Kellen
Icrouch down in the darkness of the bushes with Finn and Angus. Both men are armed and quiet, and the tension of the minutes before gunfire lingers in the air between us, electrifying everything. Ahead, Tara’s cottage is quiet, but the lights are on—and they shouldn’t be.
“How many?” I whisper, staring at the door like it might gracefully open and Tara might walk out as a free and happy woman.
But I know better. I know how these things end.
With blood, only with blood.
I don’t know any other way.
“Seven at last count,” Finn whispers back. “We’re double-checking, but I’m fairly positive.”
“Only seven?” I frown, shaking my head. “That makes no sense. They know we have twice that and they’re trapped inside.”
“They’ve got Tara,” Angus says and grunts. “Hostage.”
My fingers dig into the dirt and I take a breath. Rory should be in there too, but there’s been no sign of him so far. At this point, I have to assume he’s dead, which leaves a raw and rotten wound in my soul like a burn through my flesh. Rory was a good man, a loyal soldier, and a friend. And now he’s gone.
“I’ll go in.” I start to stand but Finn pulls me back down.
“That’s what they want,” he says, shaking his head. “We have to hit the place hard all at once. Front and back. Shoot to kill, no hesitating. We can smoke it out—”
“Too dangerous,” I say and shrug him off. “Tara’s in there and she’s alive. I won’t risk it. The smoke will cause chaos, and you know how bad things happen in chaos.”
“Hugh’s in there too. We can end this now if we go in.”
“No,” I say sharply. “I’d rather let Hugh escape than risk Tara dying.”
“That’s what he’s banking on.” Finn grabs my shoulder and squeezes it. “You’re not thinking straight. I know how you feel about her—”
“You don’t,” I say, glaring at him.
“You love her.”
I drag in a breath and feel it like a knife in my guts. If thinking of Rory is like death in my mouth then thinking of Tara is life. She’s the reason I can keep going through all this, and without her, there’s no fucking point to any of it. Before, I wasn’t sure how I felt about her—I was angry, I hated her, I missed my sister—but now I see Tara’s so much more like me than anyone else ever has been. She fits, she fills in my cracks, she makes me whole. If that’s love—then I’m in love.
“I can’t let her die.” I stare at my hands, at my worthless murdering hands, and know this is the right decision. Deep in my soul, it’s right—because letting her die for the sake of my selfish mission would be like cutting off a piece of my own flesh.
Worse, it would be like spitting in the face of all that’s good, and I won’t do it.
Finn shakes his head. “We’ll do our best, but the family—”
“Fuck the family. I don’t care if they’re not happy about this.” I shove him away and stand up. He curses, tries to pull me back, but I’m already striding out from cover and toward the front door with my hands raised in the air.
My heart’s thudding hard and I keep thinking at any moment my life might be over. If Hugh has guys at the windows with guns trained me, they can pull the trigger and end it right now. That’s what they want—but the night remains quiet, and I remain alive.
Someone in there is smart. They must realize that if they kill me outright, here and now, my men will swarm this place and finish them all off.
I’m the only thing keeping them alive.
I stop at the door and pound on it twice.
“Hugh,” I call out. “It’s me. I’m here alone and unarmed. Open the fuck up and let’s talk.”
There’s some shuffling from inside and the door pulls back a crack. Hugh’s face fills in the space, grinning that slimy reptile smirk.
“I knew you’d come,” he says, head cocked. “Should we have a chat?”