Chapter 17

17

T he coppery tang of blood fills my nose as Wells drags me across the marble floor toward the bedroom.

My hands scramble against the cold tiles, searching for anything to grasp onto. "How could you do this? You're an officer of the law! I trusted you!"

"You're as stupid as your brother," he sneers, his face devoid of compassion.

The edge of the vanity bites into my palm, and my eyes latch on to the sharp weapon taped to the underside.

Wells's grip on my ankle tightens, grinding my bones together, and he yanks hard.

My nails break as I lose hold of the cabinet and skid forward along the tiled floor. He turns away, focusing on the bedroom, and I lunge upward, desperately reaching for the knife. I rip it free from the tape, and I almost drop it as my hands tremble with fear.

Wells doesn't notice the knife as he drags me out of the bathroom, and pain flares up my tailbone as my ass bounces over the threshold, followed by the burn of carpet against my skin.

Next to the bed, he drops my leg and bends over me, like a predator about to take the final strike. The thought of Dylan suffering at the hands of a monster like this fuels my determination to fight, to survive.

"Get away from me!" With all the strength I can muster, I rear up and stab him in the same shoulder where I shot him.

He shouts in pain and stumbles back, reaching for the knife.

Panic and adrenaline propel me into action, and I scramble to my feet, racing out of the bedroom and crashing into someone coming toward me from the stairs.

A strong arm catches me, and Caleb's familiar scent offers a moment of relief.

He swings me to the side, turning his body into a shield as Wells comes charging after me. Caleb fires the gun he carries, shooting Wells in both knees. The large man crumples, and with a powerful kick to the face from Caleb, Wells crashes to the floor, unconscious.

When Caleb lowers his weapon, I grab his forearm, trying to force it back up. "What are you doing? Kill him! He sold Dylan to a cannibal!"

Caleb looks down at me, a murderous set to his features. "I plan to, and if you want to see it happen, you're welcome to be present. But first, we need to get as much information out of him as possible."

My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, the reality of what just happened washing over me in waves. Bile rises in the back of my throat, but I force it down.

Caleb's hand on my shoulders guides me back into the bedroom, and he checks me over with concern. "Dammit, Oliver. You're all cut up again."

An edge of anger sharpens the words, but it's not directed at me. A shiver wracks my body as the adrenaline wears off and the pain creeps in.

Caleb cups my cheek. "You did well. And as soon as you're healed again, I'm taking you for target practice. The next time you point a gun at someone, you'll kill them."

"I hope there's not a need for it in the future." My vision blurs, and I move to wipe away the tears .

Caleb grabs my wrist to stop me. "Wait, don't touch your face. You might have glass in your hands."

"I'm not hurt that bad." I'm barely even bleeding anymore.

He scans my body, cataloging my injuries, and determines that my wounds aren't life threatening, because he steps back. "Stay still while I contain Wells before he regains consciousness."

He fetches cuffs from the closet and clicks them around Wells's wrists and ankles, then stuffs a gag into his mouth, a shout comes from downstairs, and I flinch in fear.

Is there another intruder?

"Caleb?"

Relief sweeps through me when I recognize Damien's voice.

"Oliver and I are alive," Caleb calls back. "There's another one in the kitchen."

Caleb looks at me, his expression grave. "The police officer from last time was working with Wells. I was taking care of him when Wells snuck past. I'm sorry, Oliver. I should've been here sooner."

Before I can respond, Liam appears in the doorway.

His eyes dart between Caleb and Wells, assessing the situation, then settle on me. They widen, and he reaches out for me. "Let me patch you up, sweetness."

"Touch him, and I'll shoot you," Caleb snarls, his protective instincts kicking in. "Or maybe I'll give Oliver the gun, and he can use you as target practice."

Liam raises his hands in mock self-defense but winks at me. "The idea of you with a weapon is hot."

"Get Wells and leave. The real cops will be arriving soon," Caleb orders.

Liam strides forward to grab Wells but pauses without touching the man. "You went overboard, Caleb. I'll have to patch him up before I throw him in the trunk, or he'll bleed out."

"Only half the damage came from me. Oliver did the rest." Fierce pride shines down at me before it vanishes as he turns to Liam. "Keep Wells alive long enough to be questioned."

"I'll do my best. Damien's securing the other one downstairs." Liam heads into the bathroom and comes out with tape and towels.

He binds the worst of Wells's wounds with quick efficiency, the white terrycloth turning crimson as it soaks up the blood.

As Liam hoists Wells over his shoulder and carries him out of the bedroom, satisfaction fills me, knowing that I played a part in stopping this man from hurting anyone else. But at the same time, a hollow emptiness opens in my chest, knowing now that nothing will bring Dylan back.

Caleb stares down at the bloodstain left behind on the floor. "Dammit. Now we need another remodel."

"What about the cops?" My voice cracks on the question, not sure I'll ever trust the police again. "How do we clean all this up before they arrive?"

"Damien will turn on an action movie and take care of it. The mess downstairs isn't quite this spectacular." Then Caleb turns to me, and his expression softens. "If you want me to play nursemaid, you don't have to go to this extreme."

A hysterical laugh escapes me, the short, choked sound dissolving into crying. My vision blurs, and salty tears slip past my lips.

Caleb pulls me into his arms, mindful of my injuries. "Let it all out. I've got you."

His warmth envelops me, the familiar scent of him providing a small measure of comfort. In his embrace, I finally allow myself to grieve the loss of my brother.