Chapter 65
Imogen
The car comes to a stop. The engine cuts off. I hold my breath, waiting for him to get out and leave. I listen intently. His
seat belt is unclipped. The door opens and then slams closed. Next, he’ll take his bag from the back seat.
I wait.
He doesn’t open the door to the back seat of the car. Instead there’s noise. Screeching tires. Shouting. A gunshot. Now another.
And voices. Familiar voices.
My heart is racing. Adrenaline thundering around my body. I cover my head with my arms. What’s happening?
The trunk opens.
My heart stops beating and I blink as a bright flashlight shines in my eyes, obscuring my view of whoever is holding it. It’s
not Lincoln though. The silhouette of the frame is too small to be him.
And then I hear that familiar voice again. “There she is. My darling girl.”
Grandfather?
The light is gone and a hand is reaching for me, pulling me out of the trunk.
My head is spinning with confusion and so many questions.
Why is my grandfather here? Where is Killian?
Was he aware of my plan all along? Does he know I stole the key?
What if they’re all in on this sick twisted scheme together.
I spin around, straining to see in the darkness. We’re at a deserted car lot. There are two other cars here. And there is
Lincoln, on his knees with his hands behind his head. A gun is pointed at his temple by a man dressed head to toe in black
military gear, similar to the kind Lincoln wears. Blood runs down his face.
In addition to the man who pulled me out of the trunk, there are another four men here surrounding the small lot, dressed
in a similar getup as the man beside Lincoln. And of course there’s my grandfather, staring at me with what looks like pride.
He runs a hand over his thin gray beard and winks at me before directing his attention to Lincoln.
But Lincoln is only focused on me. His scowl murderous and his eyes burning into my skin with laser focus.
My grandfather slips an arm around my shoulder, and like the good granddaughter I was trained to be, I resist the urge to
shrug him off. “She did such a good job for me, Killian. Don’t you think? Weeding out our traitor.”
Wait! What? He knows this is Killian? And what the hell does he mean by a good job?
Lincoln growls. “I should have fucking known, Saul.”
Thoughts and questions are tumbling over themselves in my head, none of them making any sense. What should Killian have known?
“I thought you were onto me when her delightful little tracker stopped working,” my grandfather cackles. “But, imagine my
surprise when it popped up on my screen last week. I knew then it was only a matter of time before we found you.”
Her tracker? I have a tracker? Where, and how?
This is getting more bizarre by the second.
I keep my mouth closed, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
Who it is I’m supposed to be most afraid of.
Lincoln might not be the man he said he was, but then it’s clear my grandfather has been keeping plenty of secrets from me too.
I want to escape them both. Them and every other man who has ever lied to and manipulated me.
My grandfather runs a fingertip over my cheekbone, then hugs me closer, smiling at me, his eyes full of admiration as he looks
at me in a way he never did when I was a child. “I knew my good little princess would bring you back to me, Killian. She always
does exactly as she’s told.”
“What? No!” I shout my protest. My grandfather’s fingernails dig into the muscles of my shoulder, a warning designed to silence
me.
But I’m focused on Lincoln, and the indescribable pain on his face. Not physical pain because I’m sure he could stand a lot
more of that, but the deep pain of betrayal. A pain I recognize all too well. At this moment, I have no idea what I feel for
him. Everything is too mixed up and confused—my love for him bleeding into my anger and confusion. But I know that I can’t
let him believe I betrayed him. “Linc, I didn’t—”
“Now, now, Imogen. Let’s not get ourselves worked up into a tizzy.” Her voice cuts me off, and it’s so achingly warm and familiar
that it makes my legs almost buckle.
“Larissa?”
She steps out from behind the parked SUV beside us and smiles. “Welcome home, my darling girl.”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of anything that’s going on. “What’s happening? I don’t understand.”
She cups my face in her hand. “You did it, Imogen. You did exactly what you promised you would. You delivered us the traitor.”
The traitor? Do they mean Killian? So they both knew who he was? They used me as bait? “No,” I murmur. Not her too. What are
they doing? Why are they saying this?
“Imogen!” Killian’s roar shatters through the fog in my brain and I turn to face him.
We stare at each other across the fifty feet of distance that separates us.
His scowl is dark and dangerous and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m coming for you.” His tone is no less menacing than the look he’s giving me, and I realize he’s making a threat, not a promise of rescue.
What happens next takes place so fast that it’s a chaotic blur. A shot is fired and the man with the gun pointed at Lincoln’s
head drops to his knees. Then Lincoln quickly disarms him and shoots him in the face. He fires another two shots in quick
succession, dropping two more of my grandfather’s soldiers. Shots are fired back and my grandfather dives behind the SUV while
Larissa drags me with them.
I crouch low, covering my ears, praying that we don’t die. More gunshots ring out. And then there’s the unmistakable sound
of car tires screeching. I peer out from behind the car. Five dead soldiers lie on the ground as Killian climbs into the black
car that just pulled up. And despite everything he’s done, the messed-up part of me that is stupid enough to still care for
him is relieved he’s not dead.
My grandfather curses his fallen men for “not doing their fucking jobs” and I’m reminded of the cruelty of the man who raised
me. While I was away, I thought of him fondly because I had no one else in the world to compare him to. Another thing that’s
changed.
I stand to my full height. Wind whips my hair around my face and I roughly push it out of my eyes. But it’s too late. Lincoln
Knight has gone. Killian Wolfe has gone.
And his last threat rings in my ears, sending a shiver of pure unadulterated fear up the length of my spine.
I’m coming for you.
*****