Chapter 17

Evelyn

The warehouse from the video feed location wasn't far from the hotel, both located in the city's harbor area.

I grip my pistol tight and aim at the man charging around the corner in the direction of Kyle and me. He's already covered in blood, most likely that of his comrades, but a small voice in the back of my head tells me that the dried blood and the foamy yellowish liquid coating his pants are not theirs. They are Noah's.

Pressure builds in my chest as my heart beats violently, my pulse thumps in my ears as rage brews inside me. The room around me blurs as I concentrate on the man. Anyone who dares to lay a hand on what is mine and damage it will face a death far worse than their darkest nightmares.

With only a few feet left between us, I pull the trigger and the thunderous explosion echoes through the warehouse. The kick back forces my shoulders back and sends a jolt through my muscles. The bullet strikes the man's neck, a clean shot ripping through his carotid artery. Blood sprays everywhere, and in an instant, his body drops to the ground. His hands fly to the gushing wound as he struggles to cover it, eyes wide with fear as he fights for his life as blood begins to pool beneath his body, surrounded by his dead comrades.

"Damn, Evelyn, you're evil," Kyle coos as nothing but the gurgling, desperate plea of the man on the floor fills the hallway.

"What?" I snap, irritation bubbling up inside me as I turn to look at Kyle, my eyes narrowing as I aim my pistol at him.

"A clean shot through the head would have been nicer." He chuckles.

"I'm not here to be nice. I'm here to take back what's mine." I slam my hands into his shoulders and push him forward. "Let's move."

As we reach the next corner, slow, heavy footsteps echo through the corridor and Kyle backs up against the wall, one arm flying across my body, pinning me back and preventing me from pushing forward. Peering around a corner, he raises his pistol, leans forward and fires five more times, the explosion followed by another painful groan and the thud of a body falling to the ground.

The warehouse falls into an eerie silence, no more gunshots, no more screams, no more hurried footsteps trying to escape. Kyle drops the arm that's covering me and takes a cautious step around the corner, firearm still raised. "I think this is all of them for now," he says. I nod and follow him into the corridor where three dead men are lying in pools of their own blood.

"Why did you hold me back? I want to kill them." I follow Kyle down the hallway, stepping over the bodies, ignoring the pools of blood underneath our feet.

He remains in front of me. "I know. I just witnessed your thirst for murder. You killed Lancaster in cold blood and have no problem shooting anyone who gets in your way. But what if you had turned the corner and something had happened to you? Then, if we find Noah alive and he learns that you were hurt when I could have prevented it, I'd be a dead man."

"Not if. When we find him alive." I correct him and take a deep breath, letting the air out of my lungs with a frustrated sigh. "But you're right..."

After another turn, the rancid smell of vomit hits my nostrils, paired with the metallic odor of blood and the stench of urine. "Kyle," I call to him and stop dead in my tracks in front of a metal door.

"What?" Kyle asks, turning from where he is peering around the next corner. My eyes meet his and I turn my head to the door next to me .

"Here," I say, pointing at the door. My fingers tremble as I curl them around the handle, but I hesitate. Terrified of what we might find in the room. My heartbeat quickens, and tears prickle in the corner of my eyes. Tattooed long fingers wrap around mine, forcing my hand onto the handle. My head jerks to look up at Kyle who looks at me with a determined expression on his face.

"Together."

I nod and we push the handle down. As the door swings open, the stench that lingers in the hallway intensifies. The taste of bile crawls from my stomach to my throat. Swallowing the urge to throw up, I raise my head to look inside the room. The moment my eyes land on the figure tied to a chair in the middle of the room, my heart shatters into a million pieces. My blood runs cold, and tears spill over.

He is still dressed in the remains of his suit from the day they were ambushed, his entire body coated in filth, fresh and old dried blood, vomit, and other questionable fluids. His head is tipped forward, blood dripping from the tip of his nose.

"Noah!" A scream tears from my throat, raw and guttural. I rip my hand from Kyle's grasp and sprint across the room, falling to my knees in front of him in the pile of fluids. Blinking away my tears, I catch a glimpse of his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Carefully, I cup his cheeks in my hands and tip his head up. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a deafening drum in my ears. I swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of his state. Pushing his greasy hair away from his forehead, I have a perfect view of the devastating image of his face. One of his eyes and ears are missing and his nose is broken, the purple bruise stretching all across his face.

"Noah, baby, I'm here, it's okay," I say, trying to sound calm and reassuring, but my voice is shaking with fear when he doesn't respond to my attempt to get his attention. Meanwhile, Kyle remains at the door, looking out with his gun raised.

Removing one hand from his face, I fish for my phone in my purse, pull it out and turn on the flashlight. I coax his remaining eye open and shine the light into it to test his reactions, but the pupil doesn't dilate and when I wave it from left to right, he fails to follow. However, the moment I let go of his lid, it doesn't fall shut. Instead with a gurgling breath he raises his head as if he is trying to look at me.

"Dove?" My pet name rolls off his tongue in a voice I don't recognize, hoarse and weak.

"Yes, it's me, I'm here, we're going home," I say through silent sobs, cupping his cheeks in my hands and resting my forehead against his.

His lips twitch in a slim smile, followed by a mocking chuckle, his head bumping against mine. "It's not fair…"

"What's not fair baby?"

"You're not here." He coughs and drops of his blood and bile splash into my face, but I ignore it.

"But I am, I'm real." I offer him a smile.

"No, you're not…" Another chuckle vibrates from his chest. He must think I'm nothing more than a hallucination. A shaky breath escapes my lips as tears run down my cheeks, but before I can utter a word, he speaks again. "I'm sorry, Dove," he continues. "I should have listened to you. I broke my promise again , and now I'm dying."

"No—"

"I wanted to marry you," he cuts me off with a smile on his face. "Give you the life you deserve but I was too stubborn." His breathing begins to come in uneven, ragged gasps as he spirals into a state of panic, the veins in his throat pulsating, his Adam's apple bobbing as his jaw trembles.

"Marry me?" I ask, my voice so soft that only the two of us can hear it. He nods, his forehead bumping into mine.

"I want this normal life, with you, even if it is only for one last minute." He chokes on his words as his nodding becomes more violent, his head slamming into mine again and again. "I love you." He repeats the three words like a mantra.

Pulling away from him, I grab the knife from the garter on my thigh and cut him loose, his body collapsing forward, falling onto me as he can't hold himself up. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, cradling him in my arms with one hand on the back of his head, stopping him from continuing to slam his head into me. "Baby, Noah, steady breaths. Follow my lead." I take a deep, shaky breath and he does the same, holding the air in our lungs until I guide him through the exhale. We repeat the same slow rhythm, our chests rising against each other, our breathing falling in sync. I brush my fingers through his greasy, tangled hair, trying to loosen some of the knots. "You're doing good, baby," I say through sobs. "We're going home."

"I'm cold…" he whispers against my shoulder, his voice fading as his body goes completely limp in my arms.

"Kyle," I scream, my voice, hoarse and broken, tearing through air as my head whips in his direction.