He’s dead.
No matter how much I told myself, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. If I did it meant my life was over. Forever. I would remain alone.
Hope—that bastardly emotion—wouldn’t let me go.
He doesn’t feel dead.
He’s not gone. He can’t be gone.
The cord linking our souls together wasn’t completely sundered. Or was I believing my own lies? Numbing myself to the truth?
Q please. Don’t leave.
The first wave broke my iron control, sending a torrent of tears up my spine.
I cupped Q’s cheek. I froze.
He was clammy. Not cold.
Hope took over my waves of tears, building a wall of wishes.
“Franco…” I looked up, begging him to confirm.
Franco hovered over me, his body seizing with injury. He lowered his good hand beneath Q’s nostrils. Ducking beneath his arm, I pressed my ear against Q’s damp chest, willing a heartbeat to thud.
My ear grew warm as I pressed harder, throbbing with the need to hear the fundamental part of him thrum.
Moments ticked past while we listened and waited.
Then my hope was confirmed.
Franco and I jerked back together. Our eyes met, wide with awe. “He’s breathing,” Franco said. I blurted, “His heartbeat is faint but it’s there.”
The churning waves vanished, leaving me with frantic calm. “Someone get more blankets. Water. Call an ambulance.” I pressed my ear to Q’s chest again, needing to hear.
Thud…thud…
You’re going to be okay.
Q’s unconscious form became the hub of commotion. Men dashed around, delivering blankets, first aid kits, and water.
I didn’t move from Q’s side. With gentle fingertips, I traced his cheekbones, whispering over his lips. “You’re safe. Wake up. Please wake up.”
Tears breached my eyelashes, dripping over my cheeks. But these were hopeful tears rather than heavy with grief. My body remembered how to feel, thawing the ice in my blood, bringing me up from the darkness and back into the sunshine. “Q—please.”
Kneeling higher, I pressed my lips to his. In my mind I tasted his agony—the torture he’d endured. I licked away his screams, letting him know we’d come for him.
We weren’t too late.
I’m here.
My body began to quake, exceeding any Richter scale as I filled with shaking gratefulness.
I kissed him again. Hard and fierce.
He didn’t move but something shifted in my heart. I knew he’d heard me—sensed me. An awareness gathered in the space as Q clawed his way from unconsciousness, fighting to return.
In increments, he came alive.
His chest raised higher, his lips tightening as pain registered.
Then his eyes went from closed to narrowed to open. Pale jade blazed while the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and raw.
What the hell did they do to him?
I shook my head. I didn’t want to know. I never wanted to picture him in such pain. I couldn’t handle it. I’d never forgive myself for not extracting a worse toll on Lynx if I knew.
Q’s gaze focused on mine, pulling me inside him, sewing us together stronger, deeper than ever before. “Te—Tess?”
I burst into tears. Throwing my arms around his neck, I peppered his face with kisses. I wasn’t gentle. I couldn’t be gentle.
He half-laughed, half-groaned. “Tout va bien.” It’s okay. His voice was cracked and rough, breathless with pain.
“You’re alive. Q—” I couldn’t stop kissing him, layering him with all the love I had. “We thought you were dead. How is this possible?” I stroked his cheek, imprinting his glorious face onto my heart.
Q stiffened, wincing as a flush of agony paled his features. “He d—did kill me, a f—few times. Or at least, I think so—I remember leaving—falling...” His eyes clouded. “I followed you, esclave. I thought you’d come—”
“We did come.”
He smiled. “Kiss me again. I need to know this is real.” His voice was barely audible, cracking and wheezing but I understood every word.
My lips caressed his, drinking him, loving him. It was a chaste kiss. No tongue, only breath and heat and a promise of never leaving.
Pulling away, I asked, “If he killed you—how are you alive?”
Q looked away, hiding the torrent of memories. “He had ta—Taser. Amazing what a volt of el—electricity to the heart can do—to prolong things.”
His grogginess evaporated as his hand suddenly shot between his legs. Relief slackened his face. “Thank God.”
I pulled back. “What? What is it?”
Q shook his head, alertness battling back his weakness. “Nothing. I’m still in one piece. That’s all.” He sighed heavily, looking worn-out and barely conscious. His eyes narrowed. “Why is there blood on your cheek?”
Because it was my blood to take.
Franco appeared in the doorway, using the dreaded walking stick he’d scorned before. “Ambulance is on its way.” Smiling at Q, he added, “You should’ve seen her, Mercer. Fucking scary as hell. But she killed him for you.” Franco glared in my direction. His eyes blatantly vowing that what happened downstairs would remain between us.
I nodded, accepting his promise. I’d done what I needed to do. Q didn’t need to know the details.
Q’s face darkened, overshadowed with the strain of talking. “What?” He growl-croaked, “You killed Lynx? That’s his blood on your face?”
I made him believe my lies and stole his life.
I nodded, fierce pride resonating in my heart. “He stole you from me. He had to die. And I had to be the one to do it.” Taking his hand, I squeezed. “I know you’ll understand, and I know you’ll accept when I say it’s done and I don’t want to talk about it.”
Q flinched, untangling his arm from the blanket. With a shaky hold, he cupped the back of my neck. I bowed over him, never looking away from his eyes. “What did you do, Tess? Please tell me you didn’t undo my hard work.” He stopped, sucking in a breath. His eyes were tight with agony. “Tell me you didn’t ruin yourself by killing him for me. You didn’t have to do that. I never wanted—”
“It won’t happen.” I knew his fears. He worried I’d relapse for hurting another like killing Blonde Hummingbird. But I wouldn’t because I’d done the right thing. I was happy. I accepted my brutality and would gladly live with the knowledge I wasn’t pure anymore. I was never pure. And if I went to hell for saving the man I loved—then that was the final debt I would pay.