Chapter Thirteen
TOREN
“I'm not leaving you here on your own!” Harper's scream tears through me like a blade.
I flick my gaze over her shoulder to Pope. He reads the desperation in my eyes and steps forward, grabbing Harper before she can protest further.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” She fights him with everything she has, thrashing and clawing as he begins dragging her toward the door.
Guilt crushes my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I know Xaden will use her against me and I can't let that happen. I may be faking confidence with him, but my facade will crumble the moment he touches my friend.
I can't allow that.
Nova, Tate, Vivian, Pope, Vatican, Omen, and Halo are all heading back to the safe house. Harper is still kicking and screaming as Pope wrestles her into the car, her cries echoing in the night air.
I urged Carnage to leave too. Begged him not to come. But he refused.
And now he won't leave with the others.
Once the car disappears into the darkness, I head around back to meet the rest of them. They're positioned a safe distance from the house—far enough that we won't be harmed when the time comes.
Alex, Carnage, and the Filthy Few stand in formation with seven of Xaden's men on their knees before them, arms bound behind their backs.
Vox, Ezekiel, Archer, and Hayze wear their masks.
The sight sends ice down my spine.
All four masks share the same base design, wooden, carved, satanic looking. Worn with all-black clothing, they're deliberately designed to inspire terror. The intricate carvings give them a dark, ritualistic aura that's far more sinister than any Halloween costume.
Each mask is distinguished by the number and placement of its horns and flecks of color in the wood grain.
Vox—two horns, flecks of blue through the wood.
Ezekiel—right horn, flecks of gray through the wood.
Archer—no horns, darker brown flecks throughout.
Hayze—left horn, green flecks through the wood.
Seeing all four standing side by side is fucking eerie.
All four masks are fitted with voice distorters. The only reason I can tell them apart is because Vivi and Nova warned me beforehand.
I know they've been ordered never to wear these masks again—Deputy Director Fiona fucking Williams threatened them with prison if they did.
We have a plan for that bitch.
Xaden is part of that plan. He just doesn't know it yet.
I claim my spot beside Carnage. He reaches over and clasps my hand, interlocking his fingers through mine. The gesture is grounding, protective.
I look up at my friend and offer a small smile. I can see the pain and exhaustion carved into his features, but he tries to hide it. He shouldn't be here, his injuries from the ambush are still healing but none of us could make him stay away.
Not even his twin.
“He's going to come in guns blazing,” Alex announces to the group. “He's too angry to focus. Use that to our advantage.”
“Xaden is calculated,” I counter, my voice tight.
“No man is ever calculated when it comes to their blind spot,” Alex volleys back.
“He doesn't have one.” The warning in my voice is clear.
“Neither did I.” Alex's tone softens slightly. “Now I have a huge blind spot that goes by the name of Tatum.”
Hearing Alex speak so freely about Tate makes my heart warm despite everything. If a man like him is able to love so honestly, why can't—
I shut down that train of thought before it can fully form.
“Incoming,” Carnage utters quietly.
I look up at him and quirk a brow in question.
“We have men scattered around here and on all the roads. They aren't in eyesight because that would be a show of force.”
My jaw drops. “You—”
“This way, we have a chance to speak to the little shit,” one of the Filthy Few cuts in.
I snap my head around and shoot them a glare. “That little shit has lost everything. Cut him some damn slack!”
The words burst out before I can stop them. I instantly cringe.
“Everyone has lost someone,” Vox says, his voice distorted through the mask but no less firm. “Quit thinking of him as a person, Toren. He's just a guy who's coming after you. Nothing more. Get the intel and we're out.”
I deflate at his words.
He's right. I know he's right.
“Okay,” I mutter, just as the sound of approaching vehicles hits our ears.
I begin to tremble without meaning to. Carnage squeezes my hand.
“Head up, queen.” His voice is low, steady, anchoring. “You got this. I'm right here with you. Nothing will ever touch you as long as I'm at your side.”
His reassurance bolsters my strength, but facing Xaden is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done.
Talking to him on the phone is easy, I don't have to look into those devastating gray eyes. But face to face? That's a whole other level of misery.
I take a second to center myself, blocking out all the noise around me and focusing on my breathing.
You have the strength of a lioness.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I hear Emery's voice in my head—warm, encouraging, eternal.
The smile falls when I register the sound of guns cocking.
I blink my eyes open slowly and take in the sight of armed men standing before us, weapons aimed at each of us. We're outnumbered in this setting. I don't need to scan their faces to know he isn't among them.
Suddenly I feel it, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, my stomach swoops, and my skin prickles with awareness.
I feel his aura before I even see him.
Xaden stalks toward us with a swagger only he can pull off. Shadows still cling to him like armor, like they're part of his DNA.
The sight of him steals my breath.
His black hair is a tousled mess like he's been running his hands through it in frustration. His gray eyes are alight with fury and locked directly onto me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
He doesn't dress for wealth or appearance. He's wearing his Stormsend Ravens hoodie and dark wash jeans, plain clothes that do nothing to hide the power simmering beneath the surface.
He may dress like a regular person, but he's anything but regular.
He's an enigma.
An idea people think about but never have the wit or courage to pursue. He doesn't need designer clothes or expensive watches to command attention, it's natural for him.
Xaden doesn't even glance at his men kneeling in the dirt. He pushes past them without acknowledgment.
I fight not to tense. Carnage's grip on my hand tightens.
I brace for him to come straight to me but he shocks me when he stops in front of Carnage instead.
Then, in one swift movement so fast I barely register it, he pulls a gun from his waistband and presses the barrel directly into my friend's chest.
I open my mouth to scream—to say anything—but Carnage tightens his hold on my hand, silencing me.
Alex and the others say nothing. They stand still and unmoving, acting like being held at gunpoint is a normal occurrence.
From their reactions, I'm starting to think it is.
I look between Xaden and Carnage. Neither has uttered a word, but the way they're staring at each other suggests a silent conversation is transpiring, one no one else is privy to.
“The location of her brother is the price,” Xaden says in a tone that chills me to the bone.
Carnage continues to stare at him for a long moment, making me think he isn't going to answer.
“That information isn't mine to give.”
“Yet you stand here holding her hand like you're her protector.” The anger in Xaden's icy tone is palpable.
A small part of me wants to remove my hand from Carnage's, but the other half wants to tell Xaden to kiss my ass. He's made it crystal clear I'm nothing to him. If I want to hold my friend's hand, I can.
“Is it information you want, or…” Carnage lets the sentence trail off as he dips his head forward. “Her?”
Xaden bares his teeth and pushes the gun harder into Carnage's chest. My friend looks unaffected to anyone who doesn't know him but I can see he's in pain and refusing to show it.
I won't let him struggle because of me.
“The fairy belongs to me.”
His claim over me serves to piss me off and makes my heart race in equal measure. I won't lie, hearing him claim me makes something giddy and desperate flutter in my chest.
But he doesn't mean it the way I want him to.
He's claiming me out of spite. Not out of love or devotion.
“I belong to no one,” I grit out.
Fury explodes inside me when Xaden flicks his eyes to me for a split second, then dismisses me completely, focusing back on Carnage like I'm not even a threat.
This bastard!
I tug my hand free from Carnage's hold and push between him and Xaden, plastering my back against Carnage's chest and forcing Xaden to shift his stance and step back.
His gun remains pointed at me now. The rage burning in his gray eyes heightens my own wrath.
We're toxic.
We feed the worst parts of each other and bring out each other's darkest impulses.
“Tor—”
I cut Carnage off before he can finish. “This is between me and you,” I tell Xaden. “No one else needs to get hurt.”
“Oh, you'll fucking hurt alright,” he vows, his voice dripping with dark promise.
“I'm right here, Xaden.” My voice is steady despite the fear crawling up my spine. “You can take the shot and end it all. Slice my lips from my face and hang them above your bed as a trophy. Or you can listen to what I have to say—”
“All you speak is bullshit!” he roars.
I press back into Carnage and he grips my waist in his hands, anchoring me to him.
The second Xaden registers the protective gesture, everything shifts.
As if Caspian can read his friend's intentions, he moves but not fast enough.
Xaden lifts his gun a couple inches so it's in line with my head. I watch in slow motion as his finger shifts to the trigger.
Carnage tenses behind me and shifts like he's about to push me aside and take the shot for me.
Caspian darts forward.
Carnage shoves me to the side.
A shot rings out, shattering the night and disrupting the fragile tension in the air.
And for one horrible, endless moment, I don't know who's been hit.