Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sabrina.
Parker was right—it’s absolute mayhem.
I keep to the walls, finding the small hidden panels that Alice taught me to look for the night I went to find my husband.
I take a deep breath, grimacing at the long, dangling cobwebs hanging in every corner.
It’s dark, and I’m having to feel around for the other flight of stairs that will take me up to the second floor.
I pass a panel left slightly askew and peek through to see Mr. Ainsworth in his office, not exactly hiding but not doing much to prevent what’s happening outside of his office.
I don’t know why, but I feel this sense of urgency to go to him.
So I do.
I move the panel lightly, making sure not to make too much noise, and climb out, leg first, then torso, then my other leg.
I don’t close the panel behind me. I don’t feel the need to.
I feel as though whatever is about to happen will not be the death of me…
although I cannot say the same for him. This? This is kismet.
He turns in his office chair when he senses me, dark eyes full of…
something. A kind of wisdom that seems too much to bear.
Like the crown of being king of an underground secret society has finally worn him down.
He looks at me with a type of understanding.
He knows why I’m here. He knows when I leave here, I’ll be taking his life with me.
Only I can bear that weight. “I take it you’ve killed him?
” he asks, getting up and striding to the sidebar holding all kinds of decanters full of different kinds of liquor.
He pours amber liquid into two tumblers and brings me one.
Booms outside of his door are louder, and the chandelier in his office sways above us.
I take the tumbler and eye it, then him. With a grin, he takes a sip then winks at me. “If I wanted to poison you, I would have the second you stepped foot in my kitchen. The night I offered you a slice of cake. Sweets were always your weakness,” he hums. “I do remember that of you.”
“I’m more of a white wine kind of woman.”
He dips his chin with a smile on his face. “Ah, yes, so was my first wife. You know, you remind me of her very much. Which is how I knew you’d be the death of Kanedrew.”
“I’m guessing she tried to kill you?”
“I woke up to the barrel of a gun shoved under my neck a few times.”
I swallow thickly, then take in a deep breath. “Did she survive you?”
He frowns. “Me? Yes. Them—” He points with his chin to the door only seven paces to my right. “No.”
“You know he had to die, don’t you? You know what he did to me?”
Mr. Ainsworth glances away for just a moment, to the pounding now at the door, the scream just beyond it.
“Not until a few evenings ago. There were very few things Kane could truly ever hide from me. His… proclivities were one of those things. Granted, I suppose I did teach him how to get away with murder. Leave no trail behind. In a way, what he did to you… may as well have been my fault. I suppose this is my penance for all of my misdeeds.”
My hand involuntarily moves to the back of my waistband, finding the handle of my pretty pink gun. “And Charles? My brother? You knew about that as well?”
He blinks, then nods. “It was a terrible way to go. And so young. Believe me, Sabrina, the day I signed as his witness, there was no pride in my heart.”
The day he signed as his witness…
Vitriol rises like a fury I’ve never felt, lighting me up like a blazing inferno, reminding me I am Icarus, and I was made to burn. To fall. To fly. To ignite until this shell of mine is anew. Not a phoenix, per se. Something worse. Something dangerous. A perilous dragon protecting its horde.
Seething, I tug Pixie out of my pants and thumb the hammer down, shoving the barrel under his neck.
“Your filthy grandson stood beside me at Charlie’s funeral.
You stood beside him. Tell me, did David know?
” Another grunt is heard outside of the door, and I know I’ve wasted too much time here.
But I wait for his answer, never letting my eyes wander from his.
“Yes,” he rasps.
And it’s the last word he ever speaks. Brain matter splats on the brilliant white wall, and he falls backward, the tumbler shattering on impact. I point my gun downward and shoot twice more. One to the chest, the other to his dick.
I’m still standing over him when the door to his office opens. I point my gun, ready to shoot, still vibrating with rage.
“Brina, baby, put it down.”
“Move!” I growl and pull the trigger.
He moves his head as the bullet grazes his ear and hits the fucker behind him, about to swing a machete, in the eye. He covers his ear, peering behind him for a second and then back at me. “Need more ammo, baby?”
I let my head bob up and down as he makes his way to me, stepping over Alfrederick’s corpse. “You okay?”
I glance at his ear. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head with a quick frown, mismatched eyes peering into my soul. “Nothing a band aid can’t fix, baby.”
I choke on the sob rippling up my chest and into my throat. “I love you, Savage.”
Parker shoves his arms around my middle and hauls me up for a kiss.
My lips part to give him entry, to let him know he always has access to me.
My mind. My heart. The kiss turns brutal, melting away the misery that wants to choke me, take me down, and swallow me whole.
We pull apart, panting, desire flaring for the other; he kisses me one last time, softly, and then hands me more ammunition for Pixie.
I feed the bullets into the magazine at record speed like Bianchi taught me and shove it back into Pixie. This rare, exquisite extension of myself, then tuck my little pink beauty back into my waistband. “C’mon. Let’s find Alice.”
He follows me back to the hidden corridors, pulling out a small flashlight from one of his many tactical pockets, and we find the narrow staircase much quicker.
He pushes the panel at the end open for me, and we climb out.
No damage has been done to this area yet.
In fact, it’s been completely untouched.
It feels… wrong. “The room I was staying in. I told her to meet me there. To wait for me there. That I’d come get her. ”
“You think maybe there’s a chance she’s not there?”
I inhale. “Something tells me she will be. And if not there, then the library.”
“Alright,” he dips his chin. “I’ll follow your lead. If I go first and she has a weapon, chances are she’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
But it is eerily silent in this wing. “Do you hear that?”
I love that with Parker I never have to overly explain myself; he seems to understand my every thought before I even voice it.
That the silence up here is disturbing and it isn’t right.
There’s a war going on not four meters below us, but it’s silent here?
Improbable. “On it.” He lifts his finger to his ear and then says, “Aleksi. We’re in the North wing.
It’s a little too quiet if you catch my drift.
” I do not hear Aleksi’s response, but Parker sternly—-“No.
Not the tank. We're on a rescue mission, remember?”
My eyebrows hike up to my forehead and I shake my head.
Mother will not believe this. And if she so decides to write this story, the number of times I tell her ‘I just couldn’t find it believable,’ will be outrageous.
As if a fictional story is supposed to be one hundred percent believable.
I roll my eyes inwardly at the thought, grinning when I spot Bianchi and Rossi at the end of the hallway. I almost squeal in excitement.
“Have you found the girl?” Bianchi asks, his Staten Island accent so pronounced. God, I missed it.
“No,” Parker shakes his head, then makes a motion for us to follow him down the long hallway, where sure enough, the noise has somehow ceased.
Or maybe the war raging downstairs has stopped, but I don't think that’s the case.
Bianchi hands me a magazine full of ammunition, then pulls out another gun and hands it to Parker.
They all turn and flank me as though I’m the most important, and there are too many people here, but the silence in the hallway only seems to grow louder, causing my ears to perk up.
“Something is very wrong,” I whisper as we tiptoe through until we reach the library.
Parker places his hand on the knob and makes a shushing motion with his finger, gently pushing the door open and…
it’s a fucking mess. Papers and books strewn everywhere, furniture flipped, glass from the coffee table is broken on the ground. The signs of a struggle are obvious.
“Alice?” I call out once we’re all inside.
“It’s empty, baby.”
But it doesn’t feel empty. I step around him, keeping my gun to my side, loaded and ready to kill.
That’s when I hear it, the tiniest whimpering noise.
I follow it behind the sofa and find Alice on the ground, with a large piece of glass sticking out of her sternum.
She lifts her hand when she sees me, and I drop down to get to her.
Another noise grabs my attention. A big burly man comes rushing out from behind one of the bookshelves.
I twist my torso, shooting twice as another shot rings out.
His fat hands fly to his throat as blood pours from his throat from the side.
The shot wasn’t from my direction. I direct my attention back to Alice and grasp her hand, placing the most pleasant smile I can on my face.
She fought after all. Charlie’s… Charlie’s sister is a warrior.
He would be so proud. “Now, you listen to me. You are not going to die on me. Do you understand? I promised my husband I would get you, and that’s what I'm here to do. I will not have one more person die because of us today—” Her eyes flick to the man on the ground.
“That’s the exception, darling. Now, here’s the deal.
We are keeping that shard of glass in you.
Do you know why? Perfect. Now I don't have to explain that it’s what’s keeping you alive so you don’t bleed out. ”
I look around and notice with the way one of the fallen bookshelves broke, we could use the side of it as a makeshift bed to get her out.
Parker sees what I’m looking at, and I don't have to tell him anything.
He immediately goes through the debris and pulls it out, making the rest of the bookshelf collapse onto itself.
I look down at Alice. “You know what to do; stay as still as you possibly can.”
She nods, but she’s gone as pale as a ghost, and her breathing has slowed to an alarming rate.
We move her as easily as we can without shifting the shard of glass.
On a three, Bianchi and Rossi lift her, but she reaches for me and grabs my hand as tight as she can, but it isn’t very tight.
When I peer down, her lip is trembling and tears are streaming to the sides and into her hair.
“None of that, love, we’re almost there.
Did I tell you my mother believes you might be my sister?
Err, my brother’s sister—but it may as well make you mine.
Charlie was wonderful. A badger at times, but overall the best brother one could have.
He would have loved you. You’re quite the fighter…
and… so very brave.” I shut up before my voice begins to tremble and my chin wobbles. I do not let go of her hand.
Not even when we’ve reached the bottom step and all is quiet and we pass Maksim’s men, who are pulling corpses off the floor and verifying every single Syndicate member is good and dead.
I don’t let go of her hand when Maksim gets to us or when his eyes go wide at the shard of glass in her chest.
I don’t let go when we’ve gotten into a vehicle large enough to hold all of us until we get to the Winters’ estate.
I do not let go of her hand… even when she lets go of mine.