Chapter 34

The darkness is nearly perfect, with a full, cloudy sky that seems like a blessing, a sign that maybe this stupid move isn’t entirely reckless. But I wouldn’t have been able to say no to Bella regardless.

Wait. Actually, I had said no multiple times, but she’d worn me down, and finally, I’d given in with some rules. And that’s how I find myself with a supposed-to-be-dead Bella sitting in the passenger seat of Thomas’s work truck as we pull up to her house.

Well, what’s left of it.

It’s not as much of a burned-out husk as I’d feared, though. From the left side of the front yard, it even looks fine. Or at least as fine as it always was. But from the right, you can see the black char and destruction. The back corner, where the kitchen and living room sat, is basically gone, a black void into the heart of the house yawning open.

I look over at Bella to see how she’s taking this, expecting her to be on the verge of falling apart. But the reality seems to have either put her into shock, or she’s moving into an anger stage, because she looks fiercely determined in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

As I park, she moves her hand toward the handle. “No, we talked about this. Stay here until I clear everything.”

She nods, sighing and revealing a crack in her brave fa?ade. “I know. I just need to get in there and see what’s left.”

I rub her thigh comfortingly, making sure the switch on the dome light’s off to keep the car’s interior dark as I open the door. I don’t want to make it easy for anyone to see that it’s Bella. The whole point of using Thomas’s truck and both of us dressing in solid black with hoodies is so that anyone who happens to see us will assume we’re Thomas and Mia coming to check on the house.

I do a scan of the surrounding area, noting all the hiding spots even though I’ve done this multiple times before while I watched Bella. Then, I was looking for places I could hide. Now, I’m looking for possible threats.

Seeing nothing amiss, I open my door and get out, keeping my head on a swivel. Holding the button on the door handle, I close my door quietly before coming around, carefully walking to avoid stepping on any tree branches or anything else that might make noise. Bella maneuvers herself behind the wheel, poised to crank the engine and run like hell if she has to, and inside, I’m proud of her. She remembers the plan and is ready to jump into action if need be.

As I make the short walk toward the house, I keep my hands in my hoodie pocket, my right one gripping my pistol, ready for action. It seems strangely normal but at the same time silly to go up the two steps to the front door, considering there are gaping holes in the walls and the door itself has been kicked out. But the door frame’s still there, so that’s where I go.

Glancing back, Bella seems okay, or at least the truck is dark and quiet, so I proceed into the house. It’s an odd discord to go inside and be able to see the stars because of the huge holes in the roof. The one good thing? The place is still standing. It’s a miracle the fire department had anything except cinders to hose down, as old and dried as this place was.

Once I’m inside, I take my gun out, not worrying as much about visibility behind the few still-standing walls. I check each room, both my footing on the weakened structure and for anything or anyone threatening.

Back out front, I open the door for Bella. “How bad is it?” she asks.

“Not good. There’s a lot of damage you can’t see from the street, and the whole house has water damage.”

She nods grimly, seemingly prepping herself for the horror she knows she’s about to see.

Inside, she’s silent as she looks around. I keep expecting the tears to start back up, but she must be cried out because her expression stays stoic. Her borrowed black boot kicks out at the ashy remains piled up in what’s left of the living room floor. A pile of silvery grey dust puffs into the air at our feet and then falls to the cinderblock-framed ground we can see below since there’s no subfloor in this area anymore.

“Watch your step,” I warn, pulling her back. “I checked, but I can’t be sure it’ll hold.”

She backs up and moves towards the hall and I follow. I see her take a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling before she steps through to the guest bedroom. Even in the dim light, I can see her painting is ruined, the sheetrock saturated with water.

“I know it was just a painting,” she says, looking at the mess in front of her. “But it meant a lot to me. I painted that right after Reggie died, and it got me through those dark days when I’d lost everyone, everything. It was my therapy, a sign that there could still be beauty in the world, even if I had to make it myself.”

She moves to the wall, reaching out a hand to touch the color-smeared and crumbling sheetrock.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” I say softly, putting my free hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to see if there’s anything salvageable?”

She nods, kissing her fingertips and laying them over the spot where her family used to sit in their plane, memorialized and remembered.

In her bedroom, she squats down in front of the closet, blindly digging deep into the pile of things that have survived the fire. She pulls out a small metal case, about the size of a lunch box, and a sad smile lifts her lips.

“What’s that?”

“A memory box Reggie gave me when I first came here,” she says, reverently tracing the outside of the box. She opens it and her eyes shine with the tears I’ve been expecting as she looks heavenward. “Thank you.”

She picks up a few pieces of folded paper and some small squares that look to be photographs. Unable to see them in the dark, she lays them back into the beloved box and closes it with a soft snick. “Okay, this is all I need.”

I look at her, this woman who has survived her whole life with barely anything but hard times. And when life conspires to take even more from her, she doesn’t crumble, burnt and destroyed by the flames. No, she rises like a phoenix. She has only what she packed in her backpack and this metal box to her name, but it’s all she needs.

She is gloriously grateful and humble, knowing what’s truly important isn’t a house or clothes but memories and people.

“You ready?” I ask, giving her one last chance because I don’t know when we’ll be able to come back here with the dangers lurking around every corner.

She sighs but shakes her head and I step in front of her to lead us out.

I look down the hall before we exit the bedroom, carefully stepping our way back to what remains of the living room. Everything seems clear, but as I come around the corner, a sharp blow hits me in the jaw, sending me stumbling and taking me by surprise.

I don’t get surprised. Ever.

My instincts take over, and even though it’s damn near pitch black, I blindly turn to fight my attacker. I see a shape, and I focus on that, calling out to Bella, “Run. Go.”

I hear the scuffle of her feet and pray she’s doing as I said as I launch myself at the attacker. She needs to get out of here, leave me, and get to safety.

In the dark, there’s no space or time for throwing blows. Instead we wrestle, slamming each other against the weakened structure of the house. I’d try and use my gun against him, but he’s just as skilled as I am, using knees and elbows to blast me rapid-fire style, though I’m giving as good as he is. But I don’t have even half a second to reach into my pocket for the pistol, and firing into the dark is a dangerous option since I’m afraid I might hit Bella accidentally.

So I stick to keeping close enough to sense him, laying body shots when I can and blocking his hits as best I’m able. A moment later, I take a sudden knee to the balls, doubling me over in blinding pain.

As I bend over, I reach out to grab the backs of my attacker’s legs, taking him down and we scramble across the floor, which creaks eerily beneath the onslaught.

I already know this can’t be Carraby, there’s no way that pussy could give me this much fight even if he had a nightstick to help him.

So if it’s not him, coming to take advantage of Bella’s unexpected open-door policy, it’s somebody much, much worse. It’s something much worse.

“You fucked up, Angel,” a disembodied voice says from beneath me. The attacker might be on his back, but I don’t have a solid upper hand against him. He’s countering my every move, his jiu-jitsu so good I get the sense he’s playing with me. Like he knows my next move before I do.

And the fact that he called me by my professional name sends chills down my spine.

But this is life or death, and I fight with everything I have, every dirty trick I learned in my years of evil, because this is for Bella and I know it. I don’t care if I never leave this shell of a house, as long as she’s safe. I pray she’s long-gone by now, well on her way back to Mia’s.

I need to give her time to get away.

Half standing, I slam my knee into his kidney and pull back, getting to my feet. If I can’t beat him on the ground, then I have to take a chance of fighting him on his feet. My head’s still swimming. I’ve been rocked hard, but I position my body in between my attacker and the door, praying it gives Bella enough time.

My opponent follows me up, and I throw a right jab at the middle of his shape, the smack of my fist connecting with something hard. A small success that I follow up with a flurry of punches to the same area.

He grunts, but in the midst of the flurry, I feel my feet swept out from underneath me, and I’m slammed to the floor, my head bouncing off the floorboards and making the world swim. I hear a creak beneath me, and I wonder if the fire-weakened structure can withstand much more.

A hardened boot heel slams into my gut, adding to the ache in my balls, and I curl up, protecting my organs and coughing as the hot metallic taste of blood stains my tongue.

“You’re really a fallen angel now, Gabriel,” the voice says. I look up, and like divine intervention, the clouds part for a moment, letting the moon shine through, the empty roofbeams letting the light in.

It’s like seeing the devil come to life.

He’s tall, with dirty blonde hair and wearing all black. And fucking night vision goggles. That’s how he knew what moves I was making to counter me so well. I’m fighting blind in the dark, but for him, it may as well be daylight in the blackened ruins of Bella’s house.

He grins, and as he does, I see the slight pull of a scar by his mouth . . . a scar that is as much his calling card as my good looks.

Fucking Jericho.

He kicks again, my head snapping back, and this time, it’s my walls that are broken down, the world turning black once more.