Chapter Sixteen

Aurelio

After it was all over, I guess we had the silence of the safe house to thank for our lives.

There was no street traffic here, no neighbors opening and closing doors, no dogs barking. Hell, the internet and cable was so shitty that we didn't even bother trying to have TV or music on as background noise at night.

The only sounds we heard were the occasional hoot of an owl, the wind in the trees, and the low static of the baby monitor we probably didn't even need with the house being so small and Judah being only a few feet away.

So when a door slammed, I was knifing up in bed, taking Claire—who'd been asleep on my chest—with me.

"What?" Claire asked, sleepy, confused. "Is it Judah?" she asked, slow blinking in the dark room.

"No," I said, already moving away from her, getting to my feet, and yanking on a pair of pants, then tucking my phone in my pocket before making my way into the closet, reaching onto the shelf, and pulling down my gun.

Normally, I wouldn't feel comfortable keeping a gun around in the house that wasn't locked up.

But Judah was still a toddler.

And no amount of brainstorming and troublemaking would make it possible for him to get to the shelf in the closet.

"Don't," I hissed when Claire reached toward the light.

I could feel bad about my shortness with her later. When I was sure it was just the guard switching out or some shit like that. And not our worst fears realized.

"What is it?" she answered in a whisper, climbing silently out of bed, and yanking on her discarded panties and t-shirt.

"Probably nothing," I said, creeping toward the window to peek out.

It was too dark to see anything at all.

So with my pulse thrumming, some sick sensation starting to slosh around in my stomach, I made my way toward the door to the hallway.

Judah's room was toward the front of the house.

And while I knew the windows were locked, it suddenly felt incredibly reckless to have him closer to the driveway, to a threat that might be approaching.

It was supposed to be safe here.

No.

I needed to not get ahead of myself.

A door didn't mean an ambush.

"Stay here," I whispered to Claire who'd moved halfway across the room toward me.

I waited for her nod before opening the door, moving into the hallway, and reaching for Judah's door.

I moved inside, feeling a rush of relief at seeing him still fast asleep in his bed.

Inching across the room, I reached for the locks on each of his windows, making sure they were still engaged, then pulling the curtain back ever so slightly, peeking out front.

To keep the place as inconspicuous and hard to find as possible, we didn't keep the front light on at night.

I was suddenly cursing that fact as I glanced out and saw nothing but inky blackness.

I could just about make out the car parked on the street, but that was all dark as well.

"Is he okay?" Claire asked, peeking in the bedroom door.

I gave her a nod, but pressed my finger to my lips. Just in case.

Her eyes widened, but I reached into the hall for her, pulling her into the room, then motioned for her to stay as I went back to the door.

I was trying to convince myself that I was being overprotective, a little paranoid.

But there was no denying the pit in my stomach, the sick sensation moving up my throat, the way my spine was so tense it felt brittle.

Sometimes, you just had a feeling. And it was never a good idea to second-guess your instincts.

In the best case, I was just jumping at shadows. I could laugh it off and go back to bed with Claire.

In the worst, though, this was giving me a chance to catch an intruder unaware. To take them out before they could get anywhere near Claire and Judah.

I winced as one of the floorboards in the hall creaked under my step, cursing myself for not paying attention to shit like that, getting to know the quirks of the house.

I'd been too busy with Claire and Judah to remember that something as small as a squeaky floorboard or a cracked window could be the difference between life and death.

Stop.

I needed to stop.

All I could do now was focus.

And hopefully laugh at myself in a few minutes when it turned out to be nothing.

I made my way past the bathroom, reminding myself that the alarm was set, and there was no beep that said someone had broken a window or picked a lock.

If there even was a threat, it was still outside.

Somehow, though, my anxiety only managed to ratchet up as I ducked down below the open curtains in the dining room, creeping my way toward the kitchen.

Almost done.

Once the inside was gone over, I could call the guard to see if he could do a perimeter sweep.

Then this would all be fucking ov—

My heart surged up into my throat as I rounded the kitchen.

Because there was the sound of footsteps.

I had the home field advantage here. I could move more smoothly in the dark.

But with a gun, my shot would be inaccurate.

Taking a deep breath, I shifted behind the fridge, grabbing the door handle with one hand to pull back for a small bit of cover, then using my other arm to push on the switch, bathing the room in light.

I had to blink at the change in brightness before I leaned out from behind the fridge door, taking aim, and shooting.

Three men.

There were three men in the house.

Were there more?

I could take down three.

But if more would be coming in through the other doors, I'd left Claire defenseless in the room with Judah, who would be waking up from the gunshots any time now.

Leading fucking Warren right to them.

No.

I couldn't get lost in the maybes.

I had a problem right in front of me that I could solve.

With a bullet in each of their fucking heads.

I leaned back out, seeing one of the men slink into the pantry for cover, and another leaning in the doorway from the garage.

The third was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide behind the island.

None of them, I realized with a jolt, were Warren.

Where was he? Outside? Waiting for his guards to take me out, so he had a free path right to Claire and Judah.

Fucking coward.

Taking a deep breath, I aimed, exhaled, then pulled the trigger, watching as the man behind the island collapsed forward, blood tricking from his forehead onto the floor.

One down.

Two to go.

Then I could think about anyone else.

"Motherfucker!" the one in the garage raged, letting out a hail of bullets.

But he had to step out of the doorway to do that, sacrificing his safety for revenge.

I waited until I saw him step forward, then leaned out, and shot.

Once in the stomach, making him fold forward, then another to his chest, watching as he wobbled and fell.

Not dead immediately.

I could hear the gurgle of him choking on his blood for a moment before there was silence.

Two down.

Just the guy in the pantry to go.

Then I needed to get down the hall, get more bullets. In case this was just the first wave.

Maybe I could arm Claire.

No, she had no experience. But it didn't take much to point and shoot. Especially at close range. She could do it. To save her son.

I inched along the cabinets, keeping as out of the other guy's view as possible until the very last moment.

When I yanked open the door, and started shooting.

The adrenaline was getting replaced with relief as I was about to turn away from the third body.

When I heard it.

A gunshot.

Just a millisecond before I felt it.

Lodge into my back, the pain searing, nearly blinding.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Gritting my teeth, I turned.

And there he was.

Warren fucking Graves.

He looked worse for the wear. His skin was pale, the purple smudges under his eyes dangerously close to looking like black eyes.

Clearly, the man had been up obsessing while I'd been taking his ex joyfully to bed and helping raise his son.

His bitterness and rage made him ugly.

Not that it mattered what he looked like when he had a gun raised, finger on the trigger, ready to pull and put an end to me.

And an end to me meant an end to Claire. But not before he brutalized her first.

Sure, Judah would live. But what kind of life would that be? Without the only people who loved him just because, not for what he could do for them.

"Been waiting to be able to do this," he said.

Then, before I could raise my gun to shoot, out of fucking nowhere, Claire came running out, full force, throwing her entire body into Warren.

"No!" she shrieked.

I watched in slow motion as Warren started to fall.

But not before his finger pulled the trigger one more time.

Missing his mark.

But landing just the same.

Lodging in me.

Shoulder?

Neck?

I couldn't even be sure, the pain was so acute, so overpowering, taking over the area from my chest up.

"No!" Claire screamed again as the impact, or the shock, my brain wasn't working quite right at that moment, had me falling to my knees, then dropping onto my ass on the floor.

"No no no no no!" she cried as she went to war with her ex.

I was in and out of consciousness then, and the moments awake felt like a fever dream, my thoughts thick and slow, not making much sense.

Until, suddenly, something did.

The men had been inside.

But the house had been silent.

There was no beeping.

The alarm hadn't sounded.

So, either someone had figured out the code—a feat the expert who'd installed the system assured us was damn near impossible.

Or…

Or someone had let them in.

If Claire had made her way all the way into the kitchen without encountering someone else, then there likely weren't any other guards around.

Except, of course, ours.

Mine.

A growl escaped me.

And, suddenly, I was moving.

Half crawling, half dragging myself across the kitchen, then down the hall.

Sweat beaded my brow, poured down my back, yet I felt almost intolerably cold as I threw myself in front of Judah's closed door, hearing the comforting—given the situation—sound of his cries within, knowing there was no way in.

Unless someone went through me.

With what little strength I seemed to have left in me, I raised my arm and forced my finger back to the trigger on the gun in my hand.

And waited.

I didn't have to wait long.

Thank God.

Because I was pretty sure I didn't have long left, not with the way my pulse felt hard, yet slow. With the way my mind was going all foggy.

But I heard the steady footsteps.

And there he was.

Our guard.

Myman.

I wondered, a bit fleetingly, how much his betrayal had cost.

Not that it mattered.

Because he hadn't been expecting me.

The second he saw me there, the gun raised, his face fell.

"You don't understand," he rushed to insist, trying to raise his hands.

Oh, I understood, alright.

He betrayed the Family, me, and worst of all, Claire and Judah.

For what?

Money?

The worst fucking kind of man.

Maybe I should have shown him some mercy.

But, at the end of the day, I doubted he gave a fuck that Warren would show none to Claire or Judah.

So when I aimed, I did so to kill.

Then I squeezed the trigger.

Once.

Twice.

The gun fell from my hand as my guard crashed to the floor.

With what little energy I had left, I reached into my pocket, stabbing my finger blindly at the phone screen, unable to focus.

There was a ring.

And a voice.

Then the world started to go dark.

So this was how it ended.

Protecting my woman and kid.

There weren't many better ways to go, I guess…