Roman
THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER
Something isn’t right.
I drag a hand over my face and lean back in my chair as my eyes drift toward the window and the last of the sunset bleeds through the glass.
The light stretches across the room in long, fading lines, catching on the crystal in my hand as the ice shifts with a clink.
I take another sip, letting the whiskey burn its way down my throat, but it does nothing to settle the unease sitting under my skin.
‘Run by Snow Patrol’ hums low through the surround sound. I’ve sat here for the last thirty minutes replaying the way Mum and Fae looked when I came home over and over in my head. I tried to ignore it. Tried to convince myself I was reading too much into nothing.
But I can’t.
I glance at my phone hoping that one of them has responded to my text, but I’m met with a blank screen yet again. I grit my teeth as I throw back the rest of my whiskey and stand to try and dispel this feeling crawling up my skin.
“Fuck this,” I growl to myself.
Fae doesn’t lie to me. My mum doesn’t lie to me. So why do I feel like they both lied to my face tonight? My feet match the beat of the song as I pace ten steps in each direction.
Think.
Where could they go that would set alarm bells ringing in my head? Am I really so unhinged that I can’t even trust my own family? My nostrils flare at the word family. It meant nothing to my own dad. Could I really trust that it means something to them too?
“Fuck this,” I spit again and stomp downstairs.
“Atlas!” I shout as I get to the lounge.
If I’m wrong, I’ll swear Atlas to secrecy. If I’m right and they are in trouble, I will never forgive myself for not helping them. They can both deal with my vitriol after we are home. Atlas lifts his head as I finally step fully into the lounge and he nods.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“Track Fae.”
“What? Why?” he splutters.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” I murmur.
His brows pull together before he leans forward, already reaching for the keyboard.
“What kind of feeling?”
“Something’s wrong. I can feel it.” I drag a breath through my nose, shaking my head once. “It’s the same as before. When she was taken. It feels exactly like that.”
His fingers move across his keyboard as I drop into the nearest chair.
The screen lights his face, and I force myself to stay still as he works, even though every instinct in me is screaming to move, to act, to do something other than sit here.
Seconds stretch into minutes and my whole body feels alive with nerves as I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from barking at Atlas to move faster.
“I’ve got them.”
My head snaps up.
“Where?” I demand harshly.
“That’s… not right.” Atlas’s expression shifts as he looks back at me.
“Where, Atlas,” I repeat through gritted teeth.
“The church.”
I frown as I process what he just said. Why the fuck would Fae and my mum go to the church? My stomach drops as I jump up off the sofa and run upstairs to change.
My fucking dad.
“Get the boys,” I shout, taking two stairs at a time.
By the time I hit the landing, the house is already shifting around me. Doors open and close. Footsteps echo. My pulse pounds as I run into my own room and dress in my dark combat clothes. I run downstairs breathlessly as Felix meets me by the front door.
“What’s happened?” Felix demands.
“They’re at the church.”
The silence is deafening as he stares at me blankly and I count to ten to stop from exploding at him.
“They were meant to be having food, Felix. THINK. Why the fuck would they be at the church?”
“Fuck,” Riggs mutters and I spin, pleased to see he’s ready.
The door almost falls off the hinges as I rip it open and spill out into the evening.
Riggs, Felix, Atlas and Victor follow, and I march over to Atlas’ van.
The air is cooler now as the sky slips into that dull grey-blue where the sun has dipped but darkness hasn’t fully settled.
It’s the worst kind of light. Too light, with not enough cover for what we’re about to do. But it doesn’t matter.
I’ll spend a lifetime in prison to protect my girls.
Fuck.
She’s pregnant. It’s not just my mum and her I need to be concerned about.
We pile into Atlas’ van as all the doors slam shut.
I jump into the driver’s seat as Felix sits next to me loading weapons.
Riggs is muttering something under his breath that sounds a lot like a prayer and a threat combined.
Victor checks his knife with the same calm precision he always does.
I hear Atlas put on a bulletproof vest and my eyes move back to him, surprised for a moment that he looks like he’s gearing up to come in.
“I’m coming in,” he says, and I nod as I focus back on my task.
I grip the wheel.
Hard.
“Tell me the fastest way,” I say.
“Straight through the high street, cut left at Morrisons, then—”
I’m already moving. The engine roars to life as I slam my foot down, the van’s tyres screeching against the road as we take off too fast for the street we’re on.
Houses blur past. Streetlights flicker on one by one.
Everything outside the car becomes irrelevant.
All I can see is the church. All I can hear is my dad taunting me.
All I can feel is that pulsing in my chest getting louder.
Too late.
Too late.
Too late—
“Roman,” Felix says sharply and I swerve around a bend before shooting him an apologetic look.
By the time the church comes into view, the sky has darkened just enough that shadows stretch longer across the ground, swallowing parts of the graveyard in uneven patches.
The building stands silent, exactly like it always has.
Except this time, it feels like a warning.
I slow the car before we reach the entrance, pulling it just far enough back to stay out of direct sight.
“Movement,” Victor says quietly.
I follow his gaze. Six men step out of the church like nothing is wrong. They are wearing all black and have bulletproof vests on. I recognise three of them and I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack with how hard I grind them.
He’s here.
What the fuck is Fae doing?
I turn to Felix and I see the same level of rage I feel reflected back.
“Let’s take one each,” Felix starts. “Roman, take two. You move quicker and have better training in weapons. Atlas—”
“I’m good,” Atlas barks. “I have trained in combat as well, you know.”
Felix nods as a heaviness settles over us.
We’ve been chasing my father for months and tonight it ends.
I look at each of my friends and a wave of gratitude flows through me.
I know they love my mum and Fae like their own, but they didn’t even question it.
I check the time. It took us fifteen minutes to get here, which is a record for everyone.
“No guns,” I say. “We don’t need witnesses.”
Riggs cracks his neck. “My favourite kind of party.”
Victor chuckles under his breath as I roll my own neck, letting the tension sitting there snap and shift before we push the doors open in near unison.
The sound feels sharp against my ears, but it disappears almost instantly into the hum of distant traffic and the low chorus of birds settling into the trees for the night.
We move without speaking.
All of our skills that are trained into us take over as we spread out across the gravel, and the headstones break up our path in uneven rows.
Some are tall enough to shield, others worn low with age, but every one of them becomes cover as we use the space to our advantage.
I spot a guard drifting toward the far edge of the church grounds, and I move toward him.
I cut across the grass, ducking beneath low branches.
He’s distracted, his head is tipped down, the glow of his phone lights up his face whilst his thumb scrolls lazily across the screen.
Idiot.
I’m on him before he even realises. My hand clamps over his mouth, dragging him back hard against me as his body jolts in surprise; the phone slips from his grip and hits the ground with a dull crack.
He tries to react, tries to twist, but I’m already moving.
My arm snakes around his neck, locking tight, and I shift my weight just enough…
There’s a sharp, sickening snap. It sounds like a twig breaking underneath our feet.
Every muscle in his body twitches before going rigid and the tension drains out of him instantly.
I lower him carefully to the ground as his head starts lolling at an unnatural angle.
I inhale deeply, hold it for ten, then let it out slowly as I scan the grounds.
Felix is already moving up ahead, stalking two guards along the edge of the church.
My feet move, cutting across the graveyard toward him and keeping low as I slip between headstones and broken patches of earth.
He catches me in his peripheral and stills before he dips his chin and gestures toward one of the guards.
I nod once and shift direction, angling toward the guard on the left and closing the distance with careful, measured steps.
Each step is placed to avoid sound, but the ground is more uneven here.
It’s damp and scattered with debris, and just as I reach him, my foot catches a loose branch.
It snaps beneath me, cutting clean through the quiet.
His head turns instantly.
For half a second, there’s confusion on his face and then instinct takes over.
His hand drops toward his waist, and I move at the same time, lunging forward.
My hand comes up to clamp over his mouth before he can shout, but he’s quicker than I anticipated.
His elbow drives back hard into my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs in a rough burst as he twists out of my grip.