6. Elara

Chapter 6

Elara

T empest Callahan and Miguel Rossi stride through the front door of Farrow Estate like they own the place, leather and scruff highlighting their preference for darkness. The Vultures' presence makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end even though I'm the one who looked up Tempest's number in the online campus directory and blubbered out my need for incognito medical help.

Kaspian was shot, my mom did it, and I'm desperate not to call the police.

Both men are incredibly handsome, but my attention lands on Rossi and doesn't move for a good few seconds. Maybe because I'd already dissected Tempest's good looks when he cornered me in front of an abandoned mine a few weeks ago, and Rossi, former Professor at TFU, is now a whispered myth around campus.

His dark chocolate hair flows back from a sharp, jaded face. The golden undertones in his skin and subtle streaks of white in his hair aren't enough for the angel to win over the devil. He's tall, huge, and, according to Tempest, a former surgeon.

My eyes drop to Rossi's hands. Ones that when spread, could cover my entire face with ease.

I meet them at the base of the staircase, my arms tight at my sides.

Sasha's still shouting in the background as Kaspian tries to fight her off and staunch his own wound, and my mother's monotone voice is the percussion as she discusses the situation while shut in her bedroom with my invisible, dead father.

"Thank you for coming. He's in here," I say to them once Rossi's bottomless, black stare meets mine. Tempest merely arches an ebony brow over wintergreen eyes.

I lead them into the dilapidated sitting room, where Kaspian slouches forward on a tattered sofa chair, pale and sweating, but stubborn as an ass. Sasha huffs behind him, glaring at the back of his head. Kaspian's eyes narrow at the sight of Tempest, who lets out a low whistle upon noticing him. "Well now, this is turning out to be an interesting evening."

"Shut up," Kaspian snarls.

"Make me." Tempest smirks. "Unless you want to finish what your girlfriend's mommy started?"

Kaspian's lip curls into a sneer, rage simmering beneath the surface. "I wouldn't come to you buzzards for help if my head was on a block."

"Enough," I snap, even as my stomach flips at the fact Kaspian didn't deny the girlfriend part of Tempest's sentence.

Yes, I am either so in shock or so unhinged that I'm actually delighted at this moment.

"I asked them here. I had no choice," I say when Kaspian unhinges his jaw, likely to say something heinous. "No one else picked up their phone, including Cav."

They turn to look at me, Kaspian's anger fading into surprise.

Kaspian's lashes flicker, temporarily shading the toxic green of his eyes before he schools his expression. I resist the urge to question him on what awful news would keep the guys from answering my calls, choosing to focus on the present.

Rossi lowers his brows, snuffing out any shred of light from his eyes. "Believe me, Mr. Valenti, I'd much rather return to my manor where I was rather enjoying my weekend away from the city with a beautiful woman. You've interrupted. So rather than bleed out on Elara's chair, let's make this quick for all of us."

Kaspian grits his teeth as Rossi approaches with his medical bag, the former surgeon's movements precise and efficient.

I didn't notice that Sasha had sidled up to my side until she squeezes my arm. She says so only I can hear, "I heard Rossi's in the mafia now. There's a mafia don in your fucking. House."

I nod, like this is normal.

Rossi kneels beside the sofa chair, setting down a black leather medical bag and unzipping it to reveal an array of surgical instruments. Kaspian eyes the scalpels and forceps with suspicion, his muscles tensing beneath his blood-soaked white shirt.

I raise my brows at Sasha, impressed she got the blazer off him.

"He told me he'd turn the blazer into a noose around my neck if I so much as touched him," she mutters to me. "God forbid I try to use Armani as a tourniquet."

"I don't need your help," Kaspian growls at Rossi, even as his face drains of color.

Rossi ignores him, donning black latex gloves with a snap.

"Hold him down," he instructs Tempest, who stands behind Kaspian, gripping his shoulders firmly.

"Is he going to be okay?" I ask.

The way Kaspian's body torqued backward after the bullet hit him, the surprise on his face, the idea of him dying at my feet…

I suppress an agonized moan at the thought.

"He'll live," Tempest says, his tone bored. "Rossi's patched up worse."

I hover nearby, my throat aching as I watch Rossi cut away the fabric around Kaspian's shoulder. Blood wells up from the bullet hole, dark and viscous. Rossi swabs it away dispassionately.

"The bullet's still in there," he announces after a moment's probing. "I'll need to extract it before I can close the wound."

Kaspian blanches but remains silent, his jaw clenched so tightly I fear his teeth might shatter. Sasha whimpers, releasing me hand to cover her mouth.

"If anyone feels the urge to vomit, I suggest you leave."

Rossi selects a long pair of forceps from his bag.

"This will hurt," he warns Kaspian, almost as an afterthought before he inserts the instrument into the gory hole in Kaspian's flesh.

"I'm going to go sit with your mom," Sasha says, almost sprinting for the door.

Kaspian lifts his head and finds me, the green depths glazed with pain. I step closer, my hand finding his. I keep the shock from my face when his fingers tighten around mine, his grip crushing.

Tempest tightens his hold on Kaspian, biceps flexing as he pins Kaspian against the seatback. I look away, bile rising in my throat, but I can't block out the wet squelch of metal in meat or Kaspian's agonized groans.

Rossi makes quick work of the rest, irrigating the wound and stitching it closed with brutal efficiency. Kaspian has gone limp, his head lolling, unconscious from the pain and blood loss.

Maybe the one, the only time, I'll see him weak.

"He'll need some recovery time," Rossi says, stripping off his gloves. He packs up his supplies and rises to his feet. "Keep the wound clean and dry. Change the dressings daily."

I nod mutely, not trusting myself to speak. Tempest releases his hold on Kaspian and steps back, cracking his neck.

"Kaspian will be out for a while," Tempest says. "Don't move him until he wakes."

"Thank you for your assistance." The words feel wooden on my tongue. I owe the Vultures a debt for saving Kaspian's life, but that doesn't mean I have to like them. I called Tempest because I had no other option, but his reasons for accepting remain a mystery.

Why did they help me?

Rossi gives me a once-over, as if sensing the direction of my thoughts. "He'll be all right, Elara."

His quiet assurance makes me want to sob with relief, but I hold myself steady.

"Care to explain what occurred here?" he asks.

"My mother, she's not well," I say hoarsely, still clinging to Kaspian's limp hand. "If you don't mind, could you take a look at her next?"

Rossi doesn't move. I grimace, preparing for the word please , until he says, "We know all about your mother's illness. After a few phone calls, there's a vacancy for her at the a private psychiatric facility in the city. With your permission, she can be settled there by morning."

My eyes grow hot, and it hurts to raise them, to meet his black, tarred gaze?—

Until I'm absorbed by the warmth in them. The care.

Is this what the girl he's with sees? The water under the ice, the promise of life once he thaws?

I manage to respond, "I appreciate your help, truly. But I need some kind of assurance that my mother will be safe and cared for."

"You have my word," Rossi says. "That alone is enough."

The rigid conviction in his tone almost makes me fall to my knees and assure him that I believe him so he doesn't kill me.

I nod, my throat constricting. Entrusting my mother's well-being to the Vultures feels like a deal with the devil, but what choice do I have? Involving the police would bring more scandal, more questions, implicating Kaspian and the Court. Involving the Sovereigns.

I crush Kaspian's hand in my grip. I can't let that happen.

"We won't tell anyone about tonight," Tempest adds a bit reluctantly.

"Why would you help me?"

I shouldn't ask it, what with looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I can't confidently let them leave until I hear some sort of reason as to why the Vultures would help a member of the Court. Help me .

Rossi inclines his head. "You're involved with the Cimmerian Court. I have a particular weakness for women who aren't afraid of dangerous men and have acquired an insatiable need to protect those who deserve it." He glances down at my white-knuckled hand on Kaspian's. "You strike me as one of them."

"I don't know how I fell in with them," I find myself saying, "But as much as I've tried, I don't want to leave them."

Rossi's lips curve in the barest hint of a smile.

"Are you still after the ruby Heart, Elara?" Tempest asks.

Any softness is ripped from Rossi's face as he whirls on Tempest. "What did you just say?"

Silence descends, broken only by Kaspian's labored breathing.

I shuffle back, my gaze darting between Tempest and Rossi. The latter's face hardens, his eyes narrowing to obsidian slits, and I get the feeling Tempest's question was made with deliberate timing to alert his leader that I've bitten off more than I can chew.

"The Heart is a dangerous artifact," Rossi tells me, his voice low and warning. "It's not something to be trifled with."

"Oh, so you believe it exists, now?" I swallow after blurting the question, my mouth suddenly dry.

Thankfully, Rossi ignores my sarcasm, his attention fixed on Tempest.

"What are you implying?" His voice is hard as metal, each word sharp as his scalpel.

Tempest holds his ground. "Sarah Anderton's legendary ruby Heart. Elara's been asking around about it."

"And you didn't think to mention this sooner?" Rossi advances on Tempest, his movements volcanic.

I find my voice, though it wobbles. These are scary men. "What do you know about the Heart?"

They both turn to me, Rossi's gaze sharpening, Tempest's lips curving. "Enough to know my warning to you still stands."

Rossi silences him with a look before recentering on me. "A lot of people who've searched for the ruby Heart and its fortune have died, Elara. Whatever Cavanaugh Nightshade has told you, what you think you know, whatever you're planning, stop. Now."

"I can't." I force my chin up for what I'm about to say next. "I'm not one of you. Or part of the Court. But I'm someone with a vested interest in that ruby."

I leave out the bombshell that I'm Sarah Anderton's descendant. If Tempest and Rossi are holding back information, then so will I.

I straighten my spine. "I need it."

"For what?" Rossi's voice is low, a mere purr in his chest.

I hesitate, glancing down at Kaspian's pallid face, his blood staining my fingers. Just last night, I was determined to go against them and find my own answers about the Heart and why it was so important that Maverick had to die for it. Then my mother held a gun, pointed it at Kaspian?—

And I realized I don't want to be their enemy. I can't be on the other side of that gun, pulling the trigger against them.

I've lost Maverick. I can't lose…

"To save them," I whisper.

Tempest barks out a sound close to a laugh, but not quite. He scrubs a tired hand down his face. "Great. Haven't heard that one before."

I include both Tempest and Rossi when I say, "The Court is more than just a group of violent men. They're important to me, however fucked up that might seem to you."

"Oh, believe me. It makes sense," Tempest replies dryly. "I have a sister just like you."

Then Tempest shrugs. "But in defending them, you side with the Court. Kaspian and his brothers are slaves, exactly the way we were, and they do their Court's bidding."

At Rossi's sharp look, Tempest doesn't explain further, but works his jaw as if he doesn't enjoy being silenced.

I don't know what to say to that, so I just nod, my attention drifting back to Kaspian's unconscious form. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, but his face is still pale, his features drawn.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Tempest asks at his lowest decibel. "That's a dangerous fucker who would sooner bite your hand off than cling to it for help."

"You don't know what Kaspian's been through," I retort, but my voice cracks, desperation leaking through. "Or what I've been through. This jewel killed my brother. I have to know why."

Rossi closes in. I fight the urge to back away and put distance between us. "Your brother is dead, Elara. If it is indeed real, the Heart can't change that."

"Yes, but it can give me answers. For so long—too long—I accepted his death as cruel and terrible bad luck. I was willing to live with that open wound and just cover it with a bandage. But now? When the answers are so close, and four incredibly skilled men want to find the Heart as much as I do, how can I say no? Why would I ever stop? You don't know what finding the Heart could do?—"

"I know enough." A muscle knots in Rossi's cheek. "I know the price of involving yourself in Sarah Anderton's lost treasure. I know the destruction the search for it leaves in its wake. And I know that no one, not even you, should unearth what she was willing to die for to keep hidden. What her daughter was willing to die for."

Tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. "I have to try. I can't just let his death go."

For a brief instant, the hard lines of Rossi's face relax. "I understand your grief. But this isn't the way. Searching for the Heart will only bring you more pain, more loss. Let the treasure stay buried. Let your brother rest."

A sob catches in my throat, my chest aching with the weight of it. I want to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but I push it down, Kaspian's hand my anchor.

"I can't," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

Rossi sighs, rubbing a hand against the stubble on his jaw.

"Then I'm sorry, too." He looks at Tempest, and a silent communication passes between them. "We can't let you do this, Elara. Sarah's treasure is too dangerous in anyone's hands. Our job is to keep it from ever coming to light."

Fear prickles my skin. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Tempest draws closer, reaching into his jacket. If I knew him better, maybe I'd believe the line between his brows means he feels somewhat regretful when he says, "What we have to, so we can keep our loved ones safe."

I stumble against the sofa chair, Kaspian's dead weight nearly toppling us both over. "No, wait?—"

Tempest draws a gun from his coat, its muzzle gleaming in the dim light.

Rossi moves to block the door, his broad shoulders filling the frame.