Chapter 23 Homesick （Margot） #3
“Because I believe him when he says he’s not responsible,” I say.
“Kane is on your side, and if you want to make a stand against OptiSynth for ripping you off, I think he’ll help you.
They called him once, asking for a favor, and he was so angry…
I’ve never seen him like that. He’s a good man.
He doesn’t want it to be like this. But Lee, this isn’t the way.
You need lawyers, not bullets. Not blood. ”
He stares at me for a few more seconds, the flashlight fixed on my face, blinding me.
Please, please believe me.
“I wonder, did he give you this little script?” he asks at last. I want to cry. “Or did you come up with it on the spot? Maybe they should’ve hired you for PR, Miss Blackthorn.”
“This isn’t a stunt—”
“Just shut up. Shut the fuck up, and I won’t need to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want to. I’m not bloodthirsty. I’m a peaceful person. But if you defend Kane Saint one more time—if you keep making excuses—they’ll have to write your obituary next to his.”
I shake my head, feeling my face screw up.
“Please, you don’t have to kill him.”
“I do, I do.” His voice is impassive, freed from the passion from before. “That’s what I came here to do and there’s no turning back. I can’t buy my way out of this like a Blackthorn.”
That’s it then.
The only question is if I die with Kane.
Then the storm door flies open, tossing in the wind.
Lee whips around, gun swinging at the opening.
There’s nothing there.
Just indifferent rain and churning grey clouds and the dull growl of thunder, though the rain looks lighter than before. A faint patter on the steps rather than a death drum.
I press a hand against my chest, trying to breathe.
“Who’s there?” Lee calls, unsure, inching closer to the stairs. He has the gun in both hands now, trained at the patch of restless sky.
The dim light shows off my grandmother’s statue, and I stare at it, grounding myself and trying to breathe.
Lee stays preoccupied with whoever lifted the door.
Someone must’ve yanked it open.
There’s a reason this is a storm shelter. It might be old with rusted hinges, but no wind short of a nor’easter is hauling one of those heavy doors open.
“I’m warning you!” Lee barks at the sky. “I’m armed and I’m not afraid to shoot.”
Come on, think.
Think while he’s distracted.
Could I even lift the statue? What about a lump of little shoes? Or would Lee notice and shoot me first?
A real possibility, but I can’t just stand here.
Especially if Kane’s up there, unarmed.
I can’t bear it if rescuing me gets him shot and killed.
I have to try.
So I peel away from the wall slowly, slinking toward the worktable as Lee treads up the stairs carefully. He’s too high to see me now without looking down, all his attention fixed on whatever’s waiting outside.
But what if it’s not Kane?
The Babins probably aren’t dead.
Lee beaned Viola on the head pretty bad, but how long will she be conked out? Maybe she’s already back on the prowl, lurking with her club and a thirst for revenge.
God, I hope not.
I’m done with this monster of the week thing tonight.
Also, I don’t want her to die, even if she’s an awful, deranged woman.
Lee reaches the top of the stairs and pokes his head up into the night.
I’m closing in, ready to reach for the statue and test its massive weight, when a hammer flies past him and clatters down the stairs, breaking off a chunk of concrete.
I stumble back, narrowly avoiding the impact as it spins by my feet. There’s barely a second to glance at it.
What the—
Lee fires.
“Kane!” I shriek.
Because Viola wouldn’t bring a hammer to a gunfight.
My gut knows.
And if anything happens to that brave man, I’ll never forgive myself.
When he hears my voice, Lee whirls around and sprays hellfire.
But I’m already flat on the ground before the bullets come zinging overhead.
Behind me, there’s a deafening crack. A shot goes bouncing around the room.
The sound of shattered glass.
Fine tinted shards explode like confetti as I scramble to cover my face from getting sliced.
When I open my eyes, I’m still in disbelief.
A blurry shadow cannonballs Lee with a primal roar.
Two men go down like lions, snarling and tossing, two tornadoes of limbs at war.
Kane’s on top—for now—crashing his fists into Lee’s face.
Then Lee flips him over and slams an elbow into Kane’s ribs.
Oh, no.
Kane grunts with pain, and I cover my face again.
Neither of them notice the glass shards under them. There’s a larger fragment by my hand, about the size of a spoon.
I reach out to grab it, but it falls apart in my fingers, the fine cracks split through it giving way.
So much for an easy weapon.
Then Kane levers up and throws Lee into the brick wall with so much force it feels like the whole space trembles.
Lee’s face smacks the wall with a sickening thud, but he pulls back, twisted and bleeding.
Just in time to jab his thumb into Kane’s wrist, breaking his hold.
I can’t stand this.
My fingers tremble over my eyes as I look between them, wondering how I can jump in to help.
But it’s too late.
Lee’s gun swings up, a death promise aimed at Kane.
I’m about to scream, but Kane knocks his arm aside and punches him in the face so hard something cracks.
Do something! Before they kill each other.
My pulse beats so fast it turns my hurting stomach.
Lee dropped his flashlight and it rolled across the cellar. Now the light burns against the wall, showing two thrashing shadows.
Thankfully, Kane’s military training and muscle gives him the upper hand.
After a few more blows so fast I can’t see them, he has Lee pinned against the wall again.
The lunatic’s face looks battered, smeared with blood and dust.
For a second, I think it’s over.
But I see the way Lee’s hand moves, twisting the gun toward Kane’s stomach.
And Kane’s hands are too busy holding Lee down to notice. There’s nothing he can do to stop the gun’s slow, snaking journey.
His face is slick, straining, his eyes wild with effort.
I have three seconds.
I pop up quickly.
I don’t care about the danger or the glass cutting the palms of my hands as I lunge for the statue.
Yes, it’s just as heavy as it looks.
A freaking boulder.
Muscles I never knew I had scream in my back as I heave it up, high over my head.
“Margot, no!” Kane warns. “Stay back!”
Lee smiles, more reptile than ever with new gaps in his teeth.
“Fugg you, Saind,” he slurs. “Gonna kill you.”
The gun inches closer.
Kane’s neck muscles bulge in stark relief.
My arms are shaking.
I can’t hold this statue much longer, I—
“Drop it, you asshole,” Kane rasps. “Last chance.”
“Nodding else madders,” Lee gurgles.
The gun barrel digs into Kane’s stomach.
Lee’s bloody smile widens.
“Y-ou you’re the reason my life’s shid. They’ll know shoon. The whole wide whirld.”
“Go ahead,” Kane snaps, right in his face now, pressing his bulk into the gun. “Shoot me. Won’t change a damn thing. Nothing will do that when you chose violence. You chose to be a slave to your past.”
“No!” I whisper.
I know what he’s doing.
He’s still redirecting him.
This brave, beautiful man will die ten times just to keep a madman’s gun away from me.
Kane cranes his neck and looks at me.
“That’s something I’ll never be again thanks to this woman,” he whispers softly.
Oh. My. God.
Lee coughs and spits blood on the floor next to Kane.
“Shud the fugg up!”
“No. I heard what you told her. I lost my life once, too.” Kane looks back at Lee again, and I slowly lower the statue.
The gun hasn’t moved, but Lee frowns, hesitating.
“Took me forever to find it again, but I did. I filled that chasm. After meeting Margot Blackthorn, I can die happy if you shoot me tonight. I found the woman I love.”
Love.
He loves me and I’m so freaking gutted I can’t move.
That’s why he stayed.
That’s why he put his kids on a plane and rushed back for me.
That’s why we’re both here, staring death in the face.
That’s why he’s prepared to die any second, to give up his life for mine.
It’s all a violent blur now.
All the early mornings in the kitchen.
Late nights under the twinkling stars and glowing planets.
The laughter and kisses.
The sweetness, the standoffs, the memories we made with Sophie and Dan—of course it meant something.
Only the entire world.
“If you kill me,” Kane growls, “then you’re giving up on your only way back. You can still be human. You can stomp out that fire, that hate, that ugliness before it ruins you, Lee.”
Silence.
There’s a massive lump in my throat as my lips twitch and I whisper, “I love you too.”
Not how I ever imagined we’d say those words.
Absolutely the most messed-up timing.
But that just makes it truer, holy vows written in adrenaline and blood. If this maniac murders him in front of me, at least we—
The statue starts to slip in my hands and I lunge for the ground.
Lee slumps against Kane’s hold with a groan, his head hanging.
It’s like he’s a human balloon deflating, a long ribbon of blood and saliva drooling from his mouth.
His chest heaves out a sob.
Then after the longest second, his gun falls to the ground.
Amazing it doesn’t go off.
Kane reaches for a loose brick beside Lee’s head and with one swift hit, he knocks him out cold.
“Just in case. He’ll live,” he tells me, letting the man slump to the floor next to his gun, lifeless.
I’m still on my knees, gripping the statue, staring in wide-eyed horror.
He gently pries my numb hands away, and he still somehow has the energy to carry it back to its stand.
Battered, bruised, and bleeding, he’s perfection.
The most wonderful man alive.
And miraculously, he is alive.
Holy shit, we survived!
“Never walk up to a man with a gun again, duchess,” he says with a thin smile.
“No choice. I thought he was going to shoot you,” I whisper brokenly, giving in to rest my forehead against his chest.
He smells like blood and sweat and stone, mingled with testosterone.
It’s like breathing pine needles, but I don’t care.
This scent is quintessentially Kane, and I’m about two seconds away from losing my last thread of self-control.
“Nah,” he says, embracing me. “Nah, he was just angry. Full of mindless pain. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
His hand sweeps my hair, holding me against his wall of a chest.
For a second, we both breathe, inhaling each other and the wonder of being alive and in love.
“Got your call,” he says over my head. “I thought he was hurting you.”
“Only a little. He wanted you. I don’t think he planned to kill me.”
“I’m fucking glad he didn’t.” His voice goes pitch-dark.
“Thank you for coming back.” I run a hand up his back and he flinches. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry you took a beating, I—”
“This?” He leans away and glances at a nasty gash on his forearm before wrapping his arm around my waist. “Just a scrape. Come on, woman. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Even though we’re both okay and I’m so grateful I didn’t have to crush a man’s head, my legs are still weak.
It’s Kane, and only Kane that keeps me standing as we stumble up the stairs.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time we finally surface.
We’re greeted by a reassuring blueberry-cherry flash of lights.
“Better late than never,” I whisper.
Kane chuckles in agreement.
I take a long, rough pull of the cool night air.
It’s over.
This ugly chapter is done, and now comes the rest of our story.