FORTY-EIGHT
JAMES
There are choices you agonize over, and then there are choices your heart made long before you were asked.
Two days, four hours, and thirteen fucking goddamn minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since the most infuriating woman to walk the earth made the drastic, bold, and dangerous decision to insert herself into Christopher Burnside’s world.
It’s clear now I’m burned. He’s known about my loyalties for some weeks, if not months, but he hasn’t yet made a move for the throne on account of him disappearing off the face of the earth with the woman I freaking love.
“Sit down,” Camryn demands. “You’re making me nervous.”
I’ve slept maybe two hours over the last forty-eight, but I’ve never been more clear in my intentions.
I growl low and take a seat in the chair opposite hers. We’re in one of my safe houses, but this time, it’s in New York—the last place Christopher was spotted, and the city he most often frequents after taking a victim.
“Tell me again what happened with the trackers,” I snap.
Camryn stays silent. She doesn’t need to go over it, really.
We already know, and she’s done placating me.
Two of the trackers were dropped in the parking lot, likely after Christopher searched her.
We found the third floating in a puddle of vomit about an hour from Kieran’s home.
It’s clear Stephanie swallowed it in the hopes of us following her.
Too bad throwing up fucked up that plan.
Every minute Stephanie’s missing is a ticking time bomb toward her death. I’ve resisted picking up the phone because right now Christopher thinks he has my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s sister, when what he really has is my heart—and I can’t reveal that.
Camryn’s phone lights up with Agent Thompson’s name. She swipes to answer it, putting it on speaker. Thank fuck.
“I got him,” he says.
My spine straightens. “Where?”
“New York, as we thought. I’m sending you the location where we’ve spotted him coming and going over the last few hours.”
Her phone dings with a message.
“Who’ve you told?” I demand, frowning at the familiar address as my guts clamp down. What the fuck?
“No one in the bureau. It’s off the books as discussed. I have backup, though. I can meet you there in forty minutes.”
Camryn nods, looking away from the address with it already in her memory. “Good. We’ll probably beat you there by ten.”
“Fifteen,” I mutter. “But whatever you do, don’t go in without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Thompson says. I’m grateful, but I can’t shake the dread skating down my spine when I think about where we’re going. How is he even there?
Thompson and Camryn talk a few details out before she snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Hey, earth to James. Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
I shove her hand away. “Because that address isn’t one he should even know. No one should.”
She furrows her brow, leaning in. “And why is that?”
“Because it’s Jonathan’s home. His real one.
The one you guys never knew about. The same one I torched after his death.
” I scrub my hands down my face. That house held too many memories, too many deaths, too much pain and suffering, which is why I burned it to the ground.
Christopher must have rebuilt it, and now Stephanie is trapped in that house of horrors.
It had been Jonathan’s private playground where he delighted in making women bleed, and now Christopher’s using it for the same goddamn thing.
“I have to wonder if…” My spine tingles. I almost don’t want to vocalize it, as if doing so will make it real. “If Christopher is gunning for the cult leader’s spot. He’s got to know I’m compromised by now, and he’s staking his claim by taking that house, telling everyone he’s top dog now.”
“That cult is going to crash and burn once he’s taken care of and we get Stephanie out. He can want to rule all he wants, but it’s not going to happen.”
I look up at Camryn. I’ve silently appreciated working with her all this time, but now? I’m fucking thrilled she’s on my side. Because she’s right—Christopher won’t be reigning over shit. He’ll be dead.
Camryn drives. It’s her fucking car, and I think she knows that if I were behind the wheel, we’d be going at least a hundred miles an hour.
In any case, she zooms through the back alleys and side streets, avoiding traffic lights and densely packed areas so that we reach Christopher’s little hideout twelve whole minutes before Agent Thompson arrives.
And he’s got a crew of ten guys who look like they terrify folks for a living along for the ride.
We gather in the van that Camryn has been using, and it’s a tight fit, but no one cares.
She’s parked it out of sight of the building to ensure Christopher doesn’t see us coming.
I pull out a massive piece of paper, the other side displaying the layout to Kieran’s house.
Now, I use it to sketch out the basic blueprint of the building waiting for us, provided he hasn’t changed the layout too much.
But if he’s gunning to take over the cult, then I’m willing to bet he’ll have built it back the way Jonathan had it originally.
“The main entrance is here, and we probably want one or two of you stationed there in case he tries to get away through the front.” I point to the back door of the house and then to the shed entrance that goes right to the basement.
“This is the rear entrance and basement access. We send men through both simultaneously. Quiet. I don’t want Christopher to know we’re there until it’s too late. ”
The men take in the information like trained professionals, and I take a modicum of comfort in that.
“I’m going to assume he’s holding the girls in the basement. I have no idea what changes he’s made to the house since I set fire to it, but it certainly looks better than it did the last time I saw it.”
Camryn puts her fingers on the middle of my drawing, and everyone looks at her. “Don’t do anything stupid and don’t risk the women he’s captured. They are our top priority. Teams of two, one focused on rescue, the other on capture. Understood?”
A chorus of yeses fills the van, and I clench my jaw. My priority is Stephanie and killing that motherfucker.
Camryn hands out earpieces, and we all put them in. “Call out if you spot any sign of Christopher or the girls.” There’s a beat, a moment of stillness before all hell breaks loose. Then Camryn says, “Let’s go.”
We’re out of the van in a flash, and I beeline for the back of the house to the basement entrance along with four other guys.
Camryn takes the front, leaving two outside the door with four more heading in with her.
Agent Thompson flanks off with two of the guys heading to the rear of the building with me, heading for the back door.
The basement entrance is locked, and we communicate as such, confirming over the comms that all the doors are. It doesn’t take long for the hired men with us to pick them. We lock eyes, silently counting down from three as we hear Camryn do it over the earpiece. On one, we all burst in.
I yank open the basement door and descend into darkness with two lethal mercenaries behind me.
We raise our guns, tracking the shadows in front of us, but I don’t risk putting on a light.
I don’t want to give away our position. The place has been renovated, and as we pass through the wider chamber we entered through, there’s a long hallway with doors on either side.
We check them, finding rooms with what can only be described as torture toys laid out on a table, a clean room which still has bloody water drying on the floor, and a room with security cameras.
I rush to the screen, scanning it for any sign of Christopher or Stephanie.
“Fuck.”
My backup slides up next to me, seeing what I’m seeing.
There’s a room somewhere deeper in the basement with six cells made of glass. I can see three girls in various states of destruction on one side, hardly moving, and then one in a cell on the other, a woman in a tattered pink dress.
“Stephanie.”
I’m moving before my brain catches up, sprinting down the hallway, hoping to find the room with the cells up ahead. My luck is good enough right now that I find it behind a solid metal door that has a small window in the center, allowing me to peek inside.
Christopher is somewhere in the house, but I can’t be concerned about that right now.
“Get this fucking door open,” I bark out.
The guy who’s clearly handy with locks jumps into action, but it takes too long, and several minutes pass before the goddamn door finally opens. I shove past him and right to the cell where Stephanie is slumped in a corner.
“Stephanie! Stephanie!”
I pound my fists on the glass, begging to see her move, and when she does, the relief that washes over me is almost enough to make me pass out.
But she’s in rough shape. Her dress is torn, her face battered and bruised, and her wrists are bleeding, something I attribute to the cuffs I mounted on the inside of the cell.
When she focuses on me, something that looks physically difficult, Stephanie’s swollen face lights up, and I want to scream.
“That fucking monster. I swear to God I’ll tear him to pieces for touching you.”
“James!” she cries, the sound broken and weak.
I’ve lost track of what the men with me are doing, and a low groan forces me to turn my head.
They’ve messed with the electric boxes near the door to the other cells, getting the other girls out.
The three of them can barely stand, one not at all, and they slump against the outside of the cell nearest the door as one of the guys turns around and starts fiddling with Stephanie’s lock.
“I’m getting you out of here. We’re leaving. You hear me?”
Stephanie nods, sobs breaking free. She breathes through them, staring straight into my eyes. She didn’t let him break her. She held on, and I love her more than words can say.
“I really hadn’t planned for company.” Shit. I snap my attention to the door. “It’s quite rude to just drop by without an invitation.”
Christopher stands with a knife to Camryn’s throat as he steps into the wide chamber. She glares at me, her fingers digging into the fucker’s arm.
“Let her go. You’re outnumbered. You can’t win this.” I stand between Christopher and the man working to unlock Stephanie’s cell.
“I don’t need to. I just need to hurt you, and now I know exactly how to do that.”
He reaches into his pocket while pressing the knife into Camryn’s throat, a trickle of blood appearing. He lifts a tiny black box and presses a button. Stephanie screams and collapses to the floor, her body writhing and twitching. The bastard’s shocking her.
I rush toward him, and Camryn hisses as he sinks the knife in deeper, making me stop short.
But then I hear the click. Stephanie’s cell is open.
I can go to her, or I can focus on Christopher.
I can tackle the fucker to the ground and hope Camryn is alright, or I can get Stephanie out of that damn cell and into my arms.
I don’t miss the poetic similarity to how I first met her.
The decision takes less than a second because I know what I’ll always choose. Her. I will always choose Stephanie.
Grabbing hold of the man who just unlocked her cell, I shove him toward Christopher and whisper, “Take him the fuck down.” I step into the cell and grit my teeth against the agonizing currents running up my legs.
I drag Stephanie into my arms and pull her out of the cell, where she slumps against me, clutching me with the pitiful strength she has left.
Camryn stomps on Christopher’s foot and drives her elbow into his middle. The knife clatters to the ground, and he shoves her hard with a roar. She falls, hitting the corner of a cell with her spine before crumpling in a heap.
A mercenary tackles Christopher, grabbing the box from his hands and tossing it to the floor before stomping on it, eliminating one of the threats.
But Christopher is quicker than he looks, and while he’s distracted with destroying the box, Christopher scoops up the knife and stabs him in the neck.
He falls to his knees, his hands clamped around the blood spurting through his fingers.
Christopher’s lips curl into a sneer, his gaze meeting me. “You stupid fucking—”
Camryn swipes her foot out, tripping him. He hits the ground, and she reaches into the holster strapped to her ankle, pulling out her backup gun. She levels it at him and pulls herself to her feet with a groan while he glares up at her with hatred brimming in his eyes.
“Don’t fucking move.” Camryn gestures her head at the door. “Get them out of here. Now!”
The remaining mercenary gathers up the girls and heads for the door, leaving the four of us behind—Camryn with her gun pointed at Christopher, and me with Stephanie in my arms. I lock eyes with him.
“You’re done. You’re not leaving here.” I’m content to leave the cleanup to Camryn.
I know she’ll do it because there’s no other path forward for scum like him.
I carry Stephanie toward the door, planning to get the hell out of this basement with her and go straight to a hospital.
“Wait.” Stephanie sounds hoarse, but I stop, brow furrowed as I look down at her. “Put me down.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“Put me down.” She says it more firmly, and I listen. After everything she’s been through, everything she’s done to get here, I listen to her.
I can see and hear the pain as she shuffles toward Camryn, but I don’t step in to help her. I can already tell this is something for her. Something that I can’t trample over by trying to swoop in and protect her.
Stephanie places her hand on the gun, imploring Camryn with her eyes to hand it over. After a moment, she does, and Stephanie palms the weapon while Christopher sneers, still so damned pleased with himself, even in the face of his destruction.
The seconds drag on as the woman I love wraps her fingers around the pistol and shakily approaches Christopher. She raises the gun, pointing it at his head. Even without good aim, she can’t miss from that distance.
“Are you really going to pull that trigger, sweetheart? Come on now. I think—” Christopher’s words end abruptly as Stephanie fires, the sound of the bullet going through the barrel ringing off the concrete walls.
I stare down at the small hole punched through the center of Christopher’s skull, and a quiet pride fills me. That’s my girl.
Stephanie hands Camryn the gun before turning to walk the short distance into my waiting arms. I lift her up once more and head toward the door, leaving this terrible place behind. Stephanie clings to me and murmurs, “Only you get to call me that.”