30. Brie

CHAPTER 30

Brie

The safe room door slides shut with a pneumatic hiss, sealing Holden and me inside. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to break free. I press my palm to the metal door, imagining I can feel Nik's presence on the other side. The thought of her out there, facing unknown dangers while I'm locked away, makes my skin crawl.

"I should be out there with her," I whisper, more to myself than to Holden. It doesn't seem fair that I'm safe in here while Nik risks her life for me.

Again.

Holden doesn't respond. When I turn, I catch him staring at me with an unreadable expression. "This place is…impressive," he says, gesturing around the safe room.

I look around with him, imagining how he must see it: the security monitors lining one wall, showing every angle of the house and grounds; the hum of the air scrubbers; the shelves stocked with enough supplies to last weeks if necessary. This room has an adjoining bathroom with water- recycling and purifying facilities, and the walls were built to be near-impenetrable with a hybrid Kevlar and carbon fiber construction.

The light from the bank of monitors is bathing us both in an eerie glow as each screen flicks through a different view of the house and grounds.

"I had no idea you had all this," Holden says. He sounds almost envious. He shouldn't be. This room of supposed safety is only a reminder that we're both in danger.

"Terry insisted on it," I tell him wearily. "Said a woman in my position needed to be prepared for anything." The irony isn't lost on me. All this protection was available to him, too, and Terry still ended up dead.

I wonder if any amount of security can truly keep me safe in this world I've chosen.

Holden swallows hard. "He really cared about you, didn't he? I mean, this house, let alone just this room…it's incredible."

For a moment, I'm back in that trailer park in West Virginia, dreaming of a life so far beyond my reach it might as well have been on another planet. Now here I am, surrounded by luxury that would make my younger self's head spin.

But at what cost?

"All this—" I gesture around. "It's just stuff , Holden. Terry kept me safe because we made a deal, and yeah, maybe he cared about me. But this house isn't a reflection of how much he cared about me. It's a reflection of how scared he was that someone would find out his secrets."

Holden gives a sad smile. "I mean, you say that, Brie…but you were the one recognized as his partner. I loved him so much, but he never…" He cuts off with a catch in his throat.

My heart breaks for him. I've been so caught up in myself that I haven't been there to help Holden through his own grief—and it must be that much worse for him because he can't publicly display it. I go to him now and I hug him tight.

"He loved you," I tell Holden fiercely. "Terry loved you with his whole soul. He talked about you all the time, how proud he was of you, how happy you made him. And you'll see—when Frank gets the will sorted out, they'll all see, the Family—just how much you meant to Terry."

"I don't know," Holden frets. "That's the thing, Brie—has Frank even spoken to you about the will?" He pulls away and looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, has he put anything in motion, started the transfer of assets? He's supposed to notify any heirs. He hasn't spoken to me. Has he spoken to you?"

"I…Frank has been a little distracted," I say diplomatically. "But he's a good guy; I'm sure he's?—"

" Are you sure, though?" Holden asks, his voice so serious that I'm taken aback. "Because Frank Colombo is not a good guy, Brie."

I want to laugh, but I can't. Holden is right. Frank, just like everyone else in the Colombo Family, is not a good guy. "Trustworthy," I amend. But that doesn't feel quite right, either. "Honorable," I try. "He'll carry out Terry's wishes. And Holden—even if he doesn't, I'll make sure you get your fair share of?—"

"I don't care about that," Holden says impatiently. "Brie, I think you're putting way too much faith in Frank. He found Terry that night, didn't he? What if he…" He trails off.

I glance at the monitors again, wondering if Nik is alright. Praying that she's alright. "Nik and I have talked about Frank as a suspect, too," I admit softly to Holden. "So it's not that I'm blind to his faults. I just think he's too…" I don't want to call Frank dumb. "He doesn't have the technical knowledge to erase that footage, for one thing," I point out. "Anyway, right now we have other things to worry about."

But Holden doesn't seem ready to come back to the present. "Do you remember the night you and Terry and I first met?" he asks wistfully.

"Of course I do. You're the reason I'm still alive now."

"What do you mean?"

I laugh sadly. "Don't you remember, Holden? Terry was ready to kill me then and there when I saw him with you. It was only because of what you said that he didn't." I think about the Holden I've known these past years—sweet, smart, always eager to please. And like me, he has a way of influencing people. Convincing them to do things.

A less charitable way of describing us would be manipulative. But people like us wouldn't survive in this world without that skill. People like Nik, on the other hand…she's survived by being brave and taking action, just like she's doing now.

And I'm the one who manipulated her into this whole situation. There's no denying that. "Goddamn it," I snap, angry with myself, and frustrated all over again by just sitting around. "Move over a sec. Let me get a look at the security cameras."

Holden obligingly shifts over, and it's easy enough to search through the cameras and find where the action is happening after I turn on the night vision. Fear clutches at my gut when I see Lyssa's getting too close to Nik. Maybe I can help…

With a few taps on the control panel, I raise the downlights right over where Lyssa is standing, blinding and distracting her long enough for Nik to sneak away.

"But what are they doing now?" Holden asks, as transfixed as I am by the images. "They're all just standing there. Turn on the microphones."

I lean over and switch them on.

"—here to hurt you," one of them is saying. "There's a bigger picture you're not seeing."

"Enlighten me," I hear Nik growl, and as she defends me again to them, my heart swells with relief.

The fear is still there. But Nik really does trust me, enough to have my back even when she doesn't know I'm listening in. "She's not a killer," she's saying. "Don't you think she'd be out here facing you with me if she was?"

And then the scene is interrupted by a deafening crack that splits the air—and the house . The floor rumbles even here in the safe room as though an earthquake is passing through, and the monitors show the east side of the house exploding in a shower of glass and sparks before they go dark.

I lunge for the door, terror for Nik overriding everything else, but Holden's hand clamps down on my arm, yanking me back with surprising strength. "Are you crazy?" he hisses, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Nik told us to stay put no matter what . We're safe in here."

"Let go of me."

"Brie—"

"Let go of me," I say again, my voice low and dangerous.

It's the same voice I used that night my mother's boyfriend cornered me in the trailer. I've never heard myself sound that way in all the years since, but now it comes naturally, as if fear for Nik has unlocked something in me.

Something malevolent.

Holden's grip loosens, and he steps back, hands raised and shaking slightly. "Seriously, Brie, you should stay right here. Nik told you?—"

He breaks off as I press my palm to the biometric panel, open the door, and bolt. My bare feet slap against the cool tile as I race toward the noise. This house that was meant to be my sanctuary now feels like one big trap, shadows lurking in every corner.

But I'll be damned if I let anyone keep me from Nik right now.

And as I race through the house—stopping briefly in my bedroom to grab the revolver I keep in there and to shove sneakers onto my bare feet—I feel the last vestiges of all those carefully-constructed personas crumbling down.

The glamorous ex-showgirl, the gold-digger, the Mob wife…that Brie falls away. In her place stands someone I met a long time ago, someone I've been running from since I was sixteen years old.

Someone harder. Colder.

Someone ready to do whatever it takes to survive.

I hear the roaring sound of fire as I skid around a corner into the living room and stop dead in shock. Thick glass pebbles are scattered all over the floor from the bulletproof windows—no match for whatever weapon was used on them—and make a treacherous path for my bare feet. I pause for a heartbeat, my hand on the wall, and wonder if this is going to be a fatal mistake.

But Nik is out there, fighting for me . And I'm done being the damsel in the tower.

I creep through the shattered remains of my sanctuary, trying to pick a path between the glass. I pause, straining my ears. Faint footsteps echo from a nearby room, the sound of glass shifting under careful tread. My breath catches in my throat. "Nik?" I whisper, hoping against hope it's my protector and not one of the Syndicate women hunting us.

Did they do this? Destroy my home?

Silence is the only answer. I inch forward in air thick with smoke. As I get near the end of the hallway, a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision is my only warning. A hand clamps over my mouth, an arm like an iron band around me, yanking me backward. Panic surges through me. I kick out, struggling against my captor with every ounce of strength I possess.

"It's me," Nik's voice hisses in my ear, barely audible.

I go limp with relief, sagging against her. Nik's grip loosens slightly, but she doesn't let go. Her breath is warm against my neck as she murmurs, "The other two don't know who shot that rocket at the house either."

Lyssa and Scarlett are dangerous enough on their own, but an unknown shooter adds a whole new level of threat. I turn my head slightly, meeting Nik's eyes in the dim light filtering through the broken windows. Her face is a mask of concentration, eyes sharp as she scans our surroundings.

"What's the plan?" I breathe, barely moving my lips.

Nik's response is grim. "Let them shoot it out. Whoever's left standing, we deal with."

I think of Holden, still hidden in the safe room, and pray he stays put. We stand frozen, barely breathing, as the sounds of searching grow closer. Glass skips across the floor and I tense, pressing back against Nik. Her arms tighten around me, both protective and reassuring.

The moment stretches, taut as a bowstring. I can hear my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears. I'm terrified that even that small movement might give us away.

A shadow comes into view and I bite down on my lip to keep from gasping. Nik's arms press more firmly around me, a silent reminder to stay quiet. The shadow pauses, and for a terrifying moment, I'm sure we've been spotted.

Then, mercifully, it moves on. I let out a shaky breath, lightheaded with relief.

But the reprieve is short-lived. A voice calls out, shattering the tense silence. "Mrs. Diamond? Are you here?"

I go rigid.

And then the shadow reappears, slowly growing larger, until the owner of that shadow—of that voice—comes into view, holding a wicked-looking rifle.

It's Katy, the cleaning manager at Solara.