Chapter 24
Anita
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O nce inside, my focus is on finding that necklace, so I head to where they were, stepping over dead men, kicking a walkie-talkie, then making it to the room I wish to never see again. It’s disgusting, awful, and inhumane. Victor is going to get what’s coming to him, every child he’s taken I will slice him with each count. Including the same way he's hurt Ronan.
I’ll do it with a gigantic smile on my face, his body will be so lacerated in wilts he'll wish I only given him a bullet.
I search under the chair, my eyes wandering around quickly so I’m not in here for too long. I check the other chairs, but nothing is there. My heart sinks, the disappointment making way into my chest.
“Dammit,” I mumble.
I release a puff of air, defeat setting in, and the image of her face wrecked in sorrow brings a twist to my heart. Turning on my heel, I take a glance at the bombs as I walk out. Something silver is glistening, a piece of metal that’s not distinct from the other parts of the bomb.
That’s it.
I rush over to the necklace, carefully pulling it from the bomb strap, taking a look at it. The silver cremation jewel that’s shaped like a tiny flute swings back and forth slightly. “Time to get back to your daughter,” I whisper, balling it up into my fist to put it in my pocket.
I’m caught off balance when thick, strong arms crush around me, containing my body.
“Not so fast, bitch!” an angry voice says, heat fuming off him and spit spraying on the side of his face. My gears go into overdrive, and I stumble back, hoping to run into a wall to break his hold. But his weight is heavier than life, and it weighs me down. I slam my head back against his nose, a curling growl rumbles from his throat.
He doesn't let go.
“You fucking bitch. Now you’re dead.” His hold becomes tighter before he spins around, throwing my body into the wall.
The abrasion of my entire body slams against tin metal; it's hard enough to rattle my teeth, coursing an excruciating pain through me. I land flat on my belly with my leg bent.
I release an agonizing groan, my hand planting on the floor to make my way up, but I’m faltering, my arms shaking from the throw.
I can fight.
I glance up as he strides toward me. “You all thought you could come in here and—”
His words are nonexistent to me as I reach for the dagger connected to my hip, but it’s not there. Fuck. I glance around quickly to find it tossed to the side from when he threw me. It’s out of reach, which makes it impossible to get to it in time without him catching me mid run.
He grabs for me, snatching my hair, and wrapping my braid into a tight ball, then tossing me on my back like a rag doll.
He spits on my face as he talks. “Your whole team will die this time. You were already supposed to be dead.”
I squirm as the foul wetness from his mouth sprays onto my cheeks and lips. His large black eyes blare into mine as he wraps his meaty fingers around my throat, squeezing tightly, like I’m the worst thing that’s happened to him.
I am.
“Sorry about that,” I croak sarcastically through what’s left of my airway. The venom spreads through my blood, fuming into my bones. I scratch at his bare arms, digging with my life; he releases a pained growl from the abrasion, throwing his head back. I use that moment to ball my fist and punch him in his exposed throat, bringing my knee up and kicking him in his ass to push him over me. He lands on his back gasping for air, clutching his clogged neck.
I roll over with a shake of my head, gripping my chest to allow the air to flow properly, the lightheadedness washing over me from the knock against the wall and the chokehold. That hurt like hell.
I wheeze, inhaling as much air through my nose to get my heart pumping. As I do, I spot my dagger. He continues huffing for air like a newborn baby coming out of the womb.
I get on my feet, stumbling, but rushing to my blade. My back’s now turned to him, until I hear another howl along with harsh thuds, the sound so loud I jump from the piercing scream and turn with my dagger ready to plunge into his chest.
My eyes widen as I watch Ronan throw him against the wall with a strength I’ve never seen before.
He came for me.
Ronan grips the man's throat while the other punches him hard in the face. The strikes are so harsh you can hear his bones breaking. His height matches the man’s but not the weight—the guy is bigger for sure—but there is no doubt Ronan would destroy him. He then chokes the man with both hands.
“Nobody touches her. Nobody.” I hear him seethe through his rage.
The man squirms and gurgles; his pale face now beet red, and his already large eyes bulge from his sockets. Ronan delivers another punch, then changes direction, going behind the man and choking him with his arm. It locks him in even tighter, causing the man's body to arch.
My eyes run wild over the brutal mayhem. I step closer. And closer. My dagger swirls in my hand, completely awed by the death coursing in Ronan's eyes. His face etched with an eerie, chilled smirk as he gazes at me, too.
The man punches at Ronan's arm and attempts to scratch at his eyes. Ronan only moves his face, shaking it away, the strands of his hair falling to his sweaty forehead, the darkness lurking around him. My heart melts, my throat constricting enough to seize the air.
The way he defends me.
Kills for me.
Cares for me.
Even looks at me. Like I’m all that he sees over the horror. His eyes dim sadistically. “Go ahead, little snake. He’s all yours.”
My eyes are on Ronan’s. I am stuck in a trance, drawn to him like a bee to its hive. I grin deviously before glaring at the man whose eyes are rolling back, his punches dying down.
I swing my arm up, plunging my dagger into his chest cavity. His eyes widened and crimson spills out of his mouth. My smile grows; I do it over and over again, his red liquid splashing on me and Ronan like paint. I don't bother wiping—the blood doesn't bother me. It drives the thrill to continue the attack, to achieve more, to pour out until he's drained from life. His bones break and crack between the metal steel as I fillet his flesh. A sick type of euphoria overtakes my mind, and I don’t stop until his chest is caved, and his body goes limp. My chest rises and falls with ease, a release of anger dissipated.
Ronan lets him go, his body tumbling to the ground like a boneless chicken.
Our eyes connect once he hits the floor. I half expect him to look at me like a freak with blood smeared across my face, a psycho that enjoys killing a man. There’s nothing but a hazy gaze. He mirrors my image because he is the shadow demon that dives into my being. Fiddling with the chaos to bring out the sweet carnage in me.
A rush of sparks zap throughout my body, big flutters surface in the pit of my belly.
He pushes off the wall with his shoulder then threads his fingers through his dark hair, looking sexy and evil as fuck with blood drenched on his black clothes, some droplets on his face and neck.
Ronan's eyes dim like a dull light as his hand comes up to my nape, threading into my hair. The instant connection sends shivers up my shoulders and down my legs.
My mouth dries, and my breath hitches.
“You missed a spot,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to smear the dead man's red juice over a small section of my cheek.
I stay quiet, still dazed by him. He leans down and kisses me gently on my lips that I hardly feel it, but that alone bombards an unsettling number of sensations through my soul.
He rises back up, his eyes still on me, he takes the dagger from my bloody hands and takes a piece of shirt under his vest and proceeds to wipe the blade clean, free of blood.
Once done, he hooks his finger in a Velcro on my vest, pulling me closer to him. I move with him, like a moth flying to the only bright light on a black street.
He stuffs my blade back into its holster, securing it carefully. He didn’t need to look down to see where it was, he already knew the exact spot, its exact placement.
“Thank you.” I find my voice, searching his beautiful face like he's some angel.
“For what?”
“You came back.”
His eyes narrow. “I will always come back, even if I’m tied down with constraints.” His jaws tighten. “Even if it nearly kills me. I’ll always be there for you.” He fixes his vest and wrinkled shirt which became disheveled from the choking escapade. “So don’t ever thank me. Don’t thank me for doing what I’m supposed to do.”
My gut ruffles with little feathers. How is it possible for someone to be so unbelievably unhinged yet so remarkably sweet?
I lick my dry lips, taking my fingers through my bangs to push it back. It’s become hotter. “Did the kids get to the bus safely?”
He wraps his hand around my elbow, urging me to the door. “Yes, it’s only a matter of time that Victor will figure out our rendezvous.”
“Wait.” I stop mid-walk. “Can’t forget what I came here for.” He releases my arm for me to walk to get the necklace off the floor.
As soon as I bend to grab it, a sharp pain escalates up my side, shooting to my back. I wince with a curse, my hand clutching my side.
“Anita.” Ronan's voice heightens, and in one step, he’s at my side before I can blink. His hand lands gently on my lower back. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
I let out a sigh, stretching up slowly, his hand slides up my spine stopping where the pain originated.
“I’m okay. It’s from when he threw me against the wall like a piece of paper. That’s not normal strength.” I chuckle, attempting to stretch the side of my back, but that only makes the pain worse.
I make light of it, but Ronan doesn’t laugh, he doesn't even grin. His jaw clenches, like he’s chomping down on bricks, his chest puffing like he’s ready to stomp on the dead body. He takes my elbow again, much gentler, and guides me toward the door.
“I thought we got everyone,” I say, stuffing the necklace in my pocket as we walk out the door.
“He must’ve been the one that was guarding the door and then hid somewhere. Probably was going to head right to Victor until he saw you.” His focus is straight ahead as he touches my lower back again.
“I knew I should’ve come instead.” He speaks out loud, but it seems more like he’s speaking to himself.
“I’m okay,” I repeat. Stepping out, the brisk air slams into me like a boulder, and I accept every bit of it. I’m hot from that altercation and need all the air I can get before getting to Victor.
“No, you’re not,” he responds.
We walk down the hill and toward the group, the bus ready to go, the other trucks from the rest of the team engine on and ready to head out. We agreed that once the kids are secure, then the red team will leave with them, making sure each kid makes it back home to their families.
Red walks up to Ronan, holding his rifle in front of him. I slide from Ronan’s touch and stand-off to the side. He sides eyes me for a second before clasping his hands behind his back.
“The parents were already notified that their kids are safe. They will not be wiring any money.”
“And the other thing,” Ronan stated.
“They’ll be transferring the money to local charities as we speak.”
Ronan nods. “Good. I’ll see everyone back at the compound.”
“You got it.” He steps back, his gaze landing on me before walking to his men.
I glance at Ronan baffled with a raised brow. “You had them give money to charities?”
Ronan’s gaze stays fixated on Red’s for a second longer before slowly looking at me. “What, is that a problem?”
I dig in my pocket to get the necklace with a smile. “No. It’s surprising, that’s all.”
He steps closer. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”
The trucks rev in the background. I step back slowly, leaving him there to watch me. “A little girl is expecting this.” I dangle the necklace in front of my face, then I turn around to walk to the bus.
Wicked Mal comes from around her truck that’s parked a few yards in front of the bus.
She stops when she sees my hands and blood on my jacket. “Damn, Cinderella, what the hell happened to you?”
I continue walking to the bus with a grin. “Sorry, you missed all the fun.” I chuckle as I blow her a kiss with my bloody hand.
“That’s not fair.” Her voice raised from afar as I made my way to the bus.
I snicker some more, stepping onto the bus. My heart is easing with relief because I know this will make the little girl happy. It's the only thing she has left of her father.
Something I understand more than anyone knows.