t like not knowing, and finishes zipping me up before turning me back to the door and ushering me out.
“Tell me,” he says as we lock up.
I sigh. Of course he won’t let it go, and it’s stupid, and matters not at all right now.
But of course I tell him anyway. “I was just wondering if this was originally Sienna’s. It’s obviously too small for any of you.”
For the first time since Dante’s call, Logan’s lips twitch in that familiar, tiny smile I love so much.
“No,” he says as we head to the foyer to meet Maddoc. “Maddoc had it made just for you.”
“I what?” Maddoc asks as Logan tosses him one of the weapons bags.
His phone rings almost immediately, and I brush off his curiosity, letting him know that it’s not important as he answers the call.
It is important. It’s everything. But right now, getting to Dante is all that matters.
Maddoc slips into the passenger seat of the sleek little Audi that Logan prefers, reviewing a couple quick details with whoever is on the phone. I have no idea if it’s one of the few Reapers who’ve been trusted this whole time with the secret that he’s still alive, or if word had already spread throughout the organization since Maddoc undoubtedly called in everybody, but either way, I trust him to do what’s best, what’s necessary, to get Dante out alive. If we lose out on the element of surprise when Maddoc shows up alive and in the flesh, we’ll more than make up for it by sheer numbers and fury.
When he ends the call, we’re already on the road with Logan pushing the speedometer to the limit.
He glances over. “Was Isaac able to confirm Dante’s location?”
“No,” Maddoc bites out, his jaw tight. Then, his control snaps and he punches the dashboard hard enough to crack it. “Why couldn’t that fucking thing you gave him include a transmitter?”
It’s not a real question, and Logan doesn’t take offense. “We know he was taken at McKenna’s house. Has the plan changed, or are we all converging there?”
“Nothing’s changed.” Maddoc clenches his fist, the knuckles bloody and the cauterized scar at the base of his missing pinky standing out in stark relief.
“We have no reason to think they would have moved him,” Logan says, his eyes flicking toward a landmark that I recognize as we roar past it. We’ve just crossed over into West Point’s territory.
“You mean, we’re fucking hoping they didn’t.” Maddoc scrubs a hand down his face. “We should have had people tracking that shit.”
But we all know that wasn’t possible. If we could have gotten our people that deeply inside West Point’s territory, Dante never would have had to put on this act in the first place.
None of us speak for the rest of the ride, and my terror over what’s happening to Dante right now starts to make me feel sick.
Or maybe it’s the knowledge that there’s a good chance I could die. A good chance we all could.
I’m in the back seat, and I take a minute to look at the strong jawlines and sharp profiles of two of the three men I’m so fucking in love with, then I close my eyes, taking a couple of long, deep breaths.
Logan is racing us toward hell on earth, and we could all die, but I don’t want to, so I need to be as calm as fucking possible. And if we die anyway, I… don’t care.
My eyes fly open, the knowledge hitting me like a freight train. I don’t care if I die. Not for this. I don’t have a death wish, and yeah, I’d feel like shit for leaving Chloe behind even though I know the Reapers would take care of her, but everyone fucking dies, and I already made the choice once before to sacrifice myself for these men. It’s what love is, and I love them with every fucking cell in my body, every breath, every beat of my heart, every dark shadow and bright hope in my soul. I’m theirs, and I would walk into hell for them.
The certainty settles around me like a coat of armor, and when we rendezvous with all the Reapers who came to help get Dante out, it keeps me calm as we go over the plan.
At least, it does until I realize one crucial detail.
“No,” I rasp, when I realize that the whole point of the way they’re dividing up to go in from various points as we attack the house is to draw fire and provide a distraction while Maddoc goes inside.
JustMaddoc.
“We’re not splitting up,” I insist, my voice hard. “We can’t.”
It’s one thing to walk through hell for my men. I just made my peace with that.
But it’s another thing entirely to ask me to watch Maddoc go there without any backup.
He takes my hand and kisses my palm, his eyes burning into mine. “You’re brave as fuck and more than capable of helping to save him, butterfly. But there’s no fucking way I’m letting you go in to try to get Dante out. It’s not happening, and we don’t have time for this. I’m going. Alone.”
I can’t agree. It will fucking kill me. But I have to, because I see the same all-consuming love that hit me in the car staring right back at me from his eyes, and I get it. I hate it, but I get it.
“Fine,” I mutter, biting my tongue from saying anything else.
I will not remind him that I love him right now. He already fucking knows, and saying it would be like saying goodbye.
I refuse to do that
Besides, like he just said, we’re out of time. We have to do this right the fuck now, before we lose the element of surprise.
We have to move before they do anything to Dante that we won’t be able to save him from.