Chapter 25 Melody
Melody
Dante warned me about The Eligos sending a caravan, but it still shakes me to my core seeing a horde of people with massive guns all dressed in black. They descend upon the hospital and toss a gigantic bag of money toward Rebecca, who barely catches it, wide eyes staring in shock.
"Your assistance was appreciated, and we believe this to be an appropriate compensation.
" A tall, thin man with shaggy black hair nods to Rebecca.
He produces a small business card and shoves it in her hand.
"If you feel it is lacking in any way, please call our relations line.
We will be taking our leave—and our associates—now. "
My stomach flip-flops as I'm rushed to an armored vehicle, and my lunch threatens to make a reappearance.
Dante keeps a steadying hand on the small of my back.
I'm a little worried he's going to feel my sweat seeping through the cheap clothes the hospital gave me.
But, on the other hand, he's seen me covered in multiple people's blood. A little sweat won't kill him.
Helena scurries behind a group of medics who roll Melnyk onto a traveling gurney and load him into another armored vehicle.
It looks like a repurposed ambulance. I can already hear her bickering with his care team.
That puts a tiny smile on my face, but it quickly melts as The Eligos's men strap me into a seat bolted to the sidewall.
"Our apologies for the abrupt departure. We find it to be safer." The thin man nods curtly. "You may call me Elliott."
"Okay, Elliott," I reply weakly. "What's happening to Melnyk? Is Helena staying with him? Where are we all going?"
"His care will continue with an elite team. Yes, the other woman may stay with him. We are going to a safehouse. What else may I answer for you?" He talks to me, but his eyes focus on the tablet. He types with fervor after strapping himself in.
"How long did The Eligos have eyes on us?" Dante interrupts. His brow is furrowed with barely contained anger. Weirdly, the heat between my legs flares to life. He's hot when he's pissed. "Why did it take her this long to send a crew? Why did she not storm the prison compound?"
Elliott clicks the tablet screen off and gives Dante his full attention.
"We regained surveillance when you broke out.
She—and her analytics teams—have been working around the clock to decipher exactly where you came from.
The Beacon had rudimentary blocks on her systems, but they have been breached.
We sincerely apologize for the delay in assistance. "
It's so fucking weird to me that he's using all these business-y terms when we were literally trapped in a goddamn decommissioned prison. I assume. I don't even know how long we were there.
"How long were we gone?" I whisper.
"Ah. You disappeared for nearly twelve weeks. A little under three months."
"Three months?" I gasp. My pulse roars in my ears, and sweat breaks out on my brow. I can't keep my hands still—they twist and turn, grabbing at the hem of this stupid gray T-shirt. My thumbnail rips a tiny hole in the fabric. I can't stop myself from tearing it more. "Three fucking months?"
"Again, we do apologize for the delay in assistance." He sighs. "It was a large undertaking. There is a whole world out there, and the Seraph has wings everywhere—as you may have heard."
"That we have," Dante grunts. "Three months. Fuck."
"Fuck, indeed. I'd also like to extend my—and The Eligos's—condolences on the loss and betrayal of Roman.
I seem to recall him being a bit… prickly, shall we say?
This was during the investigation of your office manager's death.
Perhaps it was na?ve of me, but at the time, I chalked it up to emotional upset.
" Elliott shrugs. "You seemed to trust him.
Now, in regard to your current status—there are four of you in our custody, correct? Meaning you lost two?"
An icy shard of guilt stabs me through the heart. I didn't kill Nihil—of course, I didn't. But Forge is all on me. I can't believe I let his memory slip from my mind. Nausea bubbles in my gut.
"We did," Dante replies gruffly. "Unavoidable."
"Mm. Am I to understand that your wife will not be a threat to the safety of our associates?" Elliott gives me a hard look, and I feel a lump lodge in my throat.
"Not unless she needs to be." My husband's tone is harsh, and his words rattle around in my bones. I still can't… quite believe that he still loves me. After what I did, I mean. And—he's happy? He's happy we're going to have a baby—no, two babies?
He wasn't lying?
"You weren't lying?" I whisper, looking at Dante's snarling face through bleary tears.
"Of course not, but lying about what?" The speed at which he changes from intimidating to compassionate gives me a little whiplash.
"When you said… when you said you wanted a legacy with my, um, issues?"
"Oh, my love. Oh, my darling love. No. I was not lying.
You're vicious, you're lethal, and you're all mine.
And I swear to you, sweet love, that when this is all over?
I'm building a life with you. I'm building our legacy with both of us at the helm.
Promise me, love. Promise me you understand.
" He grips my hand with a gentle touch. The rich black of his tattoos swallows the pale, ashen gray of my sun-deprived skin.
My gorgeous man.
My Grim Reaper.
"I promise," I whisper. My stomach isn't quite settled, but it's much easier to swallow. Tears trickle down my cheeks, but he quickly swipes them away. "But… what if Helena hates me?"
"Then she's dead." He shrugs. "I know she's your friend, but if she ever disrespects you like that? I nearly lost you once—hell, I did lose you—due to my employee's hatred and betrayal. I will not make that mistake again."
"You can't do that!" I squeak. "You can't—I don't care if she hates me, you can't kill her!"
"Then her employment would be terminated."
"With a big severance payout." I glare at him, but I'm sure I don't look as menacing as I want. Sobbing with pregnancy hormones—and, like, everything else that's happened—does that to a woman.
He sighs. "If that's what you want, love."
"I'd much rather she not hate me and stay my best friend."
He opens his mouth, but a hazy look flashes across his face. His beautiful green eyes soften, and I swear, the ghost of a smile plays across his lips. "I think you should talk to her, then. When she's… less occupied."
"What was that?" I ask.
"Oh, love. I'll tell you when we're in a more, ah, private setting." He looks at me wistfully and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. "I promise."
Elliott clears his throat. "We have approximately half an hour before we reach the safehouse."
I flinch. I guess I forgot he was there.
Kind of difficult, considering it's just us three strapped into jump seats bolted to the wall—and a driver, ostensibly, somewhere on the other side of the corrugated metal divider.
I don't know. Something about the way Dante looks at me just… makes the world fall away.
"ETA, ten minutes," Elliott announces, waking me from my restless nap. I don't know what it is, but something about being in a car makes me sleepy. If you can even call this thing a car. It's more like a tank and a bus had a baby.
Dante stretches out with a loud yawn, and I hear his back pop. I'm so fucking jealous. I feel so tense, like I need to pop every single joint in my body.
"Soon, love," Dante murmurs. "I promise, when we get to the safe house, I'll give you the massage of your life."
"That's a pretty big promise, babe," I snicker. "Remember the spa day?"
He groans, but it's good-natured. "Don't remind me that exists, darling! We're just going to have to rough it for a little bit longer. And once you've had our little monsters—" He smiles and softly rubs the pooch of my belly. "—I'll buy you so many espresso martinis."
"Chocolate espresso martinis, sir." I poke his chest. "Don't forget that part."
"I could never."
As I smile at my husband, I feel the gentle rolling of the vehicle slow to a halt. Someone pounds twice on the side, and Elliott almost smiles. "Ah, we're here."
Thank god. I unstrap myself from this goddamn contraption with Dante close behind, and I yank on the door handle—unfortunately, it doesn't budge.
"Not yet." He stares at me with annoyance. "First, inspection. Once we get the all-clear, I will open the door."
"Ugh!" I grumble and flop back on the seat, crossing my arms. "I just want to get out. Wait—this isn't another underground bunker, is it?"
"No."
I wait for him to elaborate, but it seems like he's perfectly content to give me just the information I ask for and nothing else.
"Am I going to be able to see the sun?" I press.
"Yes." He frowns at his tablet.
"What?" I ask, practically bouncing off the walls.
"Nothing to concern yourself with. There was a situation at the southern perimeter, but it's been handled."
"What kind of situation?" Dante asks, standing up straight. Ah, work-mode Dante. Sexy. Jesus, what are my hormones doing?
"Again, nothing to concern yourself with. There was a false alarm. Our South Team reported activity on the perimeter; it was nothing." He clicks the tablet screen off, fixing Dante with an almost bored stare.
"Nothing or not, I am entrusting my safety—and my pregnant wife's safety—to you and your teams. I understand that you do not work for me.
However, I would appreciate it if you would speak to me like I know what the fuck I'm doing.
" Dante sizes the man up, his verdant eyes flashing with barely contained possessive rage.
"Noted."