Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
MACKENZIE
T he expanse of woodland sprawls below me, the lights from the mansions in St Jude’s flickering against the ink-black sky. The railing beneath my hands is cold, grounding me, but it does nothing to steady the storm raging inside.
My mother. I should have known.
She’s back and sinking her claws into the one thing I would burn the world down to protect.
I can still hear Amelia’s voice in my head. I can still see her indifference to what my father was doing to me, and that same excuse for a human was now threatening my daughter. My daughter.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to control the violent pulse of rage in my veins. I don’t just want her dead. I want to carve her from existence, to wipe away every trace of her from this world so that she can never touch Gabriella, never haunt my life again.
The sound of the balcony door sliding open barely registers, but the soft click of heels against the floor draws my attention. Isabella steps up beside me, silent at first, her presence unintrusive. The wind tugs at strands of her golden hair.
“It’s okay to be human, you know,” she finally says, her voice calm, as if she’s reminding me of something I should have known all along.
I huff out a bitter breath. “Yeah? And where the hell has being human ever gotten me?”
She doesn’t flinch. “You think shutting down is going to make this easier? You think pushing away the people who want to help will keep Gabriella safe? I know why you’re out here, and maybe, I would do the same thing.”
“And what is that, Isabella?” I ask.
“Try to keep even more people I love out of the crossfire.”
Isabella and I have never been particularly close, she was after all the love of my best friend’s life, and I have been in love with my men in various stages of my life, but in those few words, I know she gets it.
My jaw clenches. “I never should have underestimated my mother. Not when I have something to lose.”
Isabella nods, her gaze never wavering. “This is not your fault.” She pauses, then leans slightly against the railing. “That’s the thing about people like her—they don’t stop until they get what they want, no matter the cost.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, low and sharp. “Yeah, well, I plan on making sure the cost is her life.”
Isabella’s lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t back down. “If you go at it alone, it won’t bring Gabriella back any faster, Kenzie. And it sure as hell won’t stop Amelia from pulling you into whatever game she’s playing.”
My hands curl into fists against the metal railing. “And what do you suggest?” I snap, the anger bubbling too close to the surface. “That I sit back and let the others handle this? That I trust someone else to make sure my kid is safe?”
Her gaze hardens. “I’m saying that walking into this blind, fueled by rage, is exactly what bitches like Amelia want. You think she didn’t plan for this? She knows you, Mackenzie. She knows how you react when she threatens what you love. You go straight for the kill.”
I shake my head, the frustration clawing at my insides. “She has my daughter. You of all people should get that!” The words scrape out of me, raw and aching.
“I know,” Isabella says softly, and for the first time, I see the flicker of something in her eyes. Understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but something deeper. “And that’s why you need to be smarter than her. You can’t just fight her, Mackenzie. You have to outplay her.”
The wind howls through the balcony, whipping my hair against my face as I exhale, slow and controlled. I hate that she’s right. I hate that, deep down, I already knew this. Amelia Yates has never been reckless. If she took Gabriella, it wasn’t just to hurt me. It was because she had a plan—one she expects me to react to exactly the way I am now.
I push off the railing, my muscles coiled tight, my mind running through every possibility, every way I could turn this on Amelia. “Then let’s go back inside,” I say, voice low and even.
Isabella follows me, her heels clicking against the floor, the only sound aside from the distant hum of traffic below. When we step inside, the atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. The low murmur of voices stops, all eyes turning to me.
Creed stands in the center of it all, his phone clutched so tightly in his hand I half expect it to shatter. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and determined. There’s fury simmering just beneath the surface, and it mirrors my own.
Flynn, Jenson, Eros, and Larken are huddled around the table, maps spread out before them, their faces set in cold calculation. They’ve already started working through the logistics, mapping out possible locations where Amelia could be keeping Gabriella.
But none of it matters. I know where she is. “She’s at the Yates mansion. It’s where she wants to meet. That's why Amelia told me to come home. She probably expects us to look everywhere else, but the place she told me to.”
Creed’s gaze flickers to me, and in that moment, nothing else exists. Just the two of us and the understanding that no matter how this ends, we are going to war.
And I’m going to make sure Amelia Yates never breathes another fucking breath.
* * *
In a few hours we move in on the Yates mansion. We have men stationed all around the property. For now, we’re supposed to be resting, refueling, but I can’t seem to get my mind to shut off.
“Can’t sleep?” Creed asks, walking out onto the balcony of Flynn’s guestroom. I don’t turn to look at him right away. My grip tightens on the railing as I focus on the sprawling estate below, bathed in the glow of the moon. The night is eerily quiet, like the universe itself is holding its breath for what’s about to happen.
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept easy when it comes to her,” I admit, my voice quieter than I expected.
Creed exhales, stepping behind me, his presence solid, grounding. He wraps his hands around me, and I can feel the weight of his gaze, studying me, waiting for me to crack open even the smallest piece of what’s running through my mind.
“Talk to me,” he says after a beat, voice low.
I scoff, shaking my head. “About what? About what a piece of shit mother I am? About how I gave my baby up for adoption without so much as a glance at her? I couldn’t you know – look at her, hold her. Because I knew that if I did, I’d never be able to let her go.”
Creed doesn’t say anything.
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of the pine trees lining the property.
“I didn’t want Gabriella to be tainted – not by me, not by that house.” There was never anything safe about that house. “And now she’s there, alone.”
“We’re going to get to her, Mackenzie.”
“If she’s working with Linc and Diego,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “She's been planning this for a long time. This isn’t just about revenge. She wants something.”
Creed kisses the top of my head. “Maybe. Or maybe she just wants to watch us burn for betraying her.”
I swallow hard. It’s a very real possibility. Amelia never needed a reason to make my life hell. Her existence is built on cruelty, on power plays, on the sick satisfaction of watching others crumble beneath her control.
The thought of Amelia anywhere near my daughter makes something dark unfurl inside me.
“We need to be prepared for anything,” I say, straightening. “We go in, we get Gabriella out, and we put a bullet in that woman’s skull before she has the chance to crawl back to whatever hell she came from.”
Creed’s jaw tightens. “Agreed.”
Silence stretches between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s the silence of two people who know exactly what needs to be done. Two people who understand that once we step into that house, there’s no going back.
He finally lets me go, stretching his shoulders. “You should still try to get some rest.”
I don’t bother arguing. We both know sleep isn’t coming for me tonight. Instead, I nod once, my fingers loosening from the railing.
“Come on,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I take it and follow him inside.
Creed closes the balcony doors behind us, sealing us inside a space that suddenly feels smaller, more intimate.
I should pull away, should let the exhaustion claim me even if sleep won’t, but the moment I turn to face him, I know that isn’t what I need.
I need him.
Not as an ally. Not as a soldier in this war we’re about to walk into. Just him. The man who has haunted me for as long as I can remember.
His eyes flicker with understanding before I even say a word. His fingers ghost over my arm, a touch so soft it shouldn’t be capable of unraveling me. But it does.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Creed’s jaw flexes, his hands coming up to cradle my face. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, his touch reverent, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. “You’re not,” he says.
And then he kisses me. It isn’t the kind of kiss we’ve shared before—filled with fire and desperation, with anger and the need to prove something. This one is slow, deliberate. His lips move against mine as if memorizing, as if making a promise.
I melt into him, my fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed, lowering me down as if I’m something fragile. But I’m not. I never have been. And neither is he.
His hands roam my body with aching tenderness, tracing paths he’s walked before, but this time, it’s different. There’s no rush, no rough edges. Just this. Just us.
He undresses me with a patience I didn’t think he had, his lips following the path of every inch he bares. My breath catches as he presses a kiss over my heart, lingering there like he’s trying to ground himself in my pulse.
“Creed,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair, guiding him back to my lips.
He groans against my mouth, pressing himself against me, skin to skin, heat to heat. When he finally sinks into me, it’s not with the urgency of past encounters. It’s with purpose. With meaning.
We move together, slow and steady, each touch, each kiss, each breath a silent vow.
For tonight, for this moment, nothing else exists. Not Amelia, not the looming war, not the blood that will inevitably be spilled.
Just this. Just him. Just me.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I can have this. Even if it’s only for a night.