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And still, Cole doesn’t move.
“Torian. You need to focus.” Luca approaches him, the blood from his face soaking his shirt. “We’ve got stuff to do.”
The closer he gets, the clearer the damage becomes. He was shot in the head, the bullet grazing his skull.
“Are you okay?” I start for him.
“It’s a scratch.” He waves me away. “Do us all a favor and grab the duffel from my room.”
I nod, inching forward, bumping into the sofa before turning and fleeing down the hall toward the sound of a sobbing woman and child. I retrieve the duffel from Luca’s room and drag it along the hall, the contents too heavy to carry with my protesting ribs and shoulder. “Here.”
Luca rushes forward, falling to his knees to yank open the zipper and pull out tarps and numerous bottles of bleach.
“You need stitches.” My voice is barely audible as I peer down at the side of his head. The gash has to be two inches long. The barest nudge to the right and he would’ve taken a bullet to the brain.
“Stitches are the last fucking thing on my mind.” He bundles the items into his arms and stands. “Because unless this shit is cleaned up, you’re going down for murder.”
“It was self-defense.”
“And how are you going to tell that story?” He scowls. “Are you going to throw Cole under the bus by saying you were a prisoner?”
“No. Of course not.”
“So you’re going to a
I watch in a daze as he staggers to Luther’s side and lays out the tarp along the tile.
Still, all Cole does is stare. No movement. No hint of what he’s thinking.
“Cole.” I start toward him, needing to be close. I don’t care if he doesn’t speak. His touch will be enough to tell me everything is all right.
I reach for him, about to run my fingers along his arm when he snaps from his daze and jerks away, his eyes filling with spite. “Back off.”
All warmth seeps from my body. With two words and a scathing glare, he reduces me to nothing. “I—”
“Get away from me.”
A panicked breath escapes my lips.
I don’t understand. I saved his life. I saved all our lives, and now I’ve been reduced to a leper. If the feeling wasn’t entirely familiar from my time in the Bureau, I’m not sure I could stop myself from breaking into a fit of sobs. “He was going to—”
“Get. The fuck. Away.” His lip curls. “Now, Anissa.”
My heart breaks.
Everything does—my strength, my pride, my confidence.
I shuffle back, placing more and more distance between us until I bump into a wall.
Maybe I should’ve waited… Listened… Ignored the building panic.
But I don’t believe, not for one second, that Luther wouldn’t have shot his own son. That monster was capable of killing anyone who stepped foot in his path. And if it wasn’t Cole, it could’ve been anyone else.
I slither down the wall, sinking into a heap as Luca and Cole work together, lifting both bodies onto separate tarps, then wrapping them over and over. Then they carry one away, disappearing momentarily around the pool area before coming back for the next.
I should start cleaning up evidence, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t move with the emotional pain leashing me in place.
Even when a boat revs to life, I remain shackled by invisible bonds.
I’m left alone for what feels like hours, staring at a pool of blood while unending suffering echoes from down the hall. I relive everything, over and over, the continuous loop punishing.
One minute I’d been asleep, the next, Luca woke me and demanded I get to the boat.
I hadn’t had time to get the gun from under my pillow. No. I hadn’t been fully awake to think about it until the open air hit my cheeks.
I’d sent Luca back to get it, leaving me to start the trek to the pier on my own.
That was when I’d heard them. The sound of voices in no way similar to the people I expected.
I hid, crouching behind the shrubs on the opposite side of the house yard, peeking through branches and leaves while I was locked outside with Chris.
I hadn’t known what to do. But I was certain I didn’t want to drag Cole’s attention away from his task.
Then Pe
My world had shrunk to pure instinct.
That was when I ran for the open door, sidestepping the bloodbath at my feet to swipe the gun Pe
I hadn’t spared a second thought about staying in my safe place. I’d risked my life to help Cole. I hadn’t been able to spend another moment wondering if he was dead or alive. I’d needed to contradict my pessimism and see for myself that he was okay.
I scoff out a laugh.
I entered a war zone for him and now he hates me.
I pull my knees to my chest and bow my head.
I don’t know how long I wait there, worrying about them never returning and even more concerned about what will happen if they do, until the familiar sound of shoes on gravel crunches outside.
I glance up to see Luca walk through the glass doorway, the blood now dried on his face, while Cole follows behind.
“What did you do with the bodies?”
“That’s not your concern.” Cole stalks to the kitchen, his face set in a tight scowl.
“Wait.” I scramble to my feet. “Please talk to me.”
He winces, a pained expression crossing his features for the briefest second before it turns to rage. “I don’t think you want to know how I feel right now.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me. Yell at me. But don’t ignore me. Not now.” Not when I’m drowning in guilt. “He was going to kill someone. You know that.”
His jaw tics.
“Did I do the wrong thing?” My voice is a pathetic rasped plea. “Should I have let Luther keep aiming his gun at you?”
He ignores me and walks for the hall, not sparing me a backward glance.
“Why don’t you wait outside?” Luca scoops a bottle of bleach from the floor and cracks the lid. “We need to focus on the cleanup.”
“No. I’m not leaving him.”
“I think you’re doing more harm than good by staying.” He pours the liquid onto the pool of blood where Luther fell, then places the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Come on. This shit is intense. You’ve gotta let the dust settle.”
He indicates for me to follow him to the doors with a wave of his hand.
I still don’t want to go.
I need to speak to Cole. He has to understand. “You can’t tell me all our lives weren’t in danger.”
“We can talk outside.” He stops at the glass doors.
Goddammit.
I feel sick. Worthless.
I follow after him on numb legs and walk outside, bypassing Chris’s blood on the tiles. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Give him space.” Luca moves into the doorway, blocking any possibility of my return inside. “You should be celebrating. This is over. You get to cut and run.”
I don’t want to cut and run.
I need closure.
I need Cole.
“Anissa…” Luca gives me a placating smile. A pathetic, deprecating curve of lips. “Being held here has fucked with your head. You’ve gotta realize the way you’re feeling probably has a lot to do with Stockholm syndrome.”
My world narrows to two words. One psychological condition.
No. The way I feel isn’t dictated by mental instability.
“I think it’s best if you wait at the pier,” he continues. “We’ll get word of Keira’s arrival any minute now.”