Chapter 58
Raine
The butterflies in my stomach won’t quit multiplying. My gut is nothing but a butterfly catcher at this point. I’m a total ball of nerves. Am I fucking crazy? Getting dropped off like this in the middle of nowhere, late at night?
Maybe. Probably. Definitely. But I’ve always been a crazy bitch, and I’m not going to let a near-death experience change who I am at my core.
We’ve been driving for just shy of two hours before Carson pulls off the road and drives down a dark, rocky trail.
If I wasn’t an accomplished murderer, I’d be shitting myself.
There’s nothing out here except thick forest shrouded in complete darkness.
We didn’t speak much during the drive. Nothing more to say to each other, I guess. Finally, he pulls over.
“This is where I dropped him.”
“Thanks.” I gather my backpack up off the floor.
“Angel?”
I stop, hand on the door handle. I look over my shoulder and pin Carson with a glare. “Yeah?”
He drags his gaze down my body. It’s menacing in the way his eyes narrow and travel all the way down to my boots.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
Whatever.
I nod and exit. He’ll have to fucking find me first.
He does a U-turn, and I watch as the taillights disappear into the darkness.
I turn and scope out the area, boots crunching on the loose gravel and dirt.
I’m in the middle of a forest, it’s the middle of the night, and I have no idea where I’m going.
I check my phone. No service which doesn’t surprise me.
I decide the best course of action is to follow the trail deeper into the woods.
Even in the dead of night, under the moonlight, it’s beautiful and peaceful out here.
I wasn’t expecting to feel comfortable in such a deserted area.
Yet, I do. I’m breathing in the purest air, and a wave of gratefulness washes over me.
I’m alive. And free. I can’t help but smile.
It quickly falls from my face when I remember the reason why I’m alive and free.
I might be free, but the one person who could make this life worth all the pain isn’t free.
I need to find him. God, this is going to be like finding a fucking needle in a haystack.
I walk for ten minutes before I notice the road ends. Not ideal.
I close my eyes and listen.
Somewhere nearby, the soft sound of water lapping.
I follow the sound, walking off the track and deeper into the woods.
I push back the foliage and carefully step over fallen logs and rocks.
I’m not as fast as I normally would be, my recovery still impacting my usual abilities.
The trees begin to thin out, and finally, I see it.
A beautiful, silent lake. It takes my breath away.
It’s huge. Mist curls off the surface. It’s giving Friday the 13th, honestly.
My heart pounds as I walk down to the edge, my feet softly padding along the shore. I scope the area, and off in the distance, I see a beautiful sight. There’s a lakehouse on the bank, cloaked in darkness. This has to be Soren’s.
Please be here.
I pull the hood up over my head and hurriedly make my way towards the lakehouse.
***
The lakehouse was a lot further away than I anticipated. I’m desperate for water, my lungs burn, and my feet are sore. This is the most physical activity I’ve done in more than six weeks. I’ve probably overdone it. I hate to think how I’m going to feel tomorrow.
I approach the porch before I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind me.
“Don’t you fuckin’ move or I’ll blow your head clean off.”
My heartbeat races as I slowly raise my hands by my side, showing I’m not a threat.
“Turn around,” Soren commands. “Take off the hood. Slowly.”
Slowly, I turn and very carefully remove the black hood. My dark hair cascades down my shoulders, my chest rising and falling so rapidly I might pass out.
He freezes when he sees me. He doesn’t rush to me like I thought he would, and for one long second, I let myself be paralyzed by a horrible, vomit-inducing thought. Does he want to see me?
My teeth chatter from the cold (and from the nerves). “Soren.”
He blinks rapidly a few times, before the arm holding his gun drops to his side. He remains frozen, eyes locked on mine.
Slowly, I take a step towards him. Then another. Until I’m standing right in front of his beautiful face. I reach for his cheek and trace my thumb over the upside-down cross. I had to feel him, to let him know I'm really here and not a figment of his imagination.
The gun slips from his hand, hitting the forest ground with a thunk. He reaches for my face and cups my chin in his hands. His throat bobs. “Raine …”
I nod softly.
He exhales before he crashes his mouth on mine.
It’s desperate and wild, like we’re proving to each other that this reunion is really happening.
His hands are in my hair, then gripping my waist, lifting me like it’s the easiest thing to do in the world.
He carries me up the small set of stairs and onto the porch, kicking the door to the lakehouse open with his boot.
I think he broke the latch, but I don’t care, because he doesn’t care.
He strides into his house, lips fused to mine, and sets me down on the kitchen bench. He stands between my legs, breaks the kiss, and rests his forehead against mine. He sucks in deep breaths and braces his hands on the bench, either side of my hips.
For a long while, we stay like this. Forehead to forehead, just breathing each other in.
“I nearly fucking shot you,” he admits after a while, raising his eyes to meet mine. “Are you okay?”
“It’s okay.” I cradle his face in my hands. “I’m okay.”
He blows a relieved breath out of his parted lips. “How did you find me? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come here to kill you for trading your freedom for mine.”
He grins at me, but not in a happy way, more of a sad, tragic way.
Like when someone tries to lighten the mood at a funeral.
You know how there’s always someone who tries to make everyone feel better, proclaiming that the person you’re mourning lived a long, happy life.
But you don’t want to hear it because it doesn’t matter, does it?
Ultimately, that person is still fucking dead, and no amount of wry jokes or positive thinking will ever bring that person back to you.
“Why?” My voice cracks a little. “Why would you do that, Soren?”
His forehead creases as he stares at me, eyes wide and wrecked and so annoyingly beautiful it makes me want to kiss him and slap him simultaneously.
“You asked me once if people like us could change. I’d like to think I can.”
My chin wobbles, and a wretched tear spills over and free-falls down my face, followed by another. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
Soren wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “You deserve a life, Raine.”
I want to scream at him. What kind of life is it if the only person on this godforsaken planet I can stand leaves me? And not only leaves me, but is now chained to an organization I am about to declare war on. Which, ironically, kind of makes him my enemy now.
“You left me.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
He searches my face, and god, he is handsome.
Even if he is a little worn thin. There are shadows beneath his eyes, like he’s not slept properly in weeks.
Maybe he hasn’t. What he’s done, what he’s seen …
trauma like that follows you around, crawls inside of you like a parasite and festers.
It scars us all eventually. Even tough motherfuckers like him.
“You sacrificed your freedom,” I whisper, my throat burning. “Your whole life. For mine.”
“I’d do it again.”
No. No, I obviously haven’t made myself clear. I’m not okay with his decision to trade his life for mine. And I’m definitely not okay with his stupid break-up note. In fact, I’m completely out of my head about it.
I slam both hands against his chest and shove him hard enough that he stumbles back a step.
“You left me a fucking note?”
He lets me bathe in my psychotic break for a moment, before he steps toward me again.
I shove him harder this time, my palms slapping against solid muscle.
“A note, Soren?” My voice raises an octave. “That’s what I got? After everything? After you slaughter a bunch of men, blow our cover, trade your life for mine? You write me a fucking note?”
He comes at me a third time, all alpha male and stubborn.
And I expect this, because he is him, and I am me, and maybe we were always going to destroy each other this way.
Before I can shove him again, his hands catch my wrists and drag them against his chest, holding them there.
My pulse has a fucking riot beneath his palms.
“You can hate me for it,” he says, low and broken.
“You can shove me, scream at me, curse me until your voice gives out. Spit on my grave, if that’s what you need.
” His grip flexes, his eyes burning into mine.
“But I would do it again. Again and again, a thousand more times. If it meant you lived, I’d sacrifice myself every fucking time. ”
My eyes sting. God, I want to hit him. Punch him in his mouth, kick him in the throat for making such a fucked-up decision. I want to punish him for loving me like that. I want to fall to my knees and scream.
“But why did you leave?” I hate how meek I sound.
Soren drags a hand over his face. “O threatened me. Said if I didn’t agree to a certain condition that he wouldn’t do the trade.”
My gut drops. “What was the condition?”
His eyes lock on mine. “To never see you again.”
My chest hollows out because I know exactly what that means. O will be watching, lurking, finding a way to ensure Soren doesn’t break the one rule imposed on him.
I let my eyes fall closed. “Why would you agree to something so stupid, Soren?”
“Because I fucking love you, Raine!”
My eyes snap open at the sound of Soren's raised voice.