Chapter 27 #2
Kyan turned his attention to me again. “Hey, Marie. Look at me.”
I hadn’t realized my eyes were beginning to drift—up to the corners of the room, down to the blood, anywhere but on an actual living person. I forced my gaze to his.
“There you go.” His voice went softer, a deep rumble smoothing out. “You’re doing really good, okay? You’re here, you’re upright, you’re not stabbing me, which I appreciate. You just have to stay with us a little longer.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, even though the edges of my vision were starting to fuzz and my legs felt like they were made of wet sand.
“Sure,” he agreed easily. “And I’m a ballerina. Humor me anyway.”
I huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. It came with a little hiccup at the end, but it was something.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Alastair started, oddly gentle. “We’ll clean up the data, and you will never have to think about those files again. You don’t need to do anything else about it except not faint on our boots.”
“Boots are new,” Kyan added. “I like these boots.”
I glanced down on reflex. They were, in fact, very nice boots. Tactical, black, and already in a pool of blood.
“His fault,” I said automatically, looking at the blood.
“Well, I wasn’t going to blame my dying ex-target,” Kyan mused. “He’s had a rough day.”
Despite everything, I laughed quietly. “You’re really bad at this.”
“At what, bleeding control?” he asked. “Miss, I am excellent at not dying.”
“At comfort,” I clarified.
He grinned, quick and bright. “Yeah, but I’m funny. It balances out.”
Alastair made a sarcastic sound. “Debatable.”
“See?” Kyan jerked his chin at him. “This is why we need our girl. Someone to validate my greatness.”
“Your girl?” I repeated, latching onto the absurdity.
Kyan’s expression shifted, a fond yearning flashing through the humor. “Yeah. We’re going to find her after this contract. If Wade doesn’t, you know, make us vanish for this whole situation.”
Alastair’s mouth curved faintly. “Dominion Hall,” he supplied, like that explained anything. “We have unfinished business waiting for us there.”
“We met her when we were kids,” Kyan explained, eyes going distant for a second. “She was with us for a few months, then disappeared. Foster system, relocation, whatever bullshit excuse they gave us. We’ve been trying to find her ever since.”
“Your… third,” I said slowly. “Like you two and her?”
He flashed me a quick, lopsided smile. “See? Smart and murderous. Wade does pick well.”
“Don’t flirt with the boss’ traumatized knife girl,” Alastair sighed. “It sends the wrong message.”
“I’m not flirting,” Kyan protested. “I’m bonding. It’s different.”
“It’s working,” I admitted, because somehow talking about their future triad was keeping me from sliding down the wall and curling into a ball.
“That’s the goal,” he smiled. “Keeps your head busy so it doesn’t eat you alive.”
My grip on the knife shifted, the blade dipping a little lower as my muscles finally gave up on staying locked. I didn’t drop it, but I wasn’t pointing it at their throats anymore. That felt huge.
“You know,” Kyan went on, as if we were just three people having a very bloody coffee chat, “when we do find her, we’re introducing her to Wade. She’s gotta meet the old man who made it possible.”
“Old man,” I repeated, a bit of warmth threading through the word.
“He’s ancient,” Kyan confirmed solemnly. “Like, really old. We’re basically toddlers to him.”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my lips.
The low thrum of rotors started then, faint at first, then louder, building until the windows rattled and dust sifted from the ceiling. All three of us looked up instinctively.
Kyan grinned. “And there’s our cue.”
Alastair nodded. “He’s come to collect his girl.”
Relief hit so hard my knees almost buckled. There was no fear of him being mad, of being in trouble. Just this huge, overwhelming rush of safety slamming into my body.
I didn’t have to be strong anymore. Not in this room. Not with him here.
The helicopter roar grew teeth, chewing up the air around us. Dust shook loose from the ceiling, and the window frames rattled.
Boots hit the gravel outside, fast and hard, and my whole body recognized it before my brain did. A shadow cut across the doorway, and then Wade was there.
Disheveled wasn’t a word anyone would ever use for Wade Easton, except for right now. His white shirt was half-buttoned and wrinkled, his coat hung open, and his hair was tousled from the rotors and his own impatient hands.
His pale blue eyes were wild, scouring the room in one violent sweep: Castellanos on the floor, Kyan kneeling in blood, Alastair off to the side, and finally, me.
“Marie.” My name fell out of him like he’d been holding his breath since I left and finally found air.
The knife slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
I took one stumbling step, and then he was across the space, closing the distance like nothing and no one else in the room existed. Kyan and Alastair might as well have been furniture for all the attention he gave them.
His arms came around me hard, one banding around my back, the other cradling the back of my head, and he pulled me in so tightly it knocked the rest of the air out of my lungs.
Everything in me that had been locked tight since that email finally let go.
I sagged against him with my full weight, my forehead hitting his chest, and my hands fisting in his shirt. The scent of him, clean and warm and so familiar, hit the back of my throat.
I broke, silent at first, and then with these awful, shaking breaths I couldn’t control.
I buried my face in his neck, pressing my nose into his skin like I could climb inside him and hide there. His heartbeat slammed against my cheek, fast and furious, but his hands were gentle as they smoothed over my hair, down my back.
“Daddy’s here,” he murmured against my temple, voice low and rough. “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
The words cracked something deeper, and the tears finally came—hot, humiliating, and unstoppable. I clung to him, soaking his shirt in tears and blood, and he just held me tighter.
He bent his head, pressing his lips to my hairline, then my cheek, then the side of my head again. “You did so well,” he whispered. “You hear me? You did so fucking well, Marie.”
My legs were done. Whatever had been holding me upright was gone. He felt it, of course, because he felt everything, and without loosening his hold, one strong arm slid under my thighs, the other tightening around my back.
He picked me up like it was nothing—like he was stealing me back.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on, tucking my face back into the curve. His pulse thudded against my lips, and his coat fell around us like a shield.
“I’m so proud of you,” he kept murmuring as he carried me out of that room, his voice a steady rumble against my ear. “You were so strong, my brave girl.”
We passed Kyan and Alastair and the mess on the floor, but Wade never even glanced at them. His entire world had narrowed down to the bundle of me in his arms.
The sun hit us as he stepped outside, the wind from the helicopter slapping at his coat, tugging at my hair. He curved his body, keeping me tucked in against his chest like the world could do its worst and it still wouldn’t touch me.
He climbed into the chopper with me in his arms, never loosening that iron hold. The noise was deafening, the vibration rattling through the metal frame, but all I could feel were his hands, his breath, his lips pressing over and over into my hair.
“I’ve got you,” he soothed again, right against my ear as he settled into the seat with me still in his lap. His hand splayed across my back, big and warm. “You’re safe. Daddy’s so, so proud of you, Marie.”
He kissed the top of my head, lingering there as the helicopter lifted, leaving the stone building, the blood, and the man on the floor behind us.