Chapter 8
HARLOW
Snow whirls in ragged spirals through the busted-out windows.
The world around us quickly turns into an inferno.
The glow from my burning cabin crackles along the floorboards, painting Cipher’s skin in streaks of orange.
Flurries of ash mix with snow. I taste smoke, gunpowder, and the metallic tang of blood already drying at the corner of my mouth.
My palms are slick around the grip of Cipher’s spare Glock.
My heart hammers against my ribs and I take the thumping as both a warning and a promise that if we survive this, we get to have our do-over.
“Stay low,” Cipher breathes, crouched beside me behind the flipped kitchen table. His green eyes are all I can see through the gloom. There’s a burning wildness about him. I think this is the first time I’ve seen him in his true element.
Around us, the night explodes. A shotgun blast turns the table to splinters. Glass erupts from the window to our right. I fling myself flat, cheek pressed to the cold, splintery floorboard, but there’s nothing that can protect me from the shards of glass and wood.
I hear another crack of a shotgun going off. The scattered buckshot whines past my ear, close enough to carve a line of heat across my scalp.
Cipher moves before I can stop him. He rolls, comes up on one knee, firing clean and sure. One of the Vultures staggers and drops in front of us. I recognize the patch on his cut, blood soaking the black vulture emblem.
Two more shadows surge in, boots pounding, guns raised.
I press my back against the nearest wall and let instinct take over.
The first one slips past Cipher and lunges for me.
He’s a man with a greasy ponytail, craggy teeth and he reeks of whiskey.
Smoke spills into the area and it’s hard to see through the stinging pain.
I raise my weapon, and fire off a round at the moving shadow through the smoke, knowing Cipher is to my far right.
The stinky fucker drops like a rock. “Enjoy meeting the devil,” I mutter.
Tears stream down my face from the burning of the smoke.
I wipe at them and in doing so I open myself up like an idiot.
Another Vulture I didn’t hear come in the back door of the kitchen grabs a handful of my hair and yanks me off my feet.
Pain blooms along my scalp but I twist, slamming my knee between his legs, then drive the butt of my Glock into the bridge of his nose.
He howls, letting go, but another one of his buddies is already there.
He swings a fist, and white-hot stars burst behind my eyes as his knuckles catch my jaw.
I go down hard, the world spinning. My weapon skids out of my hand. The cold floor kisses my bare cheek and I swear I’ve never been punched so hard in my life.
Blood tastes like copper pennies as I spit onto the wood. I see Cipher, his face carved with terror and rage, taking out another man with a brutal efficiency that’s almost beautiful.
But there are too many.
I scramble, slip in a puddle of melted snow and blood. A Vulture grabs my arm, twisting until my shoulder screams. My gun lies on the floor by a chair leg. I lunge for it, fingers closing over the cool, steel handle.
A boot comes down on my hand. Pain radiates up my arm, but I don’t let go. I grab the gun with my other hand and fire off a shot, missing the man’s foot but making him jump back. Another set of arms wraps around my waist, hauling me up and that’s when I see it.
The black book Grudge had is now lying on the floor. I kick out and drop my entire weight, knocking my attacker off balance. He lets go and I dive for the book.
But the book is ripped from my grip the second I get my hands around it. I watch, helpless, as it’s hurled into the fire eating at my cabin. Flames swallow the secrets whole. Smoke and the scent of burning leather fill the air.
I’m so consumed with rage I don’t see the Vulture turn back to me until his steel arms lock around me and haul my ass off the floor where I’m sprawled.
Cipher roars and the sound cuts through the chaos like an animal filled with the need to taste blood.
I swivel my head in time to see him barrel into the man holding me, knocking him sideways, fists flying.
I fall to the floor. Never one to be the damsel in distress, I lay into another Vulture when he tries to come help his buddy beat me into submission.
This one is older and heavier, but surprisingly agile.
He locks his sausage fingers around the length of my hair, jerking me to my knees.
My head spins. I see Cipher’s face. Blood is smeared across his cheek, a bullet wound blooming red along his shoulder. His eyes find mine, frantic.
The president of the Vultures steps out from the shadows.
“Grudge, you fucker. You always let your men do your dirty work?”
His presence is a black hole, sucking all the air and warmth from the room. He levels a pistol at Cipher, then at me.
“Work smarter, not harder. Time to finish this shit show,” he growls, southern drawl curling around every syllable like poison. “Your man goes first. Then you, sweet thing.”
I fight to my feet, blood in my mouth, defiance burning where fear wants to settle. I glare at Grudge, at the men who think they can end me, end us. Not tonight. Not after everything I’ve clawed my way through.
Cipher’s eyes lock on mine, and in that second I know that if I die, it’ll be fighting beside him. If I live, it’ll be because we were stronger than the storm trying to break us apart.
“Let her go,” Cipher snarls, voice rough as dark smoke over jagged gravel, “and I might leave you with your life.”
Grudge just laughs. “Ain’t no one walkin’ away from this, Savage. Not you. And for sure not her.”
Grudge’s pawn tightens my hair around an unforgiving fist. My world narrows down to the sharp pain, the fury running through my blood, and the thud of my heart reaching for Cipher’s.
And then everything happens at once.
Cipher
Pain roars through my shoulder, hot and savage, each pulse of blood a fresh warning that I’m not immortal.
Smoke swirls thick, burning my lungs. Harlow is on her knees, the Vultures’ hands in her hair, a gun pressed to her temple.
Rage is a living beast inside me, drowning out the pain, the fear, the noise of gunfire.
All I can see is her defiance, fierce and alive.
Mine.
Grudge grins at me, teeth gleaming like a wolf. “Told you, Cipher. Shoulda stayed gone.”
I shift, flex my grip on my weapon. My left arm is heavy, slick with blood, but adrenaline keeps me moving.
I scan the room. Two Vultures are down, and there are three still standing.
Harlow’s face is set, and she appears defiant even with blood running down her chin. Pride wars with terror inside me.
“I shoulda killed you when I had the chance,” Grudge drawls. “You know what happens now, boy?”
I spit blood onto the floor. “You run outta luck.”
He cocks the gun, aiming for Harlow’s heart. “Say goodbye.”
Everything inside me goes silent. The world shrinks to one sharp point.
I launch myself at Grudge, throwing all my weight and rage into the tackle.
We go down in a tangle of limbs. His gun skitters across the floor.
He’s strong, heavier, but I fight dirty with a knee to his gut and an elbow to his jaw.
I cast around for anything I can use as a weapon.
A shot rings out close, earsplitting. I flinch, waiting for pain, but it’s not me. Harlow’s gun is up, hands steady. One of the Vultures behind me jerks and drops. The distraction is all I need.
I drive my fist into Grudge’s throat. He chokes, gags, but rallies fast. His fist slams into my wounded shoulder and fuck if I don’t see Jesus and the pearly gates for all of a few seconds.
White pain shatters my vision when I come back to my senses.
I howl through the pain as red fury colors my sight.
“Cipher!” Harlow screams.
I see the glint of steel just in time. Grudge’s knife flashes toward my gut. I catch his wrist, twist until bones grind, then slam my knee into his face. Blood splatters everywhere, a hot and sticky mess that makes me happy.
The room tilts, smoke and snow and chaos blurring at the edges.
Two more Vultures close in, guns raised. Harlow is a blur of motion in my peripheral as she dives for the fallen gun, comes up shooting. I roll, scoop up Grudge’s gun, and fire, dropping the man closest to her. The last one makes a grab for her, shoving her to the ground.
“No!” I lunge, body screaming in protest, and wrap an arm around the man’s throat. We crash to the floor, wrestling for control. My wounded shoulder is numb now, useless, but I clamp my legs around his chest and choke until he goes still.
Panting for air and bloodied, I stagger to my feet. Harlow is on her knees, hair wild, cheeks streaked with tears and soot. Grudge staggers upright, blood pouring from his nose.
“It’s over, Grudge,” I rasp, gun leveled at his beating heart. “Call off your boys. You’re done.”
He spits at my feet, hate in every line of his battered face. “I’ll die before I let a Savage take what’s mine.”
“So be it.”
He lunges. His last desperate move forces me to be the monster I have to be in order to protect the woman I love. I squeeze the trigger. The gun’s report is a thunderclap in the ruined cabin. Grudge crumples to the floor, a dark stain spreading across his chest.
For a moment, all I hear is the crackle of fire and the heaving rasp of my own breath.
I stagger to Harlow, falling to my knees beside her. Blood stains her hands, but I don't care. She reaches for me, sobs shuddering through her body, and I pull her close, burying my face in her hair.
“We made it,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Jesus, we fucking made it.”
She clings to me, trembling, but alive. Together.
I help her up, wrapping my good arm around her waist. The cabin is a smoldering ruin of glass and ash, bullet holes and memories. Grudge’s black book is nothing but ash, too. The snow outside glows orange, stained by firelight.
I manage a crooked grin, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion. “Sorry we ruined your inherited cabin, baby. I didn’t mean for this to turn bloody.”
She gives off a laugh that sounds a little broken, but it’s still beautiful to me. She rises to her toes and presses her lips to my cheek.
“It needed a new interior anyway. All those windows and that pretty polished wood? Overrated.”
The pain in my shoulder throbs, but I don’t let go of her. Not now. Not ever again.
She glances at the embers, regret flickering in her blue eyes. “Sorry about the book. We’re back at square one.”
I shake my head. “Not quite. The chemist and whatever’s on your phone is our lead now. Reaper and the crew will rebuild everything and besides, I scanned everything that’s in the book.”
Harlow’s eyes brighten. “Wait—there’s something else.
” She ducks back into the burned shell of the cabin, ignoring my protest, and comes back with a closed manila envelope.
“I don’t know what this is, but it was in my car when I came out of the Den earlier tonight.
Or last night. What time is it? Never mind.
I was so mad at you I forgot about this. ”
I take the envelope, flipping it over in my bloodied fingers. “What is it? Is it from the chemist?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think so, the writing on the front doesn’t match hers.” She flips it over and points to her name scribbled across the front.
Hope and exhaustion mingle in her gaze. “I don’t know what’s inside, but how about we find out together?”
For a second, I just stare. Through all the fire, blood, and loss I feel a surge of hope, in the palm of my hand.
I rip it open and we both stare at a white piece of paper.
“I can’t believe what I am seeing.”
I hand the paper to Harlow and when she looks back at me, there are tears in her eyes. “It’s the antidote formula. Layla cracked the code, she must have and found a way to get this to me. That means she has to be alive, right? This could save every person hooked on Euphoria.”
I lock my arms around her.
“She just saved a hell of a lot of people,” I say, voice thick. “You did too. Including me.”
She smiles, slow and certain, and in that smile I see a new beginning. One that is forged in fire, blood, and the kind of love that refuses to die, no matter how hard the world tries to snuff it out.
I pull her in, lips meeting hers in a kiss that is equal parts gratitude, apology, and a soul-deep promise. I taste ash, tears, and the fierce sweetness of victory. When I pull away, her eyes are shining.
“I love you,” I say, because I finally can. Because nothing will ever keep me from her again.
She grins, wild and bright. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go. You pull another stunt like you did last time and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Deal.”
We walk toward my SUV and I shoot off a text to the crew.
“Found Grudge. He’s dead. Bring backup.”
That sends off a flurry of messages but I turn my GPS on and leave them to figure out how to get here.
I pull Harlow closer. We are together and finally free of secrets, free of ghosts, and we are ready to write the rest of our story side by side. And as the sun rises over the ashes of our past, I know with every shattered, mended piece of my heart this is where we begin again.