Chapter 31

31

Eli

Itry to go back to sleep, but the conversation with Marie still bothers me. It should be as simple as I gave her an order and she’ll follow it, but I also gave her several orders since Lammas that she ignored. For her to stay out of the compound. For her to wait for my next move. She ignored all of them. I stew on that for far too long, running possibilities and not liking what I come up with. Ninety percent of the outcomes end with Marie striking on her own without my input.

I open my eyes and sit up. Harlow makes sleepy sound of protest next to me, but then she opens her eyes. There is no easing into wakefulness with her. She’s asleep one moment and fully coherent the next.

She frowns up at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I may have fucked up.” It pains me to admit it, but it’s glaringly clear that this isn’t the first time. “Again.”

Harlow sits up. “What’s wrong?” she repeats. “What did you do?”

My instinct is to stay silent and take care of it myself, but I’ve tried doing it that way, and I almost lost Harlow as a result. Still, it takes more effort than it should for me to form the proper words. “Marie was in the compound last night.”

“What?”

I hate the look on her face, the suspicion. “She left a note in my room, and so I had to meet her. I wasn’t plotting.”

Harlow stares at me a long moment. “Did you tell her and the others to stand by?”

Guilt flares, hot and poisonous. “Yes, on the first day. Last night I told her it was over. That I’m not going to fight Abel, and neither are they.”

“Eli.” Harlow drags her hand over her face. “What the hell were you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I know what you were thinking.” She flings the covers off us and climbs out of bed. “You have to tell Abel.”

“He’ll think I’m plotting against him.”

“You were plotting against him.” She turns around, glorious and fierce and naked in the late morning light. “Do you love me? Do you love him?”

I open my mouth to form the safe answer, but we’ve gone much too far for safe. Trying to withhold anything will result in losing the possibility of the future I’ve barely dared imagine. I’ll lose Harrow for real. I’ll lose Abel before I’ve truly come to terms with having him back in my life. I take a slow breath that does nothing to steady me. “Yes. Yes, to both.”

“You have to tell him.” She looks at the clock next to the bed and curses. “He’ll be going into Old Town soon. How likely is it that Marie will decide today’s the day to strike?”

I think back over our conversation and grimace. “Likely enough. She’ll know that Old Town is delivering their official answer today. There’s no telling when Abel will next be out of the compound, and she’s not the most patient sort. She has the time and place and opportunity. It might be months before another chance presents itself.”

Harlow’s face goes even paler. “You have to tell him, and you have to tell him now. We can fight about the fact you met her last night and didn’t say a single damn thing to us later. If Abel dies, we won’t be able to fight about anything at all.”

If Abel dies.

If Abel dies.

Funny how the idea shocks me to my very core. Funny since a few days ago, I wanted him dead for what he’d taken from me, for what I assumed he’d done to Harlow. Or not so funny at all, because the thought of the world without Abel in it leaves me dizzy with fear. “He can’t die.”

“He’s human. He’s just as vulnerable to death as the rest of us.” She says it so calmly. “There’s also a chance they’ll use the opportunity to strike the compound instead. I have to find Broderick and tell him.”

“Yes.” Of course she’d see the possible moves just as easily as I do. Harlow’s always been more capable than I’ve allowed her to be. We stare at each other for a moment more and then simultaneously burst into action.

Harlow runs into the closet while I pull on the clothes I was wearing last night. By the time I yank my shoes on, she emerges wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “Find Abel. Tell him the truth.”

“I will.” Even if it breaks the fragile trust that’s bloomed between us. I can live with that as long as he lives. With each minute that passes, I become surer that this is when Marie will direct her team to strike. Old Town might have agreed to Abel’s terms, but they won’t move to defend him if he’s attacked on their street. Hell, they wouldn’t move to defend me even after five years of ruling this faction because Old Town doesn’t give a fuck about anything but Old Town.

Harlow and I part ways at the door. She heads toward the hall where Broderick and some of the other Brides are staying, and I rush to the stairs and down to the main floor. The house isn’t exactly quiet, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to be too late.

That I’m already too late.

I catch sight of a familiar figure near the front door. I haven’t seen him since Lammas, but I’d recognize Gabriel Paine anywhere. He used to follow me and Abel around when he was just a little kid. Fuck, we used to essentially babysit him. I shove the thought away. “Gabriel.”

He tenses, and his expression is unreadable as he turns to face me. “Eli.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“You’re supposed to be in your room.”

Obviously Abel hasn’t updated the rest of the household on our new status, not that I blame him, but it’s slowing me down right now, and I don’t have time for this shit. I don’t hesitate, stalking to Gabriel and grabbing him by his collar. “Listen to me, you little shit. Abel is in danger, and I need to get to him right now. Where the fuck is he?”

Gabriel sinks a punch into my stomach. Even bracing for it, it knocks the breath out of me. He breaks my hold on his shirt and steps back. “If you ever touch me again without my permission, I’ll fucking kill you.”

I nod and draw in a rough breath. “Where is your brother?”

“Old Town. He left fifteen minutes ago.”

Gabriel definitely pulled his punch, but my stomach still feels like it’s lodged in my chest. “Harlow has all the info. She’s looking for Broderick.”

“Then she has it covered.” Gabriel turns to the door. “Let’s go.”

Alarm flares. “You’re not coming with me.” I used to change this kid’s diapers. It doesn’t matter if he’s twenty-eight now. When he was five, he couldn’t say his Ls well and called me Ee-eye. If I take him and he gets killed, I’ll never be able to live with myself.

“You seem to think you have any say in the matter.” Gabriel pulls a phone out of his pocket and types out a quick message. “If you pull some shit, my brothers will know.”

Which means he just texted them all. Good. I eye his phone. “Any chance of getting Abel on the phone?”

“No. He doesn’t check it when he’s doing business. And Cohen’s shit at texting, so he just ignores the group chat.” Gabriel shakes his head. “Let’s go.”

Arguing will just waste further time. Maybe it’s paranoia that has the voice in the back of my head screaming that every second counts, but I’m not willing to ignore it. “Okay.”

We grab a truck from the parking lot of the compound, and Gabriel climbs behind the wheel. “If you’re trying—”

“Stop threatening me, and hurry the fuck up. My former head of security has at least twelve people organizing an assault on your brother. How many people did he take with him?” I don’t believe in the gods, but I find myself praying as Gabriel takes the turn out of the compound on two wheels. Surely Abel was as smart and paranoid in this as he’s been about everything else up to this point.

“He took Cohen, Iris, and Maddox.”

I wait, but the list stops there. “Last time, he had people on the street.”

“Last time was different.” Gabriel tightens his grip on the wheel. He favors their father’s coloring the same way Abel does—dark hair, dark eyes—though his build is leaner. “It’s just them this time.”

“Fuck.” I brace my arm against the doorframe as we take another corner. We’re at the east entrance to Old Town, but Gabriel doesn’t stop there. He rounds the block and takes the street that runs parallel. I recognize where we’re headed a few moments before Gabriel slams to a stop near the dead end in the center of Old Town that houses the food trucks.

This is where Abel will meet with Chinh and the others.

It’s also where I would set up the ambush if I were Marie.

The years peel away, and I’m twenty-eight, sprinting through the streets with Bauer’s blood on my hands, seeing the haze of fire against the night sky and knowing that I’m already too late. I didn’t reach the house in time that night.

I have to reach Abel in time today.

I barely wait for the truck to stop before I throw open the door and jump out. Gabriel is right on my heels. I have the thought that he’s making sure I don’t escape or some shit, but it doesn’t matter as long as he stays close. It’s not until I’m squeezing through the gap between one of the food trucks and the wall that I realize a gun would be really useful right now. I have no weapon, nothing but my body and my words.

It will have to be enough.

But as I hear voices raised in anger and fear, I already know it won’t be. Too late. Too late. I am always too fucking late.

Gabriel and I burst out from behind the food trucks and into chaos. A shot sounds somewhere close, and the midday crowd of Old Town scatters. Some people duck into businesses. Some hunch over against the walls as if that will do a damn thing to protect them from a shooter.

We sprint for the knot of people in the middle of the tables. I catch sight of Chinh being bodily carried away by two of his grandsons, and then I see Abel, Cohen, and the others.

Time seems to slow down between one step and the next. I register things in flashes. Abel’s clenched jaw. The woman standing in front of him, her dark hair shining in the sunlight. The gun in her hand. So unassuming, almost boring, and yet representing the end of my and Harlow’s chance at happiness.

A mere ten feet separate them.

Marie will go for a body shot. She’s got a sadistic streak, and she’ll want to slow down Cohen and the others. Either to pick them off or to get away.

She’s going to shoot Abel.

I pour on the speed. I hear Gabriel curse behind me as he gets knocked off-course by a pair of men running in the opposite direction, and it’s just as well. This will all be over shortly.

Fuck, I should have apologized to Harlow earlier. I should have tracked Abel down and told him the truth the second I realized he didn’t die in that fire, instead of letting the years spin out between us. I should have done a lot of things.

Five feet between us now.

Abel catches sight of me, and the look on his face is horrible. I expect resignation or anger, but he looks fucking terrified. Not for himself. Of course the bastard is never worried about himself. His mouth moves and I might not be able to hear the words through the rushing in my ears, but I can read his lips well enough.

Eli, stop!

No. Fuck that. Fuck that.

I mourned this man during the long hours it took to put out that fire the night of the coup. And then I spent eight eternally long years mourning him a second time. I can’t survive a third. I refuse to.

I wish we had more time.

I wish the three of us had all the time in the world.

It’s okay. Harlow and Abel will take care of each other. They’ll be okay. Better than okay. The knowledge gives me one last burst of speed.

Marie’s hand moves on the gun, her finger tightening on the trigger.

I throw myself forward with everything I have, covering the distance between Abel and me in one giant leap. I hit him in the chest as something hot and painful blossoms in my back.

A woman is screaming. Someone fires a gun, and the screaming stops.

None of it matters because Abel’s got his arms around me, and he’s lost that terrified look. No, now he’s fucking furious, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He lowers me to the ground, which is a good thing because my legs don’t seem to be holding me all that well. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It takes me two tries to speak. “She was going to shoot you.”

“And now she shot you.” His face spasms as if he’s holding back too many emotions. “I’m laying you down. Do not pass out. Do you hear me, Eli? If you fucking die on me, I will march down to the doors of hell and fight the devil himself to get you back.” He eases me to the ground on my stomach.

This is nice. The world spins a little less now that I have my cheek against the concrete. I laugh a little, but it hurts, so I stop. “Harlow would kill us both.”

“Yeah, she would. So don’t die and get us in trouble.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I won’t, but darkness takes me before the words can leave my lips.