CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TESSA
Five feet away from my target.
The heat from the scorching flames of the exploding vehicle licks my skin.
I roll for cover, stay tight to the ground, and reach inside my boot to rub my thumb over the balisong that Maddox handed to me.
He didn’t bestow it as a fighting tool, but rather a keepsake—his treasured knife that reminds him of his mother and music.
He was saying goodbye. It pisses me off, but as I watch this massacre, it makes sense.
As soon as I finished texting the group chat, I gathered the weapons that Maddox had given me, arming myself with what I needed and stuffing the rest in various places—my crossbody purse, my boot, and my pocket.
It’s been less than five minutes, and he’s decimated most of the men, but I’m baffled that he’s still standing.
My balance is slightly off. I’m guessing I have a concussion. I briefly consider using the gun to end this quickly, but because no one is shooting, it will immediately draw attention, and I’m afraid Maddox will pay the price.
The passenger doors to the getaway truck are open, so I crawl into the back seat, avoiding a duffel bag that has partially fallen to the floorboard. I have to hold my breath. It reeks like stale cigarettes, body odor, and sycophancy.
“This motherfucker.” The guy chuckles on a call with someone. “He’s insane. Holding his own. And annihilating our guys.”
“Lund was fucking useless,” the deep voice on the other end returns. “Let Noire take down the rest. Then bring him to me. And find the girl.”
I hover behind the seat, able to see Maddox flipping off a truck in some sort of backward spin move. How the hell did he manage that? Maybe he isn’t very injured. That spark of hope fuels me to hurry.
I’ll get this one, Drac, since you’re handling the other dozen-plus.
“She can’t be far,” the getaway minion muses. “There’s nowhere to go. Still want them alive?”
“Shoot him if you have to,” the monster answers, “but don’t kill him. Or her. Hosting a Noire is special. I’m sending for Lund’s grandson too. We’ll make it memorable.”
“Royal treatment. I’m on it.” He finishes the call, his attention darting back to the battleground as grunts and bleats blare out into the night, harmonizing with the crackling sound of the automobile inferno.
Gripping my Karambit, I rise, hook it on the far side of his neck, and swipe the blade across his throat.
It’s a silent kill, but blood splashes out of him all over the steering wheel.
I climb over the seat, lean across him to open his door, brace my arms between the dashboard and the headrest, and kick him out with the heel of my boot.
It takes some effort, but he folds and flops and tumbles to the ground with a thump.
No one notices because they’re all fighting for their lives now.
Without hesitation, I slide into the driver’s seat and floor it. Other than Maddox, there are four still standing. If I’m lucky, I’ll take them all out in one hit.
My speed picks up quickly, and the engine roars my approach, but no one glances in my direction until I’m mere yards away. Because of the headlights blinding them, Makarov’s men must assume I’m the getaway driver coming for them. None of them move, which was the goal, so thrill surges through me.
But right before I make contact, I hear it. The blast that splits the night, sundering the hope that fueled me only moments ago.
They’re all so stunned that I barrel into three, and Maddox hurls a knife into the gut of the fourth. He staggers and tries to lob one in return, but fails miserably.
I suck in a deep breath. We did it. The truck bounces and judders over the bodies. Just to be sure, I throw it in reverse to drive over them again before I jump out to get Maddox.
He smiles, realizing it’s me as he drinks in the scene. “Badass, baby girl, but I told you to fucking run.”
Those vibrant eyes that have held so many things for me—protection and promises, acceptance and encouragement, lust and love—float to mine with sorrow.
And the world stills to the carnage and the fire and the eerie twilight-drenched trees, demanding I brand this snippet of time into my brain because it will forever change me.
Maddox is clutching his chest.
Panic throttles me, my throat threatening to close. I rush toward him. His hand is soaked in blood by the time I trek the ten steps to reach him. He wobbles, gripping on to me. I’m afraid he’ll pass out, so I corral him to the passenger door and shove him inside.
When I rip open his shirt, there’s so much blood; I can’t understand where it’s coming from. It’s everywhere, pouring out of him. I try to wipe some of it away, and I find some cuts and lacerations and one deeper stab wound, but then I see a darker round spot on his right pec. My gut wrenches.
“Home, Tess.” He croaks that out, his eyes hooded and resigned, ready to succumb to whatever force is yanking him to another place.
“Don’t you fucking do that, Maddox.” I slap his cheek to keep him with me, but mid-scolding, I hear the faint rustling crunch of gravel. Plucking the pistol from my pocket, I turn and shoot a man crawling toward us in the head.
That awakens Maddox. He coughs and splutters through a crimson grin, but he can’t seem to speak, and his eyes are brimming with terror. He wheezes, and the chest wound bubbles.
I call Axel, barely keeping myself together.
“I’m here,” he answers.
“He’s been stabbed and shot. There’s so much blood. I think I’m—”
“What are the injuries?” he cuts me off, stoic as always.
I briefly mention that he has some lacerations, but I concentrate on the bullet that is likely in his lungs.
“Is the wound hissing or gurgling? Bubbling?” another voice asks.
“There are bubbles,” I confirm, tears sliding down my cheeks. “And a wheezing sound.”
“Okay. This is Wells. You’re doing great, Tessa, but we need to patch it. Do you have tape? Your ID or a credit card?”
“I have my license. No tape. Wait.” I stop, remembering the bag in the back seat. I swing open the back door, rummaging through the contents, not finding anything useful until … “Duct tape.”
“That’ll do,” he says. “Wipe the wound off as best you can. Then apply some pressure, place your license over top of it, and tape only three sides. Say everything out loud as you’re doing it.”
They wait while I comply, dumping the contents of my purse—makeup, phone, wallet—onto the seat beside Maddox and extracting my license.
“I got my ID.” I ruck up my dress and use the inside of my skirt to dab some of the blood. “I’m wiping off the wound and applying pressure.”
“Good, Tess,” Axel says. “You’re doing so good.”
Placing my license over the bubbling hole, I rip off three small pieces of tape. “Does it matter which side I don’t tape?”
“Nope,” Wells answers. “You’re creating a flutter valve, so air can exit but not enter.”
“Done,” I announce with a muffled sob because Maddox is sallow.
“Good. Now get him to La Lune Noire as quickly as you can,” Axel orders. “You aren’t far.”
I shut the door, dash to the other side, and slip behind the steering wheel. “He’s drifting out of consciousness. I’m losing him. What if—”
“Just drive.” Axel’s commanding tenor unveils the cracks in his generally controlled veneer. He’s terrified and desperate. “The guys are too far away for you to wait.”
“We’ll stay on the line,” Wells adds. “Looks like you’ve got about nine minutes.”
“Okay.” I step on the gas and speed toward home, though I don’t know these back roads very well, so I have to pull up the directions on the phone, which reminds me of another detail.
“I’m in someone else’s truck. There were at least a dozen bodies back there.
A car on fire. Our SUV. What if they track us or if—”
“We’re on it, Tess,” Axel practically coos—a gentle command to stay focused.
Since I feel so helpless, driving Maddox instead of holding him, I do the only thing I can think of to help the man who’s become my whole world while we race toward home.
“We need theme music, don’t we, Mad?” Tears stream down my cheeks, and my heart is lodged in my throat, but I force strength into my tone. “Siri, play ‘Every Breath You Take’ by The Police.”
Axel barks out a laugh. “Fucking perfect.”
And as the first notes blare from my phone, lying on the seat, even though it’s clear Maddox is barely hanging on, I swear his lips twitch.
Hold on, baby. Please don’t leave me. I love you.
Axel clears his throat, likely as choked up as I am. “You’re doing everything you need to do.”
I peer between Maddox and the road. What if it isn’t enough?