Chapter 14 Dante
Dante
My wife practically bounces at my heels as we enter the house.
Plumes of dust fly into the air at every step.
This place is… well, it's disgusting. But it's a fitting end for Ella.
She thinks herself important? No, she'll meet her violent end and return to dust. Just like everyone else. No fanfare, no ceremony.
Just a slug to the brain.
Roman's gaze flicks between me and my wife, and I catch the tiniest hint of anxiety in the way he chews on his lower lip. He's nervous. It would be stupid of him to be confident, but I've never seen even a whisper of nerves in him before. My metaphorical hackles go up, and I grab Melody's hand.
"Love, wait—I don't like this," I whisper. She rounds on me with fury in her eyes.
"I know you don't. But this needs to happen." There's finality in her words. Roman narrows his gaze and nods once.
"She's right, sir. This needs to happen. So we can all be safe."
Dread grips my gut, and cold fear slithers into my veins. We're here. I can't stop this. It's too late. Whatever happens will happen.
Roman's phone vibrates in his pocket, and he whips it out, brows furrowed. "Shit. We have less than five minutes. Go, go, go!"
Melody flattens herself against the crumbling wall, and I scurry over, taking my stance behind her. My gun is loaded and heavy in my hand. Roman creeps around the corner and takes up his position near the front door. I can't see Melnyk or the other men, but I can only hope they're ready for this.
My wife turns around and mouths, "I love you.
" My heart stills in my chest. I love her, too.
I love her so much. I hope to any god or demon who might be listening that my feelings are wrong.
I hope that everything will go according to plan.
I hope that I get to hold my wife for the rest of my days. Please, please, let me be wrong.
The crunch of gravel beneath tires penetrates the silence like gunshots.
My heart works overtime as the car door slams shut seconds later.
She's here. She's here. She's here. Fuck, she's here.
I've never felt such an all-consuming fear in my life.
Not even when Melody was captured, not when she went to jail, not when she was found guilty.
This is worse. Oh, my god, this is worse. I hold back a gasping cringe when I hear boots stomping across the porch. My grip tightens around my gun, and I slide my finger around the trigger.
"Beacon?" Roman's gruff voice echoes around the space.
"At ease. You must be Klein, then?" Ella's clipped tone buzzes around in my skull. Melody stiffens, and I watch her pulse race in her neck.
"That's me. I think I have information on that woman you're looking for—the one who broke out of jail?"
"Your message said as much. Do you have her whereabouts? Is she around here?"
"I believe so, yes. I've got an old map from one of the locals on the table—he was more than helpful in outlining where all the old families used to live."
Every step of Roman's boots sends my heart pounding against my ribs. Melody quickly lifts the rifle and tucks her finger around the trigger, waiting for the first glimpse of Ella.
Time seems to slow around me. Blood whooshes in my ears at a deafening roar.
Somehow, even through the thick layer of dust, each thump of their shoes blasts through me like a rocket.
As silently as I can possibly muster, I take a deep breath and cock my gun at the empty space in front of my wife.
She clenches her jaw and adjusts the rifle.
In an instant, everything moves too fast. And all hell breaks loose.
Ella rounds the corner at Roman's gesture, and the bone-rattling crack of a gun rings out. Pain explodes and blooms in my chest—a ragged inhale forces its way out of my lips, and Melody's head whips around with an anguished scream. She fires at the movement, and Ella shouts in pain.
Blood.
My blood? No. It can't be.
Blood sprays from Ella's shoulder, and she clamps a hand over the wound, huffing out panicked breaths. Melody screams again, firing the rifle wildly, but Roman yanks it from her grip.
Roman?
He turns the gun on me and gives me a pitying smile. No. No, no, no—he set us up. Oh, my god, he set us up.
As quickly as I can, I aim at Ella and pull the trigger. Again and again. Melody lunges at Roman, and the last remnants of glass shatter from the windows.
Ella drops to the floor with a whimper, and Melody struggles with Roman. I stand frozen, my gun hot and heavy, while I gasp out breath after breath. Melnyk tumbles through the window, and I can finally move, I can finally breathe.
"Roman betrayed us!" I scream, trying to be heard above the clash. "Get Ella!"
Melnyk scurries towards her, but she aims a kick between his legs. He crumples to the floor, groaning in pain. I launch myself at Roman, pushing Melody away, wrenching the gun from his hands.
"You?" I gasp out. Melody snatches the gun from me and aims it at Ella.
"Me." Roman grins, blood pouring from his forehead. I don't know how he got cut—I don't know what happened. "Sorry, sir. If it's any consolation? I've always fucking hated you."
He headbutts me, and I feel my nose crack under the impact. Groaning, I tighten my grip around him and force him to the floor. Warm copper floods my mouth as I bare my teeth and circle my hands around his neck. The cocky smile drops from his face as he claws against my hands.
The rest of the world falls away as I strangle my best friend. My oldest friend. My most loyal companion. Roman. His icy blue eyes turn bloodshot as he fights me every step of the way. His skin is slick with sweat, and so is mine. Salty tears pour down my cheeks and mingle with our blood.
Wheezing breaths force their way from his throat, but I clamp down harder.
Something clatters around us, but I can't tell what it is.
I can't see anything but the life slipping away from my best friend's eyes.
His lips twist in a hateful grimace as he swings his arms around, trying to dislodge me in any way he can.
But he can't.
He can't.
Another loud crack rings out, and a red, gory hole blooms in his forehead. His body stills beneath me.
Everything in my peripherals rushes back. I'm holding the corpse of my best friend against the floor, my hands won't leave his neck, and my wife stands above us. My wife. Melody.
She holds a smoking gun, still pointed at Roman. Tears flow down her cheeks, too, as I look up at her.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers. Her brown eyes overflow with tears, and then time slows down. Her eyes lose their focus as a heavy beam of wood hits her on the side of the head, forcing her mouth open in a shocked expression.
Rafaella stands behind her, panting and wheezing as blood pours down her leg.
She limps closer with a pained grimace and raises the board again.
I can't move fast enough, but I scramble to my feet and lunge between the women, blocking Ella from hitting my wife again.
Melody lets out a tiny grunt and collapses to the floor.
"No!" I bellow, turning my back on Ella. "Melody!"
"Bad move, Dante," Ella snarls. Splintering pain erupts from the back of my head—I feel it in my teeth, down my arms—my nerves are on fire. I don't have the time to react before she pummels me again, and it all goes dark.
I'm vaguely aware of water dripping somewhere. The rhythmic sound is constant. Every few seconds, drip. And something's stuck in my arm—I feel the invading pinch of an IV. Is that the drip? Did Roman hook me up to some saline? Did I lose blood?
Wait. Roman. Grief shoots me through the heart, and I swear I feel the stabbing pain crash through me.
My oldest friend, my best friend. Roman betrayed us, and he's dead.
He's dead, and I'll never speak with him again.
Letting out a tiny groan, I try to wipe the grime from my face, but something cold and unyielding stops me.
The IV line jiggles in my vein as I try to maneuver my arm, sending a tiny pang of nausea into my gut.
The itch of crusted, dried blood on my face irritates me as I try to work out how my arms are restrained. I still can't see anything—my eyes feel gummy and dry, and blinking does nothing. As my consciousness slowly seeps back in, I realize there's a blindfold around my face.
"What the fuck?" I whisper, trying to rub my face against something. Anything. I need to see where I am; I need to see what the hell is going on.
"You're awake! Good!" A familiar feminine voice pierces my eardrums—god, why is it so loud?
Light floods my eyes as the blindfold is ripped away. I wince and squeeze my eyes shut, grunting as a pounding headache sends another wave of nausea through my gut. The burn of bile in my throat makes me cough.
Cold liquid splashes down my face, and a rough, dry rag pulls at my skin. As soon as the attack relents, I squint open an eye and take in my surroundings.
No. Ella smiles maliciously at me from a metal folding chair, holding a water bottle and the rag.
I yank myself away—but my restraints hold me fast. Looking down at myself, my wrists are bound by handcuffs, locked to either side of a metal hospital gurney.
Kicking my feet, I find thick iron shackles around my ankles.
They're welded to a heavy chain that disappears below me.
"So nice of you to join me, Dante." Ella fake-pouts and inspects her short fingernails. "Your wife isn't awake yet."
"Melody?" My voice scratches in my throat, sounding hoarse and weak. "You took her?"
"Correction." Ella holds up a finger. "We took all of you. Regrettably, Roman didn't survive the ordeal. He would have had such fun with you after all these years of being your little lapdog."
Icy dread and fear slither in my bones. A cold sweat breaks out on my brow. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, was that a surprise? That he's been Seraph all this time? Oops." She shrugs. "You're not as smart as you look."
"How?" I ask, my heart rate spiking. The machinery she's hooked me up to starts beeping an alarm, and she sighs. She pokes a button, and the alarm ceases.
"What, you expect me to start monologuing? Tell you my grand plan? That's cute." She giggles. "You're almost done with that bag, and there's no lasting damage to your head. Which is nice for me; you'll be alive and well when the Nephilim arrives."
My mouth goes dry. "Who are you, really? Obviously you're with the Seraph, but who are you?"
"You haven't figured it out? Wow. Melody real can pick 'em, huh?" Ella smirks. "The new Beacon of North America, thanks to your little military mole and murderous wife. Putting her away didn't just get me a promotion on the force."
I suck in a breath as my heart leaks down to the roiling pit of my stomach. I knew Ella was up there, but the Beacon? There's no one above her—except for the Nephilim.
"Where is she?" I manage to snarl.
"Who, your wife? She's here. I'm about to go check on her. Don't worry, Dante—we'll take excellent care of her." With that, Ella stands and pats my exposed foot before exiting the room. I try to jerk away, but the IV moves around under my skin again, making me dry-heave.
"You'll fucking regret this, Ella!" I shout. "I'm going to kill you if Melody doesn't get to you first!"
My voice echoes around the enclosed space, but I swear I can hear Ella's haughty giggle from beyond the thick walls.
I finally manage to look around. Water still drips in the distance, but with my consciousness and sight regained, the gravity of the situation hits me like a brick.
I'm chained to a metal gurney in a concrete room.
Old black stains mar the walls, and puddles of stagnant water gather in the corners.
The door—if you could call it a door—is made of old iron bars, or possibly steel.
It's a prison. It's an old, abandoned prison.
I can't see daylight from any angle, and I don't want to move too much.
At least, until I get this goddamn needle out of my arm.
Fuck, we're back in an underground prison.
Melody's terrified face flashes through my mind—she's going to be inconsolable.
I grit my teeth and writhe my arm, trying to force the IV out.
If I can just get this fucker out, I can dislocate my thumb and wrench myself out of these cuffs.
A hair-raising scream echoes through the hall, and my heart sinks even lower. My wife is awake, and I'm not there.