37. Royce
37
ROYCE
T he car roars down the dark roads, its headlights piercing through the inky blackness. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white, urgency throbbing in every beat of my heart. Grayson sits beside me, his eyes locked forward, with a tension in his jaw that mirrors mine. Logan is in the back, his leg bouncing faster with every passing mile.
“I can’t believe I never considered our family home,” Grayson chastises himself with a shake of his head.
After tracking Bertram’s car, which shows it’s been sitting outside his house all evening—and hacking into his security system to check he definitely didn’t have our girls there—Blue turned his focus to the apartment building in Halston and was able to identify the corporation that owns it. Once he discovered that, he tracked down other assets the company owned.
The second Grayson saw the list, he recognized the address of his childhood home. Within minutes of that discovery, the three of us were in the car racing away from The Depot, where we’d spent the past twenty-four hours helping Blue scour video footage and scan documents in search of a clue as to where to find our girls.
She’s there. They are there. It’s the only thing that makes sense. This entire fucked up situation has come full circle, and you can bet your ass it’s going to end tonight. Bertram’s a dead man walking. We’re going to get our girls, and that sick fuck isn’t going to live to see the sunrise.
“You couldn’t have known.” The words come out harsher than I intend, but I genuinely mean the sentiment. “How could you have known the house you sold four years ago had worked its way back into your father’s hands?”
The how of it all is unknown, but we know enough to connect the dots.
Grayson makes a noise of disagreement but doesn’t voice his objections. Glancing his way, I suspect he’s unable to unclench his jaw long enough to get a word out. Instead of forcing him to talk, I push my foot down further on the accelerator. The engine roars in response, the car speeding up. We’re so far past the speed limit that the landscape is a blur out the side window.
As we round the bend, Logan’s sharp intake of breath makes me glance to the left. Smoke. Thick, black plumes billowing up into the night sky. My heart skips a beat, a cold dread settling in my stomach.
“No,” I breathe. Despite our dangerous speed, the car feels like it is moving in slow motion as my gaze takes in the landscape.
“Do you think that’s…” Logan’s voice trailed off, the fear in it palpable.
“Hurry,” is all Grayson says, his voice tight.
My foot is flat to the floor, my body urging us to go quicker, to move faster. The winding road feels endless as I fly into another bend. All the while, my focus keeps flicking back to the smoke, growing thicker and darker as we approach.
Finally, a set of open gates loom ahead. The back of the car fishtails, Grayson and Logan grappling for the oh-shit handle as I turn onto the driveway, gravel kicking up beneath us as we fly down it.
We crest a hill, and the sight before us makes my blood run cold. Flames lick up the side of the house, bright and fierce against the night. Once a picture of wealth and power, the elegant mansion is now a blazing inferno.
“Fucking hell,” Logan rasps, jaw slack as he leans between the two front seats. The flames are almost blinding against the dark backdrop, growing in size as we careen to a stop at the front of the house.
I slam the car to a stop, and we are out instantly. Panic floods my veins, an icy terror that scatters my thoughts as I scan the house’s exterior. Where are Riley and Aurora? Are they inside, or have they already gotten out?
Whirling, I scan our surroundings, but there’s no sign of anyone other than us.
“Riley!” I shout, my voice lost in the roar of the flames as I rush up the front steps. The heat is oppressive, the air thick with smoke.
“Riley! Aurora!” Logan’s voice joins mine, desperate and frantic, as the three of us race for the door.
Grayson is a step ahead of me. He grabs the door handle only to recoil in pain. “Fuck, it’s scorching hot!” he yells, clutching his hand.
“Shit!” I run a hand through my hair before stepping back and bringing my leg up. My foot connects with the door, but it doesn’t budge. Frantic, I kick out again and again with the same useless response.
“This isn’t working,” Logan snarls, before yanking on my arm and taking off along the side of the house.
I’m peeking through windows, growing increasingly concerned for Riley and Aurora’s welfare, when I hear it—a scream, piercing and filled with fear. My heart lurches. “Did you hear that?”
The others nod, and we sprint faster, desperation fueling our steps.
“There!” Grayson shouts as we round the side of the house. Aurora stands at a window, dressed in soot-stained pajamas and wrapped in a blanket. Tears stream down her face as she cries and calls for her mom.
“Aurora!” When she hears Logan calling her, she turns to face us. She sobs, her entire little body heaving with the effort. She’s dusted with soot, a tattered blanket wrapped around her.
“Lo!” She cries, pointing through a broken window with a trembling hand. “Mommy needs help!”
Logan doesn't hesitate to bundle her into his arms, holding her tight like he’s afraid to let her go as he mutters assurances. My focus is on the window as I peer inside. Smoke is thick in the room beyond, billowing out the broken window and making it impossible to discern anything. Grayson and I exchange a glance, fear and determination mirrored in our eyes.
Glass breaks beneath my boots as I approach the window and brace my hands on the sill before Grayson stops me. “You’re too big, dude. You’ll get stuck. I’ll go in, find Riley, and lift her out to you.”
He’s shoving me aside and climbing in before I can argue, and a moment later, all I can make out is his silhouette.
“Shit,” he curses from inside the room.
“What is it?” I bark.
“She’s unconscious.” He has to shout to be heard over the creaking of the house and roaring of flames. Fuck, the entire structure is going to come down.
“Move it, Van Doren, before the fucking roof caves in!”
The silhouette moves before Grayson’s lean frame appears in the window. His sweater is pulled up to cover his nose and mouth, and in his arms is a bruised and bleeding Riley. My heart shatters at the sight.
“We’re going to get you out of here, Tempest. Just hold on,” he murmurs, voice tight with tension. I reach for her, my hands shaking as Grayson passes her to me. Feeling her in my arms, relief floods me. Even in this state, holding her is a balm to my terror.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Holding her close, I murmur reassurances in her ear. She feels so fragile in my arms, so vulnerable, but her chest rises and falls, her eyelids fluttering. She’s alive.
I carry her safely away from the blazing house and gently set her down on a patch of grass. The blades are cool beneath her heated skin as I brush her hair, darkened with soot, away from her face before kissing her forehead. “Come on, baby, open those gorgeous eyes for me,” I plead.
Sirens blare in the distance, and I’m aware of Grayson kneeling at my side. His hand is wrapped around hers as he kisses her knuckles, murmuring similar pleas.
Her chest rises and falls, breaths shallow but steady. Still, she doesn’t stir. Tears sting my eyes, and I turn away as I force myself to keep them at bay. My gaze connects with Logan’s. He’s standing off to one side, keeping Aurora’s attention away from her mom, but Logan’s face is etched in pain, and he does nothing to stem the tears streaking down his cheeks as he looks at Riley as though he’s watching his heart shatter into pieces.
Seeing him break, my own tears wriggle free until the three of us are crying and pleading with Riley to wake up.
To come back to us.
To survive.
To live.
My fingers curl around Riley’s limp ones, my focus intent on the air that fogs up her oxygen mask every time she exhales. She regained consciousness momentarily before the fire trucks and ambulances arrived, and several more times while she lay on a stretcher on the way to the hospital. Every time, she’d been groggy and confused, and the EMT had advised her not to talk.
I’d given the paramedic a menacing glare as he’d tried to close the doors and climbed into the back of the ambulance before they’d peeled away from the still-burning house.
Aurora was sitting in the back of another ambulance, Logan keeping her entertained while she was checked over. She doesn’t appear to have suffered the same extent of smoke inhalation as Riley. Likely thanks to the blanket that was wrapped around her. Grayson had been deep in conversation with the fire chief and police, giving a statement when the ambulance left. He’s still absent, but Logan joined me in Riley’s room, carrying a passed-out Aurora a little while ago.
Neither of us says a word. Exhaustion and worry rim his eyes, likely mirroring my own as he stares transfixed at Riley’s sleeping form. The doctors have assessed her and assured us she’s fine, minus some minor smoke inhalation—hence the oxygen mask.
She’s merely sleeping. Exhausted from the night’s activities… and whatever the fuck has gone down in the last twenty-seven hours since I stupidly left her alone at the stadium.
All in all, she’s lucky.
We’re lucky.
Bowing my head, I press a kiss to each of her knuckles. Tonight could have ended so differently. The fire could have got her. Bertram could have destroyed her before the fire even started. We could have been too late. We nearly were.
“Any word from Grayson?” Although he keeps his voice low, his words are a thick rasp as though Logan was the one caught inside that burning house.
I shake my head. I’d messaged him and Logan earlier with an update on Riley’s condition. Although he’s read the message, he hasn’t responded.
“He’s probably still dealing with the fire chief.”
“Do you think Bertram was still in the house?” he asks after a moment.
I merely shake my head, not knowing. I fucking hope so, though. I hope he met a slow and agonizing end in those flames.
“I hope he was,” Logan continues, voicing my thoughts aloud. “I’m done with this. I want him gone. I want a normal life for the five of us—one where we aren’t afraid to let Aurora out of our sight or where Riley is constantly looking over her shoulder.”
What I wouldn't give for that, too.
A twitch against my fingers has my gaze snapping to Riley’s face. Her eyelids flutter before opening, and I let out the first real breath since I got Logan’s call as I take in those stunning hazel eyes.
She stares at the ceiling briefly before her head falls to the side, her gaze catching on mine. “You’re okay,” I assure her, giving her fingers a squeeze. Her eyes are clouded with confusion, and she lifts a hand, touching her oxygen mask. I can see the events of the night play out across her mind before her head whips toward Aurora.
“She’s okay, too.” Relief floods her features as she stares at her daughter, sleeping soundly on Logan’s lap.
“I haven’t let her out of my sight, Shortcake,” Logan says softly, a relieved smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Docs checked her out, and she’s perfectly healthy. Not a hair harmed on her head.”
Riley seems to melt into the bed at that confirmation, her throat bobbing as she swallows. Her eyes close, and for a moment, I think she’s fallen back to sleep before she pushes the oxygen mask off her face.
“How—” She stops, licking her lips, and I hurriedly pour her a glass of water and bring it to her lips. She drinks the cool water down greedily before trying again. “How long have I been out?”
“Not long.” Unable to help myself, I smooth my hand over her hair. “A few hours. You passed out from smoke inhalation.” My own voice is thick. “You were unconscious when we found you.”
She gives a small, tired nod, her brows furrowing as she tries to piece together her fragmented memories. “The last thing I remember is breaking the window to escape.”
I take a deep breath, my heart aching at the thought of what she had endured. “When we got there, we saw smoke and flames. The door was locked and burning hot. We heard Aurora scream. Grayson climbed in and got you out.”
At the mention of his name, her eyes scan the room, searching for him.
“He’s still at the house,” Logan says by way of explanation.
She grimaces at the mention of that house, her gaze falling back on Aurora like she can’t bring herself to look away for more than a few seconds at a time.
The questions I’ve been stewing over for the past day that have only become more insistent in the past hours stack on the tip of my tongue. Unable to hold them back any longer, they slip free. “What happened?” I croak. “Did he hurt you?” Fuck, he better not have. “Did he…” I can’t even bring myself to voice that last one aloud.
She gives my fingers another squeeze, those tired eyes fixed on mine. “No.”
A weight I didn’t realize I had been carrying finally lifts from my shoulders, my muscles relaxing for the first time since we found her things in that bathroom .
“He was at the game,” she explains, voice thick and raspy.
“We know,” I interject so she doesn’t have to hurt her throat by talking. “We saw the video footage. You did what you had to to protect Aurora.”
She nods, but her eyes are shiny with tears. “H-he left us alone that first night and all day.” More lines form along her forehead as she frowns. “I think he wanted us to be comfortable. Or perhaps he was trying to get in my head, I don’t know.”
She goes quiet, and I know there’s more. He did something .
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and brush my thumb across the back of her hand. “You’re safe,” I assure her, holding her bloodshot eyes until her shoulders inch down from her ears.
“Maybe we should wait for Gray,” Logan suggests.
Riley gives a firm shake of her head. “No. He doesn’t need to hear the details…”
I catch Logan’s gaze, his posture deflating as he agrees, and we patiently wait while Riley gathers herself.
“A-after dinner… he… he made me sit in his lap.” Her face scrunches in disgust. “He touched me.” Her voice breaks over the word, and it takes all my self-control to remain seated. To not storm out of here and hunt down the sick, twisted bastard. “He made me kiss him.” Her fingers lift to her cheek, trailing the little red nicks as she gets lost in the memory, shuddering. I’d assumed they were from when she broke the window, though now I’m guessing they aren’t, and yup… Bertram is a fucking dead man. Assuming he isn’t dead already.
My gaze slides to Logan, and despite his comforting hold on Aurora, his eyes spark with the same murderous intent. Jaw clenched, he lifts his gaze to mine, and we’re in agreement.
If Bertram made it out of that fire alive, he will meet his end at our hands for daring to touch Riley. For traumatizing her. For terrorizing her by kidnapping Aurora.
“H-he told me to meet him in his bedroom after I put Aurora to bed,” Riley continues, utterly oblivious to how fucking strong she is at this moment. Sure, her voice is hoarse, her skin pale and coated in soot, but without her having to say anything, I know she fought like hell to get Aurora and herself out of there.
A tear gathers on her lower lid before spilling over, and I reach up to swipe it away. “I-I couldn’t,” she stammers, wide eyes holding mine. “I knew if I did that, he’d break me, and I don’t think I would have recovered this time.”
Squeezing her hand, I state earnestly, “You would have, Ry. You would have because, this time, you wouldn’t have been healing alone. But whatever the hell you did to make sure that didn’t happen, I’m so fucking glad for it.”
“I-I lit the burners on the stove.” She sniffles, wiping at her nose. “B-before I went to his room, I turned on the gas and draped a towel over the stovetop.
“I didn’t know how long it would take. I just kept telling myself to keep him occupied until it ignited. I…” Her eyes go wide with fear. “I didn’t expect the fire to get so big so quickly. I thought I’d have more time to get us out of there.”
Brushing my hand over the back of her head and down the length of her hair, I assure her, “You did. You were so brave.”
Logan clears his throat, and Riley looks his way. “What, uh, what happened to Bertram?”
Exhaling, Riley gives a slight shake of her head. “I hit him over the head with a lamp. I-I don’t know if he is… I just ran. I-I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. Grayson will be here soon, and he can update us.”
“I hope he’s dead.”
They’re the first words Riley has spoken tonight that haven’t been coated in hysteria or panic. The steel in her tone, the sheer strength. Well, fuck, now might not be the time or place, but it gets me fucking hard.
“If he’s not, he’s going to wish he was, real fucking soon.”
Logan’s tone drips with menace, eyes flashing with delight at whatever torture he’s imagining. He might be a golden retriever. He might come across as the laid-back, easy-going one of us, but if anyone hurts someone he cares about, he can be just as ruthless as me.
It’s what makes the three of us such good friends.
Grayson is like a phantom—silent and deadly.
Logan is the fist to the face you never see coming.
And I’m the brick wall you slam into when you try to flee.
Together? We’re fucking deadly.
Especially when you come after either of our girls.
Riley’s eyes begin to droop, exhaustion weighing her down. “Go to sleep, sweetheart,” I encourage, bringing my lips to her knuckles. She gives me a small, sleepy smile as she sinks deeper into the pillows. “We’ll look after Aurora and be here when you wake up.”
With that reassurance, her lids drop closed, and knowing she’ll be alright, I finally allow myself to relax as my head drops to the mattress beside our joined hands, and I close my eyes.