Chapter 8 #2
His tension eases again with a quiet chuckle. “Little menace?”
I bite my lip to keep my grin from getting too big. “That’s better.”
Okay, so, yeah…I definitely have it.
Turns out I’d leave everything behind for him.
I shrug. “And I know. I don’t care.”
“You know it’s Stockholm syndrome?”
“I figured it out the other day. I mean, I’ve never had it as far as I know, so I don’t exactly have a frame of reference. But…yeah. Spending time with you out there is kind of the only thing that’s been keeping me sane. I don’t…”
I know how ridiculous I sound, how attached I’ve become in such a short amount of time. But I can’t stop it, nor do I care to.
It feels inevitable.
“I don’t want to be apart from you. I don’t think I’d…be okay.”
He shakes his head, looking too sad for my liking. “It’s not real, Cason.”
“You know what is real?” I smile, hoping it’ll be contagious. “The way I don’t hate it anymore when you say my name.”
I think it works. His lips tip up at the corner.
“Is that so? Well, if it is Stockholm syndrome…” That hint of a smile turns into a sinfully sexy smirk as he trails a finger down the column of my throat. “What all could I make you do for me?”
“Probably just about anything.”
His gaze dips to my mouth, and his thumb comes up to brush along my bottom one. “I’ve never kissed a man before.”
My breath hitches.
“That’s tragic,” I whisper. “We should fix that.”
He hesitates, just for a second. Then his hand tightens on my hip while the other moves to the side of my neck.
I lean in.
Our lips meet.
They touch.
It’s the best half second of my life.
But that’s all it is before the world explodes.
A deafening blast rips through the basement. The door at the top of the stairs shatters inward with a violent crash that rattles the walls and sends dust raining from the ceiling.
I jerk back, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Reese’s head snaps toward the sound and the shouting voices.
Just like that, we’re out of time.
I scramble off Reese’s lap so fast my foot catches on the edge of the mattress and I almost go down. The world tips sideways, adrenaline pounding through my veins, the boom of the blast still vibrating in my bones and ringing in my ears.
Reese moves too, snatching his gun off the bed, the motion smooth, automatic. Muscle memory. Survival.
“Stay here.”
As if I’d listen.
He’s already out the door before I feel like I’m steady enough to move. But I’m only a few steps behind, barefoot on concrete, heart in my throat. My lungs burn like I’ve been running for miles even though it’s only been seconds.
A crack splits the air.
Reese jerks like someone yanked a string attached to his shoulders. He stumbles. The gun falls from his hand and clatters on the floor.
“Reese!”
His knees hit the concrete.
Red blooms on the front of his shirt.
There’s blood.
Too much blood.
He falls to the ground, and it spreads dark and fast beneath him. For half a second, I can’t move. Because it doesn’t make sense. This wasn’t part of the plan. We were…
We were going to run.
My bare feet slap against the cold ground as I bolt out of the room. I don’t remember deciding to. My vision tunnels down to him and nothing else.
“Reese,” I choke, dropping to my knees beside him.
My hands press against his chest, like if I apply enough pressure, I can reverse what just happened. My palms slide in blood. It’s hot. It’s everywhere. It’s on his shirt, on my skin, on the floor.
“No, no, no, no—”
The words tumble out, useless and frantic. My cheeks are wet, and Reese’s face swims in a blur of tears.
“Stay with me,” I manage to push out past a sob. “Stay with me, okay?”
His eyes find mine, and that’s worse.
He’s still here. He’s still in there.
But I don’t know for how long.
“You don’t get to die. You hear me? You—”
Hands grab me.
I fight.
I don’t even know who they belong to, just that they’re pulling me away from him. I claw at the floor, at his shirt, at anything I can reach.
“No! Get off!”
Someone shouts. More footsteps. Boots. Voices overlapping.
“Clear the area.”
“Target down.”
“Get him out of here.”
Target.
They’re talking about him.
They’re talking about Reese as if he’s not a person.
He’s not the enemy. As far as I’m concerned, the men dragging me away from him are the enemy.
“I’m not leaving him!” My screams shred my throat. “Let me go! He needs—”
I don’t even know what he needs. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to fix anything.
They wrench me backward so hard my shoulders pop. I try to pry their hands away, smearing Reese’s blood everywhere. I try to dig my heels into the floor, but I’m barefoot and shaking and weak from nearly a month of captivity.
“Reese!”
His gaze never leaves mine, and that’s what will ruin me. Not the blood, not the gunshot.
His eyes.
Silver like the bullet that took him away from me.
I think I see my name on his lips, then someone blocks my view.
The world, which had felt slow and stretched for weeks, suddenly snaps forward like someone hit a button on the remote. Too many hands on me. Too much shouting. Too-bright lights. More gunshots, maybe. Or maybe it’s just my ears still ringing.
Someone throws a blanket around me.
Someone says, “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
A sound cuts through everything. High-pitched, constant. Flat.
It doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t belong anywhere. But it’s suddenly everywhere, drilling into my skull, replacing the gunshot, replacing the shouting.
The tone stretches and stretches and stretches.
I don’t know if it’s real or just in my head.
All I know is that it means something is over.