33. ~Skylar~

I looked over at Bastian.

His character had just walked right on by the cave we’d been searching for over the last couple of hours of our game play.

He wasn’t the only one being all spacey and unfocused about it. I’d ended up getting killed by a noob—twice now.

“This isn’t working.”

He swung his head my way as he sat on the edge of the opposite couch. “What?”

I rolled my eyes. “You can cut the fake calm act.”

“Sky—”

“I know you’re employing it in a bid to keep me calm, so I don’t use my skills to sneak out of here and go back either Caspian or Caleb up on their respective missions.”

“Well, you can be a loose cannon. A sexy-as-fuck loose cannon.”

“Nice try at trying to soften it. You’re right, though. But it’s how I was. I’m not anymore, not now we’ve all worked through everything, not now that we’re all together, Bastian. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t jeopardize it all by doing something so stupid and shortsighted.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be shortsighted. It would be you wanting to protect your men, baby. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that sentiment.”

“But the execution would be.”

“It would be too dangerous. For you, for Cas and his men too because they’d spent so long working everything out. To have a new element thrown into the mix would cause issues.”

“I know. I understand.” I put my controller down and rose to my feet. “It doesn’t make it easy to ride the proverbial bench, though.”

“No. It doesn’t. I feel you there. Absolutely.”

He turned off the console, then dropped his controller too. He came to me and slid his hands down to my hips, caressing soft circles. “How about we go do some knife-throwing? It’s a good distraction. It’s got the focus mixed with the violence that you get off on.”

“That I get off on? Pot. Kettle.”

He smirked. “I do miss it a bit, yeah. I’m betting Cas is gonna startup The Jackals again soon, once this war is done.”

“You think?” I asked, realizing just how hopeful I was about that. I’d been trying not to think about that or anything like it after what I’d done during those takedowns. But it had kept creeping up on me, reminding me that it was a missing piece of me that I could never fully deny.

“We’re all stabilized now. Better than ever before, actually.”

“What about him wanting to walk away from the dark?”

“A lot has changed in two years. He wasn’t able to step away. And I think this war has reminded him that it’s a part of him that he can’t just bury. He needs the outlet like the three of us do.”

“Just not in the form of back-to-back takedowns like it ended up becoming before.”

“Yeah, that was too much. It took a lot out of him.”

I stretched onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Let’s grab our knives.”

He smiled and took my hand, and we headed out of the den.

We’d only made it a little ways down the corridor when his phone rang.

We both came to an abrupt stop, hope sparking that it was Caspian or Caleb calling to tell us at least one of them had successfully completed their operations, and confirming that they were well.

He frowned as he pulled his phone from the back pocket of his ripped blue jeans. “It’s Ashley.”

“The model from your support group?”

“Yeah.”

He hesitated, looking between me and the phone.

I rolled my eyes. “Bastian, you nearly dated her. You didn’t actually. You don’t need to feel awkward. Especially with Jeremy factored in.” He growled at that. “She’s your friend. Go ahead, take the call,” I insisted.

He nodded, then answered, “Sebastian, what’s up, Ashley?” He went stock-still as he listened to whatever she was saying. His grip tightened around the phone to the point of painful pressure, his eyes flashing. “What about the cops? Okay, yeah, I get it. I’ll be right there. Do not open the door. It’s gonna be okay. Take a breath, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“What’s happened?” I asked, as soon as he hung up.

“Her troublesome ex is wailing on her apartment door. Sounds like he’s high out of his mind. He’s claiming she owes him money.”

“Drug money?”

“Pretty much. But she paid him back. Paid him off, is more like it, so he’d stay out of her life, and so she could stay out of his and get clean. Like I said, high out of his mind.”

“And you’re heading over there right now?”

“She needs help. Calling the cops has her worried it’ll draw press attention and fuck up her image and rep she’s spent months trying to piece back together.”

I nodded my understanding. “I’m coming with you.”

“Sky—”

I grasped my pendant. “Together, right, Bastian?”

He smiled and came to me, wrapping his arm around me. “Together, beautiful.”

Apartment had been understating it.

Ashley Morrison lived in one hell of a swanky penthouse.

Ultra-modern, open concept with a pastel palette guiding the décor. Particularly pink.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to give it more than a cursory glance as I followed Bastian through. The door had been wide open, the top hinge ripped from the door frame, when we’d arrived.

Thuds and screams guided us onward through the main living area and we veered down a brightly lit corridor, silver-painted walls lit by fairy lights and pink pot lights illuminating the way.

I swung my head toward the left to another open door. “Here,” I told Bastian, discerning the voices as coming from within.

A female scream shot right through me. “Stop! Please, Billy. I don’t have anything here for you! I don’t!”

“That’s her,” Bastian confirmed.

We bolted inside to see a lanky guy wearing board shorts and a tank ripping a drawer out of a dresser and tossing it across the room. The whole place was turned upside down, clothes, jewelry and photo frames, along with shattered glass all over the floor, the pastel-pink sheets of the heart-shaped bed rumpled, the sliding glass closet doors shattered too, one ripped partially off the track and hanging there precariously.

The guy kept wiping his nose, as he opened the next drawer roughly and started rummaging.

He pulled up short when he finally noticed us, and jerked his head our way. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ashley’s screams through another door—an ensuite bathroom from what I could make out from my vantage point—had Bastian shuddering. “Go,” I told him. “I’ve got this one.”

He hesitated for a moment, before taking off.

“Motherfucker!”I heard him growling a moment later, followed by several thuds and the grunts of a guy within.

“You’ve got me, do you, sweet cheeks?” Cokehead sneered.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“This shit here isn’t your business. Get out while you can. It would be a shame to mess up such a pretty face.” He shoved his greasy gray hair out of his eyes and eye fucked me. “Or that smoking hot body.”

He stepped up to me, eyes drawn to my cleavage visible in my white lacy tank with my blue leather jacket only zipped up halfway. “Actually, while you’re here, how about you take the edge off for me?” He reached for his belt and started unbuckling it. “You’re in for a treat. Get on your knees and I won’t hurt you, and I’ll make damn sure Billy won’t either. Yeah? Open that pretty mouth for me?”

Jeez. Ashley’s ex obviously wasn’t the only one high out of his mind. Who the hell came onto somebody like this, in this sort of situation?

“How about you open yours, sweet cheeks?”

Stupefaction filled his features. “What the—”

I swung, my fist plowing into the side of his face, making his head snap to the side.

As he wavered, I delivered another blow, this time an uppercut, then spun into him, snagged his elbow and hooked his knee, ripping his leg out from under him.

He went down hard and screamed as I wrenched his arm, still holding onto it even as he fell. I slammed my boot down onto his diaphragm, making him choke and struggle for breath, as I leaned in and grasped his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

“Like I said, you piece of shit,” I growled.

I released him roughly, then thrust my boot into his face, knocking him out cold.

And then I rushed into the bathroom to see Bastian finishing off Ashley’s ex, fisting his hand in the back of his hair, then smashing his face into the towel rail and knocking him out.

As he collapsed onto the tiled floor in a heap, we both turned to take in Ashley who was huddled in the corner by the toilet, one eye swollen and her arm bloodied, likely from all the glass. She was just in a pair of small pajama shorts and a strappy top, so I grabbed a fluffy robe from the hook on the back of the door and draped it over her as Bastian crouched down in front of her.

She smiled up at me. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“It’s over now,” Bastian told her. “He won’t be bothering you again, you have my word.”

“Thank you so much for coming. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Sebastian.”

He smiled and took her hand. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Her eyes shone. “Yeah.” She looked out at me. “Are you… you’re Skylar Bennett?”

“That’s me.”

She gestured between us, then said to Bastian, “Told you it could be worked out. Got your girl back. I’m glad.” She grinned out at me. “He was lost without you.”

“Hey, lost is a bit of an exaggeration.”

I chuckled.

Bastian helped her to her feet and we led her out of the bathroom. “Let me make a call. I’ll get a medic in here to take a look at your arm, and a couple of Caspian’s guys to secure those assholes and this place.”

“Thank you,” she said, clinging to him. “So much. Both of you.”

Bastian rubbed her back and comforted her, smiling out at me.

I smiled back and winked at him.

“I need a smoke on the balcony,” she said, pulling away.

As she headed off shakily to do that, Bastian pulled out his phone. He stilled for a moment as he took in my opponent. “Nicely done as always.” His eyes hooded. “Fucking hot too.”

I waved him off. Now really wasn’t the time. Although, violence and fucking were my jam, so it was just as hard for me as it was for him to deny the latter. I knew what we’d be doing for the rest of the night now until we heard from Caspian and Caleb.

He grinned and sent the necessary texts.

Caspian’s empire was stretched thin tonight, but Bastian still got a response just a few moments later.

“They’re on their way,” he told me.

“Good.”

He went to put his phone away, but it started ringing, pulling him up short.

He took in the call display, then told me, “It’s Luke.”

He put it on speakerphone mode and we huddled together as he answered.

“Luke, is everything okay?”

“Tell me you’re at King Manor.”

“Actually, no. Sky and I had something that needed seeing to. But we’re about to head back there. Why?”

“Return immediately and text me once you’re safe inside the mansion walls.”

“Safe?” Bastian and I exchanged a worried look.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Elijah has evaded us. We’re trying to get a lock on him and a handful of his merry band of mercenaries still remaining. It’s a possibility that he may be headed for Rossun to punish King. Bastian, you know the best way for him to do that—through those he loves. So get home ASAP.”

Bastian frowned in thought. “Why aren’t we hearing this from Cas directly? What’s happened?”

“He’s in no state currently.”

“He’s hurt?” I asked in a freaked-out rush.

“Physically, he’s fine.”

“Luke,” Bastian pressed, wanting more details.

“Later. For now, get home.”

He hung up and Bastian and I stared at one another, worry infiltrating everything.

Oh my God.

We hadn’t spokena word since a couple of Caspian’s guys had arrived to secure the scene at Ashley’s, and we’d gotten back in Bastian’s car.

Both of our minds were going a million miles a minute, trying to absorb the content of Luke’s call.

They hadn’t managed to get Elijah.

That asshole was still alive.

Worse, he could be coming for all of us.

An unhinged madman hopped up on retribution.

Desperate from the losses he’d sustained tonight too.

The latter just added a whole other dangerous element to the situation.

A desperate person had no limits.

“We need to call Caleb,” I said, finally cutting through the silence. “I know he could still be in the middle of the op, but—”

“I’m with you.”

I nodded and pulled out my phone to do just that, to warn him. For all we knew, Caspian already could have, but just to be extra sure.

Before I could dial, the car suddenly lurched.

Bastian cursed and tried to right it, but it wasn’t just us hitting a pothole on the backroad we were taking back to King Manor as a precaution in case Elijah was headed for us. It kept at that unstable angle, then rolled along unsteadily.

“It’s a fucking flat,” Bastian ground out.

I pointed up ahead, seeing a gas station just a few hundred feet away. “Pull in there and we’ll see to it. You’ve got a spare, right?”

“Yeah.”

He slowed his speed to be safe and we pulled into the small gas station with just two pumps and a small little store.

The lights were off with nobody inside, the place closed.

Only a single floodlight lit the space.

At least it would be enough for us to see in order to change the flat.

We both hopped out of the car and inspected the tire, determining it to be the front left at the driver’s side.

My breath caught in my throat when I took in the damage. “Somebody did this.”

“What?” Bastian asked, crouching down to see what I was.

“Looks like a nail, maybe,” I determined.

We both shot to our feet and scanned the immediate area.

A car zoomed on by, ripping around a corner, and jolting the crap out of us, only to pass on by—a Jaguar. Phew.

“Let’s hurry up and change this fucking thing,” Bastian said, jogging to the trunk.

He was throwing it open a moment later and rustling around for the jack and the tire itself.

I went to him as he was rolling the tire over and grabbed the jack from him, positioning it.

I didn’t get much further than that when the rolling thunder of more approaching vehicles had our paranoia resurfacing.

We took in three white vans hurtling down the road, coming around the same corner that the other vehicle had.

But these didn’t simply pass on by.

No. They came right for us.

In the next second, Bastian was ripping his spare knife from his ankle holster and tossing it to me.

As I caught it, he drew his main blade from his jacket.

“Take cover!” he called to me as the vans squealed into the gas station.

He grabbed my hand and we ran toward the closed store.

Heavy footsteps sounded and I shot a look over my shoulder to see eight guys in oversized sweats with hoodies hiding their features barreling toward us. Shit.

I smashed my boot into the door of the gas station. It didn’t give.

Bastian joined me, but it still didn’t budge.

“I can pick the lock,” I told him.

“Do it, I’ll hold them off.”

As I crouched down and used the blade—not exactly the most optimal tool—to get to work, Bastian spun toward the incoming onslaught.

“Bane wants a word,” one of them said.

“Invitation declined,” Bastian bit back.

I heard a scream and I looked quickly to see his blade now buried in one of the guy’s eyes.

Another lunged at him, but Bastian sidestepped him, then swept his leg at him, ripping him off his feet. He sprinted forward, ripped his knife from the other guy’s eyeball just before he collapsed, screaming, then he spun around to toss it at another incoming.

Before he could, I yelled out a warning as I saw another coming at his back.

It was too late, though, as the guy snagged his knife-wielding arm, stopping the throw.

As Bastian moved to break the guy’s grip, another jumped on him.

I gritted my teeth.

Screw this.

It was too late for the lock picking.

I ran into the fray, ripping one guy off Bastian, using his momentum against him to haul him into the gas station column.

As he jarred painfully against it, I slammed my knee into his gut, making him double over. I used the opportunity to fist my hand in his hood, then drive him down into my knee, smashing it into his face and knocking him out cold.

Bastian roared and I looked to see him taking a guy down to the ground, the opponent’s head smacking into the concrete, his skull cracking under the brutality.

He didn’t even get to take a breath after that victory when another three jumped at him.

Before I could run to his aid, two came at me.

I kicked one back, then spun to do the same to the other, but he managed to catch my ankle mid-kick, then shoved me back. I landed on my ass.

A fist slammed into my face and another into my gut in quick succession.

I choked up blood, but managed to twist onto my side.

Before I could get to my feet, a boot smashed into the side of my head, forcing me back down.

“Sky!” I heard Bastian screaming.

I didn’t get the chance to look out and see how he was doing as two sets of hands wrenched me to my feet.

I struggled wildly.

“Still not subdued enough,” one of them said.

In the next second, I was being hauled away.

Bastian’s roar cut through the chaos as I sailed through the air, then slammed into the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gas station store. The impact had me crashing right through, glass shattering all around me and making me wince as it dug into my flesh.

I landed hard on my stomach, just managing to brace myself with my hands and keep from destroying my face from the fall.

Groaning, I went to get up, only for a searing pain to tear through my left side.

My hands were shaking as I reached down to the site and I lifted the side of my jacket to see a jagged piece of glass protruding from my flesh.

Fuck. This was bad.

I tried again, but I couldn’t get up, a scream tearing from my throat from the effort.

But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give in.

Bastian needed me.

I couldn’t leave him out there against them alone.

Digging my nails into the rough floor, I dragged myself along, inch by excruciating inch until I reached the door and was able to see outside.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw Bastian being beaten down.

My vision was partially blocked as four guys strode toward the store, coming for me.

And then a ear-piercing squealing sounded.

A moment later, I was just able to make out that Jaguar from earlier ripping into the area.

“Go! Take him!” I heard the attackers yelling about Bastian.

“Fucking get her! Now!” another called out, which had the guys coming toward me speeding up.

They came in through the shattered glass window, shadows looming over me, coming closer and closer.

And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

I couldn’t help Bastian either.

“Bastian!” I choked out. “No!”

“Seb!”

I stilled at the sound of that familiar voice.

Damien?

I heard a commotion, guys screaming, and then Bastian roared out, “No! Save her!”

“Seb—”

“Please, brother!”

I heard Damien cursing.

And then the guys were on me, dragging me out through the window and really antagonizing my injury as they forced me along. I could feel blood dripping down my side, over my shirt and pants, and I caught sight of it soaking the ground too.

A roar sounded, and in moments they were ripped from me.

I hit the ground again, and craned my neck through now rapidly blurring vision as the blood loss started to take me down, to see Damien tearing into them really fucking brutally.

As soon as he’d put them down, I saw him rush toward Bastian.

But it was too late.

He was already being shoved into one of the vans.

“Noooo!” I cried weakly.

Before Damien could get close enough, it tore back down the road.

I saw him start toward his car, but then he pulled up short when he looked at me.

In the next moment, he was rushing over to me and hauling me into his arms. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Bluebell. I’ve got you.”

It was the last thing I was aware of before blackness descended.