Chapter Twenty Four, Lucky
This was it. This was how I was going to die. For real this time, not with me being dramatic.
Curled up in the middle of the bedroom, knife clutched in my shaking hand, I stared at the door, listening to the muffled voices outside.
Malivore paced beside me, her thick fur brushing against my legs, a low whine vibrating from her chest. My heart hammered in sync with the soft padding of her paws, every beat heightening my anxiety.
The room smelled faintly of pine from the forest outside, but it didn’t do a damn thing to calm my nerves, which had been growing since my men had been taken.
The creak of the cabin settling sent a shiver down my spine, every noise amplifying the tension in my body.
It was getting light now, sunlight creeping in from the edges of the windows where the shadows couldn’t reach.
I was terrified because I couldn’t hear a woman outside. But I could hear a man. A deep voice. Low. Gruff. Teasing and just loud enough that it made me worry.
Malivore’s ears twitched, her pacing becoming more agitated.
She wasn’t growling yet, but she was tense, ready.
Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds, as if she knew someone dangerous was on the other side.
But seeing as she couldn’t speak English, I didn’t know how to tell her that everything would be okay.
Or get her to tell me that.
My palms were damp as I tightened my grip on the knife.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
I’d called Silver, not a damn SWAT team or a gross man of some kind.
I’d trusted her to help. This felt… different.
Wrong. More complicated. The voice outside was getting louder, clearer, and the dread in my chest bloomed into full-fledged panic.
I counted the seconds in my head, forcing myself to breathe, but each moment felt like a ticking bomb. Why was there a man with her? If she was even here at all. And why did the low rumble of male laughter make me feel like I was back in a nightmare I couldn’t escape?
Why did it sound familiar?
Before I could jump out of the window and run for it, there was a knock on the door. It made me jump so hard I almost dropped the knife.
“Heather?” Silver’s voice came through the wood, calm but carrying an odd tension. “It’s Silver. Open up.”
I froze, feeling my pulse hammering in my throat. Malivore stopped pacing, standing rigid and alert, her head cocked toward the door. Silver’s voice was casual, but the way she spoke… there was something off. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And I knew she wasn’t alone.
Had she secretly betrayed Atlas? Was she here to murder me and wear my head as a hat? Or worse? But what was worse than that? Fuck. Was she going to lock me in her basement and never let me out? Drown me in a pool of blood that made me sick, so the combination was vile?
Was she going to commit the worst sin of all? Murdering my dog.
“I’m not here!” I yelled back, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Heather’s dead! Please leave a message after the beep!”
I made a beep noise as I tried to work out what I was going to do.
There was a pause. Then a low chuckle. The kind of chuckle that was familiar enough to make my stomach drop and my blood run cold. I hadn’t heard it in years, but I’d never forget that sound.
“Lucky,” a man’s voice said, deep and amused. “Stop being dramatic and open the door.”
No fucking way.
I sat there frozen, knife gripped so tight in my hand my knuckles turned white.
That voice belonged to someone who shouldn’t be here.
Someone who had no right walking into my life now.
Malivore growled low in her throat, sensing my distress, and her muscles coiled like she was ready to pounce on whoever dared to come through the door.
“Rowan?” I whispered, feeling like the ground was slipping out from under me. Then louder, forcing some steel into my voice, I shouted, “I don’t open doors for strangers! Especially ones who are dead to me!”
A long-suffering sigh echoed from the other side of the door, followed by the unmistakable click of a lock being picked.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
Malivore’s growl deepened as the door swung open, revealing the last person I ever thought I’d see standing there.
Rowan Kane, my big brother, looked smug as ever with that infuriating grin plastered on his face. He was older now—more tired-looking—but it was him. Same messy blonde hair, same tattoo-covered arms, same stupid, cocky look that made me want to punch him on sight.
Same brown eyes that I had in my face, that we both got from our mom.
“You look different,” he said, stepping into the room like he hadn’t just broken open a door that wasn’t his. His eyes swept over me, taking in the knife, the way I was crouched on the floor like I was ready for battle.
I glared up at him, biting back the flood of emotions threatening to bubble over. “I’m full of vengeance right now. That’s probably why.”
Rowan stepped closer, his grin softening into something more familiar, more brotherly. “You’ve gotten big, too.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you calling me fat?”
He snorted, shaking his head and stepping into my personal space like he had every right to be there and yanking me to my feet like I weighed nothing. “Never. You just got taller. I always thought you’d stay a shrimp.”
Shrimp. That stupid nickname. My blood boiled, and before I could think twice, I stepped back and punched him. Hard. My knuckles collided with his jaw, and a deep satisfaction spread through me as he stumbled back with a grunt.
“Lucky, that’s no way to reunite with your favorite brother,” Rowan muttered, rubbing his stubble-covered jaw with one hand, though he still had that damn smile on his face. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“I hate you,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out shaky. My chest ached with all the emotions I didn’t want to feel right now. “You left me, and I want to kick you in the dick.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He moved closer again, this time slower, and before I could react, his arms were around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Missed you too, little sister.”
And damn it, despite everything, despite how much I wanted to keep hating him, I couldn’t stop myself from hugging him back.
Only for a second. Okay, thirty seconds. Maybe like a whole minute. Nothing at all, really. It was barely a hug. More of a hate touch. Yeah. A touch filled with violence and disgust.
I shoved him away, wiping my eyes quickly. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. Even if you are here to help me for some reason.”
I knew Silver had got him out of prison, the same as Raphael. But she hadn’t shared more than that, insisting I wait until her plan was finished and things were safe.
Clearly, she’d changed her mind. No doubt because of my brilliant charisma that convinced her things were fine. And nothing at all to do with the way I’d been terrified and in despair on the phone earlier.
Rowan’s eyes darkened, and he looked genuinely guilty. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’ll make it right. But we’ll talk later. We’ve got bigger problems right now.”
I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook, but he was right. There were bigger issues at hand. I took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”
Rowan gave me a small nod, his usual cockiness replaced by something softer. “Fair enough.”
We left the bedroom, heading into the living room where Silver was setting up what looked like a small arsenal on the coffee table. A mixture of guns, knives, and other dangerous things I didn’t have names for were laid out with precision, and she worked quickly, her face a mask of concentration.
When Silver glanced up and saw me, her serious expression broke for a second, and she offered me a smile. “Nice to meet you in person, Heather.”
I blinked, feeling suddenly shy and unsure.
“You… you look prettier in person,” I blurted, instantly cringing at myself.
She was pretty. Her hair was to her waist and an icy gray color that made her dark eyes stand out, and looked great with her tawny skin.
Her features were sharp and her smile soft, and I was honestly a little intimidated.
How fair was it that she was a badass and hot? I wanted that. I wanted to be feared and to have the skills to back up my inner hitwoman. When I walked into a room, I wanted men to be afraid of me far more than they wanted to fuck me. It was a life goal.
Silver raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. “I got all the looks in the family. Didn’t leave any for Atlas. That’s why he looks like he just crawled out of a dark pit.”
That made me laugh. The idea of Atlas being the unfortunate one in the looks department was too good not to laugh at.
“I mean, he tries with the whole dark and brooding thing.” I said. “But I reckon he’d be even better in a rainbow shirt or something.”
It wasn’t true. I fucking loved Atlas and his goth ways.
The idea of seeing him in something like the pale pink shorts and yellow crop top I had on was hilarious.
But it seemed more fun to pretend and play along.
I wanted his sister to like me. Love me, even.
We had to become besties, so that Atlas was happy and we could do like, giant family Christmas dinners.
But also because I didn’t want her to sneakily murder me in my sleep. There was some worry over that, too.
Silver grinned, nodding as she finished loading a handgun. “I might buy him some rainbow stuff for his birthday. You’ll have to send me stores you recommend. The brighter, the better.”
I chuckled again, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. There was something about her that was surprisingly… warm, despite her intimidating vibe. I could see why Atlas respected her so much. She was already making me feel safer.