Chapter 31 Briar
brIAR
The second we step back onto the main floor of the laundromat, Bensen’s shouting, “Move, move, move!”
John’s voice sharply follows. “Get on the ground, keep your hands where I can see them.”
They’re pointing assault rifles at us and quickly secure Callum. It’s all too easy, don’t they see?
The rapid beats of my heart drum through my ears as one of the guys grabs my arm roughly and pushes me to the floor beside Callum. They’re treating me just like him.
I stare hollowly at the floor. Some small, ignorant part of me still believes that they’ll see the truth.
Callum laughs and licks his lips. “Which one is Roman? You’re in charge, right?
Oh, our sweet Chloe told us all about you.
She got in your head, didn’t she?” I flash Callum a mortified look before snapping my eyes at the masked soldier leaning against the far wall, watching all of this unfold.
His arms are crossed, and he has an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Yes, she did,” Roman states, sounding completely devoid of emotion. It hits me like a bullet.
“Too bad you have to take me in alive. But what about our Chloe?” Callum pushes him further. It makes my stomach turn. What’s he trying to do by provoking him?
Roman pushes off the wall and walks over to us until he’s standing a few feet away. I can’t see his face past his helmet, but I can hear the hatred in his voice as he says, “Our orders are to terminate her.”
My pupils dilate, and all I can do is stare up at him.
I don’t know what he sees in my expression, but it feels a lot like being buried alive.
I can’t fucking breathe, because I know he’s not lying.
Roman said he always follows orders no matter what—no matter who is in his way, even if that person is me.
Callum is about to goad him more when a huge explosion shakes the ground and shatters all the laundromat’s windows. It’s so loud that I can’t even hear my own scream.
Smoke and dust hit the back of my throat instantly. I try opening my eyes, but it’s hard to see anything through the cloud of debris.
If I don’t escape right fucking now, this place will be my grave. Roman is going to tie up the loose end: me.
My heart pounds as I crawl over shattered glass and rocks. I know they are piercing my skin, but I can’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. Shouting ensues, and a few of Callum’s men rush by me, unsuspecting that I’m making a break for it.
My throat burns as if it’s on fire, and tears sting my eyes, but I hold in my coughs the best I can and head toward the closest broken window.
Someone grabs my ankle and I gasp, kicking and looking over my shoulder. My eyes meet Roman’s. His helmet’s glass is broken, and there’s blood trickling over the arch of his nose.
The same fear I felt the night Callum tried to kill me resurfaces. The adrenaline rushes through my veins and makes every cell in my body scream to get as far away from him as possible—from both of them.
I kick him again and knock his hand off my ankle. My knees are bleeding and my legs are stiff, but if I’m injured I don’t feel it yet. I need to use this time to survive. I force myself to my feet and limp as hard as I can to get away.
“Briar!” Roman shouts. He sounds angry—not desperate for me not to leave or to protect me like he promised.
He grunts as someone comes down on him. I look for only long enough to see Callum attacking him with a KA-BAR.
The two struggle on the ground, and it’s the last I see of them before I turn a corner.
Tears cut through the dust and blood on my cheeks, tasting bitter when they reach my lips.
The second I break free from the building, all other sounds start to hit me. Men shouting, gunfire, and the clinking of metal in close combat. My heart races, and I go in the direction that has the least amount of fighting.
I don’t realize I’m being followed until I reach the edge of the field where there’s less smoke, and weeds rustle behind me.
My hand flies to my waist, where Icarus at least left me a knife to protect myself. I unsheathe it and clench it tightly. I’m wishing I would’ve listened to Taylor and practiced more with it and not just focused on shooting.
I turn sharply and come face-to-face with a huge man in tactical gear. It’s not like Icarus’s, where it’s more tailored to look like motorcyclist gear; this guy looks like a SWAT officer mixed with military. He’s at least six feet tall and muscular beyond all reason.
A terrified scream tears from my throat when I see him. He’s made of nightmares, and there’s no mercy in his eyes. He must work for the underworld, whoever Callum works for.
I run as fast as I can and try to put distance between me and the Sub-Rosa soldier. But with my limp and the length of his stride, he swallows up the space I manage to achieve in four steps.
He strikes with his knife, cutting the back of my shoulder blade, and the force of his attack sends me straight to the ground. I gasp from the pressure that spreads over my back. Holy shit, the vest saved my life.
I roll to my back quickly before he comes down on me. I try stabbing him in the throat, but the knife only nicks the fleshy part of his neck just beneath his Adam’s apple. He wraps his gloved hand around the blade and tears it from my hand, tossing it into the weeds.
Panic takes over, and I try thrashing as hard as I can to get out from beneath him. But it’s futile. This guy must weigh at least two hundred and fifty pounds.
“Stop fighting. It’ll be quick,” he says with a laugh as he pins my throat down with his palm and raises his other arm for a fatal thrust of his knife.
My hands are wrapped around his wrist, and as I stare up at the fire that reflects off the sheen of his blade, time seems to slow.
No one is coming to save me.
No one is coming.
I’ll be damned if I let myself fucking die like this. I bury my heels in the ground and twist my body with all my force, knocking his hand off my throat. I inhale sharply and take advantage of his moment of confusion, pushing myself up to my hands and knees and knocking him off balance.
Fire wells in my chest as I grab my KA-BAR and sprint back into the thick smoke and gunfire. I don’t stand a chance against this guy without some other advantages.
I don’t make it ten steps into the smoke before I trip over a body and eat shit.
There’s no time to think about the morality of any of this.
I quickly pat it down for a weapon and find a handgun in the man’s hands.
He doesn’t fight when I pull it away, so it’s safe to say he’s probably dead.
I don’t look at his face or pay attention to his uniform.
Whoever it is, it doesn’t matter.
Not if I want to live.
This is who I have become. I check to make sure the safety is off and eject the ammo pack swiftly—three bullets. It’ll have to do. I smack it back in and cock it.
The soldier comes after me full bore. I fall back on my ass just fast enough to evade his knife. It goes straight into the chest of the dead body. The man looks into my eyes, seeming to realize his mistake as his eyes shift to what’s in my hand.
He’s a person… But it’s him or me.
I don’t hesitate. The muzzle of the gun is lined up with his head in less than a second, and I pull the trigger without blinking. The moment the bullet leaves the gun a different face flashes in front of me—the face is gone in a matter of seconds, and it’s the Sub-Rosa soldier once more.
His blood splatters everywhere. My eyes are wide, and even though the smoke burns them, I can’t look away from what I’ve done.
My hands tremble, and I drop the gun. I stare into his vacant eyes for a few seconds before I come back into myself and a gasp escapes my throat. I quickly push myself across the pavement a few feet.
The smoke clears, and the bullets and shouts slow.
I can’t bring myself to look up as footsteps approach. My mind feels broken.
I killed someone.
“Chloe.” Callum’s voice is calm, as if nothing at all has happened. His hand wraps around my jaw, and he guides my face to look up at him. His face is half crimson, coated in blood as if someone threw a bucket of paint over him. But those blue eyes are gentle and seem like he’s satisfied with me.
The face of evil.
My eyes are dry, yet I don’t blink as he leans down to wipe something wet from my lower lip.
“Come now. It’s done.” He offers his hand.
Tears spill from my eyes as I take it and struggle to stand. I’m only now realizing how injured I am. Shards of glass are stuck in my knees and palms. The bottom of my left foot is soaking wet and warm, which means I must’ve stepped on glass or a nail.
I swallow the knot in my throat and let Callum lift me in his arms. Is he going to kill me? I wonder as I stare at his sharp features, defined by the flickering firelight.
“Where are the others?” I whisper, letting my eyes fall back to my torn-up hands so I don’t have to look at the dead bodies Callum steps over as he walks me back into the laundromat.
He chuckles. “Did you think I’d just kill them? That’s not how you get a message across very effectively. I’ve learned that much,” he says with an amused tone.
I’m not sure how to process the warmth that dances in my chest at his words. Roman is alive… Everyone is still alive then. At least, I hope.
Only once we’re in the center of the room where the washers and dryers are covered in debris do I let my gaze move to the ground. All five of them are gagged, their arms tied behind their backs. At least twenty men stand behind them, holding assault rifles and decked out in tactical gear.
They never stood a chance at capturing Callum. Not with this many men at his disposal.
Roman’s eyes are filled with loathing unlike I’ve ever seen before. His face is smeared in blood, and his brows are firmly pinched together.
Why is he looking at me like that? My jaw flexes.
They’re all looking at me like that.
Callum sets me down gently and nods to Grahm. “Ungag Roman.”
Grahm does as he’s told, forcing Roman to his feet before he pulls down his gag.
“Fuck off, Sutherland,” Roman snaps at him. Grahm smirks but keeps his hand firmly around Roman’s bound wrists.
“I have a message for your general.” Callum grasps the cowl of Roman’s jacket and gets a few inches from his face. Roman’s jaw feathers, and he bares his teeth. “Tell him that if he wants the key to Bane Falls’ gate into the underworld, all he has to do is ask.” His voice is ominous and cruel.
My leg gives out on me, and I fall to my knees. A pained groan slips from my mouth as the glass pushes farther into my body.
Roman’s eyes flick to me, but his expression is impassive.
“Tell your general of the Dark Forces that I know his game. I know what he really wants, so tell him to come here and ask for it himself.” Callum shoves Roman back and pats off the lieutenant’s jacket as if he’s right as rain now. “Off you go. Take this as a mercy. Oh, wait.”
Callum squats down next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders and tilts my jaw up so I have to look at Roman.
“Are you going to take Chloe with you? She helped you, didn’t she? You fucked her? Chloe doesn’t belong down here with devils. Take her with you. If you don’t, I’ll make sure she’s buried right this time around.”
I don’t like Callum’s tone. He makes it sound like he knows Roman won’t take me with him.
I hate that hope ignites in my heart.
I hate that I remember Roman’s promise to me.
I hate that my soul is on the verge of shattering as I wait for Roman to soften his gaze and help me up. To take me in his arms and carry me home with him. I want to curl up in bed next to him and let him hold me.
The silence in the room is thick like oil.
Roman looks at me for only a handful of seconds before he turns the other way, offering his hands to Grahm to untie him by walking over and standing in front of Grahm.
Callum nods at his men, and they untie the Icarus Squad.
I hold my breath as Roman leads them slowly out of the laundromat. Not one of them looks back at me or questions their lieutenant’s decision.
Roman sees how hurt I am. I know he does. He knows from what I’ve shared with him that Callum will likely kill me.
Does my blood mean nothing to him? Tears race down my expressionless face as I watch them leave.
You promised.