Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OREN
Staring at the dumb dog who’d woken me in the early hours of the morning, I leaned against the doorframe as Prince relieved himself in the grass.
It’d taken him nearly thirty fucking minutes to decide where he wanted to go, and with Thorne asleep, I couldn’t scream at him to hurry up. Instead, I flipped him off, rolling my eyes as if it would ease the exhaustion threatening to topple me over.
Thorne and I had talked for hours, and while some parts were heated, he’d relinquished at least part of what he was struggling with.
While it wasn’t everything, pride swelled that I could break through even just a little bit.
I loved it when he talked to me about his feelings, because I wanted to be there for him in the way he was for me.
He was my partner, best friend, and the man I was completely in love with. He held me with grace and compassion when most would turn aside, especially when my judgment was clouded in anger. Most would walk away, but he always stayed, and it made me want to become a better person for him.
Much of my happiness had dwindled from the impact of the bullet and my father’s continued stain, but slowly, Thorne was brightening my world with each languid kiss and tender caress. He was the reason I breathed, and the reason I continued to push forward. Without him, I wouldn’t want to survive.
And despite all the horrors that continued, we had each other, a home, and two loving dogs, even if one of them loved to harass me.
Moonlight illuminated Prince’s prancing figure, and I beckoned him to come inside. “Come on, Prince. Please? I want to snuggle with Thorne,” I practically whined.
Me. Whining to a fucking dog.
Tongue flopping against his chin, he finally darted inside the house as I sighed in relief. “Thank you,” I muttered, gliding the door shut.
As if in annoyance, he barked, and I huffed, placing my hands on my hips. Staring at the cute fluff ball, my resolve cracked the moment he rolled onto his back, paws folding to his chest as he gave me those watery eyes.
Lips curling, I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading as I bent down to rub his tummy. Chuckling softly, I scratched his fur a few times before resting my hand on my thigh.
“Look at you being so adorable. Can’t you always be like this?”
Reaching down to pet him once more, Prince flipped over, paws digging into the ground as he barked loudly.
“Prince, what—”
Pain erupted as my head cracked back, breath catching in my throat. Fingers tangled in my curls as I clawed at the hand ripping me into a standing position.
A resounding bark came in reply to Prince—Mercy—its depth containing an irrefutable warning.
Nails scratched against tile, her descent down the stairs from the bedroom audible before she slid around the corner to sprint down the hallway toward me.
Growling heavily, she lunged, her jaws wrapping around the arm of whoever was attempting to harm me.
“Ah, fuck!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, his cries swallowed by her viciousness.
Heaving oxygen into my lungs, I tried to regain my bearings, but it was pointless as another set of hands grasped my locks. This time, the sharpened tip of a blade met my neck.
Sawing into my skin, pain bloomed, washing over me as I curled my palm around the intruder’s wrist. Holding him at bay, I barely managed to shout his name… always him.
“T-Thorne!”
As if on cue, with the shadows serving as his ally, a knife sank into the center of the perpetrator’s skull, his hold on me slackening as he hit the ground. Simultaneously, a large crack echoed through the kitchen, Mercy shaking her head with enough force to break the first infiltrator’s arm.
His scream permeated the night, half-crawling, half-scooting away from her with his good arm. Pressing his palm into the tile, he grunted with each forceful movement.
Pressing my hand against my throat, I pulled it away, crimson staining it as that agony only intensified. Locking my eyes onto Thorne, I tripped over my heels, nearly colliding with the couch from the fear blooming in my heart.
It wasn’t the damage this man had attempted to do to me, but the fact that it was in our home, where we… we were supposed to be safe.
Thorne stepped from the shadows, clad in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. Glower narrowing, he approached the man whom Mercy was still gnawing on, ordering her with one command to back away—vniz.
Was that… Russian?
She obeyed, rushing back to him as she tucked herself against his side.
With the gap ceasing, and the man’s back coming to meet the cupboard, his space to flee had become a haunting nothingness.
Fear billowed in his irises as Thorne towered over him, and the muscles layering Thorne’s back tensed in response, in hunger.
“Who the fuck sent you?”
The man raised his uninjured hand. “W-Wait…”
Thorne lifted his foot, driving his heel into the perpetrator’s knee, a resounding snap mixing with his diminishing patience. “Who the fuck sent you?!”
Thrashing in agony, his brown hair clung to his sweat-laden forehead. “God… I-I can’t…”
“That’s fine,” Thorne whispered as he bent down, curling his fingers around the collar of the man’s shirt. “We’ve got all fucking night.”
Ripping him from the ground, Thorne slammed the man’s face into the marble counter.
With a harsh tug, he forced him across its surface, only to stop once he reached the sink.
Where I figured he’d flip the water on, my stomach dropped when he did the complete opposite, his finger flicking the garbage disposal.
“I’ll ask again. Who the fuck sent you?”
A broken whimper escaped. “Please…” Heaving, the battered man tried to slip from his grip. “He’ll… He’ll hurt them.”
“Guess you don’t want to keep your good hand then.”
Snatching his arm from his side, Thorne forced it toward the awaiting blades. Fingers dipped beneath the black coating, and he paused briefly, driving his knee into the back of the infiltrator’s thigh.
“Last fucking chance, asshole. Who. Sent. You?”
“Stefan!” he screamed, tears mixing in with his wails. “S-Stefan ?or?evi?!”
A haunting smile painted Thorne’s features with a maliciousness I knew he harbored but had yet to witness. Humming, he dipped his chin, and his irises darkened to a nearing oak hue.
“Perfect.” With one shove, he forced the man’s hand into the disposal, flesh and blood squelching as its sharpened teeth tore his skin to gory ribbons.
His cries were innumerable, flooding our home with his agony as he tried to rip his appendage from the sink. Snot and saltwater coated his skin, face blanching as the blood loss consumed him.
Tearing into the man’s pocket, Thorne snagged his phone. “Password?”
As he rambled random numbers between heaves to Thorne, all I could do was watch. Scratching Mercy’s head, she rested next to me, either sensing my brewing panic attack or removing herself from the kitchen to let Thorne finish his work.
Flipping off the disposal, Thorne’s lips came to brush our infiltrator's ear. “And your name?”
“Garrett.”
“Great.” Tapping on the screen twice, he tossed the phone onto the counter, a sharp ring flooding through the space.
Almost immediately, the ring quieted, a gruff timbre answering. “You sever his head?”
A darkened laugh tumbled from the man I loved. “Did you really think infiltrating my home would be that easy?”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, Thorne Graves. But tell me, how’s that fiancé of yours? Trembling? Working his way to a panic attack?”
“I don’t think the nuances of the situation are any of your business.
You want to talk, Stefan? We can talk.” Shoving Garrett off the counter, he collapsed in a heap on the kitchen floor.
“Maybe we can discuss the fact that you’ll shit your pants as soon as you figure out who I’ve aligned with.
You know? That ex-best friend of yours that you fucked over? Oh, shit… what’s his name?”
This… This was Stefan? The man Liam had warned us about, the man responsible for his past and threatening my life?
Legs wobbling, I practically crashed into the ground, overcome with everything.
Mercy settled her head in my lap, Prince resting at my side, as I focused on breathing between their conversation.
Stefan snarled, the sound evident across the crackle of the phone. “Levander.”
“Mmm. Right. Levander.”
A pause.
I almost thought Thorne had beaten him with the mere mention of a name, but his voice rang through once more. “Send him, then. I already have everything I fucking want.”
“Not for long,” Throne crooned darkly. “And when you’re looking death in the eyes, I can’t wait to witness how you fucking cower like the pathetic piece of shit you are.”
“Sure, Thorne, but make sure to do me a favor. When Simon wakes up, tell him I’ve already fucked my little lamb twice.”
“Ever more the reason to castrate you.”
He laughed. “Pleasure—”
“In a vat of fucking acid.” Freeing the pistol from his waistband, he fired a round into Garrett’s head.
“You can continue to pretend you ride the high horse, but when you’re groveling at my feet and kissing my boots like the obedient bitch you truly are, then we can talk.
Power looks pathetic on pitiful men, and you are the very definition of such a disgrace. ”
Not giving him a chance to respond, Thorne ended the call.
Moving from where he stood, he dropped to a squat in front of me. Fingers raked through my hair as he gently grabbed my chin, turning my head to the side to examine the wound on my neck. Blowing out what sounded like a breath of relief, he returned my attention to him.
“You’re okay. It doesn’t need stitches.”
At the sound of his voice, my lip wobbled, a final blink releasing my tears. Wrapping my arms around him, I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck as I held him close.
His hold tightened, his hand coming to rest against the back of my head. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, dove. No one will ever hurt you. I promise. You’re safe.”
A broken sob released itself from my throat as I clung to him, breathing in his scent of forest pine.
Shoulders trembling, my emotions collided, not only from this encounter, but from the folders we’d collected, the mistakes I’d made, my father’s stain, and the bullet that almost took me from everything I loved.
“Y-You… okay?” It was barely a whisper, spoken through shuddered breaths.
“Yes,” he breathed against my cheek before planting a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “I’m okay. Enraged. But what’s new, right?”
Chuckling softly, I leaned into his touch. “Is it bad… that… that was hot?”
He laughed, scooping me into his arms as he stood up.
“No. I mean, probably. But that’s beside the point.
” Holding me close, he stepped over the lifeless bodies in our kitchen, the dogs following.
“I’m going to make a few calls, and then we need to go check on Simon.
Do you think you’ll be okay enough to go pack a bag for us? ”
“Alone?” Inhaling sharply, I held tighter, as if he’d rip himself from me.
“Okay, okay. I’ll come with.”
Securing his hold, he carried me upstairs.
Slowly lowering me to the bed, his pointer and middle fingers slipped beneath my chin.
His lips met mine with a slow, passionate kiss, one that spoke words he’d uttered to me a handful of times, carrying vows of our life together and promises we’d shared.
Holding the connection for a handful of seconds, he hesitantly pulled back, his irises transitioning back to their caramel hue.
“Do you trust me?”
“A-Always.”
“Then pack a bag. There is someone I think you need to meet.”