Chase
The screams, always the screams.
Always their eyes.
The last few seconds of their lives as I take their souls from this earth, begging me to change my mind when they know in the same breath, I won’t.
That was the thing about human life.
You don’t truly treasure it until you’re about to lose it.
And you don’t ever really believe you’ll lose it until it’s too late.
I jerked awake as the sound of a gunshot went off.
And more blood stained my hands.
It wasn’t there.
Her blood.
But I felt it all the same.
Just like I felt the empty spot to the right side of my bed where I used to turn and check, at least a dozen times during the night, to make sure she was safe, to make sure she was home.
The first few months, I’d truly believed I’d found something incredible out of such sadness and horror.
And then it all fell down.
The veil.
The mask.
She’d only given me parts.
When I’d wanted it all.
I’d begged for it.
Demanded it whenever I took her body, only to have her close her eyes at the last minute, as if refusing me the most important part of her.
She’d never surrendered the way I’d wanted her to.
And yet I’d tried.
Damn it, I had fucking tried!
I threw a pillow against the wall and put on a pair of sweats. I was just reaching for the bottle of Jack I kept at my bedside when I heard the crying.
The gut-wrenching sobs that, for once, didn’t come from my own throat, or my own nightmares.
I opened my door and listened.
I quietly checked every guest room I could think of.
Where the hell was she?
Finally, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen as the sobs grew louder.
With a curse, I slowly opened the pantry door and flicked on the light.
And there she was.
My new employee.
Huddled in the corner like I’d found her earlier.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out so gruff and demanding, but I didn’t exactly have patience in spades anymore.
“Y-you—” She choked out the word. “—said.”
“I said?” I shook my head. “I said what?”
“Y-you.”
She stuttered so hard I felt a pang in my gut; it was fleeting, but it was there.
“Y-you.”
“Shhh.” I moved to my knees, held out my hand, and very slowly pressed it onto her right shoulder. “I got the you part and the said part. What’s next?”
Her big brown eyes locked with mine. “Safe.” She finally got the word out. “Safest.” Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her body shook beneath my palm. “In house, I need…” Her lips trembled. “Safe, I need safe. I need safe.” And then the words wouldn’t stop coming as they flew out of her mouth over and over and over again like a broken record.
I’d looked terror in the face more times than I could count.
I’d never seen it reflected so raw in another human.
The knife in my chest twisted as she eyed my hand as if I was going to break her neck, and then she flinched away from me and tried to push herself against the wall, tried to blend in so I couldn’t see her. The shaking got worse.
She was in shock.
I wasn’t stupid.
I also didn’t want to help her.
I had no desire to help her.
No warmth in my heart.
Nothing.
I’d done that before — rescued the girl — and she’d broken my heart. Sometimes the world didn’t need a prince. Sometimes it needed a mercenary.
I was the latter.
I shut the door anyway.
Still shaking, she didn’t look at me, just kept repeating “safe” over and over again.
I didn’t know how to do this anymore.
How to put anyone at ease. I didn’t know how to lie, how to tell her she was safe, or that everything would be okay, because I didn’t believe it enough to sound convincing. My life was proof of that.
I hung my head and finally got out the only thing I knew to say. “What’s your first name?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“I’m Chase…” I inwardly rolled my eyes. “…Abandonato.”
Yeah, dip shit, she knew that, too.
What? Was I going to confess I liked long walks on the beach and Netflix?
Next, I was probably going to say, “Oh, and my personal vendetta is to wipe out an entire family dynasty and get myself killed. Hey, could you pass the box of pasta?”
“I’m not…” I bit down on my lower lip. “…I’m not good at this.”
A wave of shiny hair fell across her left cheek; she peeked out beneath it, and with trembling lips finally said, “Luciana.”
“Of course.” My smile felt bitter. Of course she’d have a pretty name like that.
“And still going with Smith?”
She started shaking again as if I’d just pulled a gun on her by way of saying her last name.
“Alright then, no more name talk.” I eyed the fruit snacks next to her knees. “Luciana, do you like fruit snacks?”
I pointed.
She frowned.
“I only carry the orange box. It’s the only flavor worth having. Could you grab me some?”
She eyed the fruit snacks, then me, then the fruit snacks.
Mold grew faster than this woman’s thought process. And she was supposed to help the Families? I had my doubts. Then again, she’d just witnessed a killing spree.
Leave it to Nikolai to send us someone who had no idea what the hell we were involved in.
With shaking hands, she reached for the box, gripping both sides before slowly passing it over to me. I grabbed two packs and handed her one.
She took it.
“It’s not poison,” I joked.
She didn’t laugh.
Right, like she’d believe the man who just shot up ten people. Yeah, I really sucked at this. Bad.
No wonder everyone kept warning me not to kill her. It was an actual possibility, wasn’t it?
At any given time.
I’d snap.
And she’d be on the receiving end of it.
What the hell were they thinking sending her here first?
“You’re in shock.” I tried again. “The sugar will help.”
She held the fruit snack to her mouth and completely missed. Frustration welled up. Could she not even feed herself?
On her second miss, I scooted closer, grabbed a few of my own fruit snacks and literally shoved them into her mouth and pressed a palm over her lips. “Chew.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I’m trying to help.” I used the gentlest tone I had, which probably still sounded like metal grating metal, but it was all the tenderness I had left in me.
All the tenderness she’d allowed me to keep.
Her lips moved against my hand, slowly at first, and the first spark of life in my soul lit.
I jerked my hand away and clenched it into a fist, but the burn remained.
The burn of a mouth I’d never touched.
The burn of a memory I’d long ago shoved into the furthest recess of my mind.
The burn of a woman.
The sweet burn of being possessed… and possessing.
I closed my eyes then looked the other direction.
A cold hand pressed against my forearm. “Thank you.”
I jerked away. “I’m not your friend.”
She nodded.
I stood and held out my hand.
I was surprised when she took it.
Even more surprised when I didn’t flinch away from her touch as I walked her out of the pantry and up the stairs in silence.
Her eyes took in all the rooms that lined the two different hallways.
I crossed my arms and waited. “Pick a room.”
She shook her head and started backing away, but no chance in hell was I letting the guys catch wind she slept in the pantry, even if I didn’t really care. I knew they’d just make my life harder with the commission — with my life’s goal.
With a grunt, I hung my head and started walking toward the room farthest from mine. It was the only one that was finished, with a nice queen bed and attached bathroom suite.
It wasn’t painted yet, but at least the bed had sheets, and she had towels in the bathroom.
She walked in.
I grabbed the knob and closed the door, only to have her jerk it open and run right into me, her hands pressed against my chest, her mouth inches from mine.
She gulped as more tears filled her eyes.
I wasn’t used to weak women.
Women who were afraid of everything.
The last person who’d given me a look of complete terror had been Trace, and I hadn’t been man enough to deserve it then — to fix it then. There sure as hell wasn’t a way I deserved to be the hero now.
I slowly peeled Luciana’s body away from me. “Sleep off the shock. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
She shook her head no.
“You’re safe,” I gritted my teeth. “You can even lock your door and—”
She tried rushing past me.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. “No pantry.”
“But you said—”
“Fuck what I said!” I roared, and she flinched. Great. Just great. I tried calming my racing heart, and the way her wide eyes penetrated to the darkest places my conscience still somehow existed. “Just… sleep. Please.”
She snorted. “It’s too big.”
“The room?”
She nodded. “I’ll just grab a pillow for the pantry in case people come by again… and guns—” She gulped. “—guns g-go off and—”
“Why me?” I muttered before grabbing her hand for the second time that night, and leading her back down the hall to my room.
I slammed the door louder than usual once we were inside, stripped out of my shirt, and climbed into bed, leaving her standing there like a statue.
I closed my eyes and murmured, “Either sleep with the monster who can slay all ten dragons, or go sleep alone in the pantry where I guarantee they’ll hear you shaking first.”
I smirked as I heard fumbling, a few stumbles, shoes flying, and then the weight of someone climbing into bed next to me.
I froze.
It was too familiar.
Too close to home.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Never again.
Never. Again.
She fell asleep an hour later, while I prayed to whatever God still cared for me to end my life so I wouldn’t have to live in this purgatory anymore.
And when sleep finally did come, and I woke up, I did the one thing I swore I’d never do again…I turned around and looked for dark hair splayed across the pillow next to me.
And found it.
And fucking hated my treacherous body for sighing in relief.
There would be no relief.
Not anymore.
Never again.