Fifth a Fury

“You trust me to do that? After what I caused?”

“I know your intentions were in the right place.” I sucked in a breath. “I...I already forgive you, because without you, Sully would’ve died days ago. You saved his life, more than once, and I will always be grateful, but I’m asking you to save him one last time.”

“Your forgiveness means a lot to me, Eleanor. I won’t lie that I’ll carry the guilt over Serigala for the rest of my life.” He cleared his throat. “But can I ask you a question? It will help with my decision.”

I clutched Sully’s hand. “Fine. What is it?”

“You know what he’s done and what he’s capable of. You’ve changed him, there is no doubt about that, and what Drake did...well, no one—no matter what they’ve done—should have to endure such things. But...do you think the world would be a better place without—”

“Stop.” I swallowed back my temper, speaking from my heart. “I give you my word, Dr Campbell, that the man you’ve served is no longer the same tyrant. He cares, Doctor...about all life now, not just his creatures.”

“In that case, leave it with me.” He sucked in a breath, preparing to fight for a man he’d almost destroyed. “I’ll call the team caring for him. I’ll be in touch.”

He hung up.

Shaking slightly, I placed the cell phone back on the small cabinet beside Sully’s pillow. I squeezed his fingers, treating him as if he could hear every word instead of being utterly unreachable. “We’re going home, Sully. You’ll feel the humidity again and be away from people, and everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

Bowing my head over his hand, I did something I’d never done.

I prayed to a higher power because if Sully had somehow tapped into such a magic with his prior perversions, then perhaps I could use it to bring him back.

And maybe, just maybe, he would keep me an honest woman and prove to Dr Campbell that he had changed. That he would rethink his business of using the girls’ lust for his gain. He might even dabble with what I’d asked before Serigala blew up.

He might let them go.

The door swung open just as I scrambled for a prayer.

I looked up, expecting to see another nurse checking Sully’s vitals and nodding encouragingly, even while her eyes swam with uncertainty. Instead, the mercenary who’d helped me administer CPR and brought Sully back to life stood on the threshold.

He didn’t enter.

His slicked-back hair shone from the harsh overhead lights, revealing deeper-set wrinkles of a man inching through his fifties. He bowed slightly in my direction, his attention skipping from Sully to me.

He sighed and scratched his goatee. “Still no improvement then?”

I sat taller, extracting my hand from Sully’s, doing my best to be resilient and strong. “Not yet but the doctors are hopeful.”

When they aren’t side-eyeing each other with concerns they refuse to verbalize.

“Shit.” He stepped into the room, throwing a look behind him. He looked sketchy and on edge. For a man who’d made a career out of killing for a pay packet, it made sense for him to look at everyone as his enemy, but there was something else too...

I stood, my knees locking me in place. “Is something wrong?”

He licked his lips, a wry smile tilting them. “Well, my employer is currently playing roulette with death so that’s enough but...” He lowered his voice, stepping closer to me.

I met him in the middle of the room, goosebumps covering me under my baggy hoodie. “What is it?”

“We have a...situation. Back at the manor house. Sinclair gave me strict instructions before he, eh, passed out, but I can’t keep doing what he requested. I’m unsure of how to deal with the situation going forward.”

“What sort of situation?”

He scoffed almost with disbelief. “Something I’ve never dealt with before, and one that has become rather pressing.” He glanced at Sully again. “Is he aware of any stimulus? If I asked him a question, could he respond and give direction?”

I shook my head. “You can try, but so far, he’s shown no reaction when I talk or touch him.”

He nodded with frustration. “In that case...” His eyes scanned me, growing darker with decision. “You. You’ll have to help me. You have to come back to the manor with me. There’s something you need to see.”

“Me?” I stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

The mercenary closed the distance between us, lowering his tone once again until only a murmur sounded. “You are his voice now. It’s your decision. Whatever you decide, I will take as his command, and I’ll have served out our agreement.” He took my hand, tugging me toward the door. “It can’t wait anymore.”

I struggled to get free. “I can’t leave him. What if he wakes up or...”

Dies.

What if he crashes when I’m not here?

“I give you my word that I’ll have you back within an hour.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

Pulling me harder, he gritted his teeth. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Sixteen

I WAS AWARE OF being...aware.

Past that, I had no idea.

I knew I was a sentient being.

I hadn’t quite died, yet I hadn’t figured out how to live.

I was in limbo.

Suspension.

In bondage.

I had no way to shout.

No way to wake.

No way to force my fate to go one way or the other.

All I had was a tether.

A glowing, fragile string binding me to someone I couldn’t see.

A string that hummed with a voice I fell instantly in love with.

A thread that filled me with warmth and want.

While that thread connected me to my destiny, I was content.

I could rest, heal, accept.

But when the string snuffed out.

When there was no touch, no hum, no light.

I floundered.

I was lonely.

I was afraid.

I missed her.

Chapter Seventeen

“OH GOD, I’M GOING to be sick.”

I clamped both hands over my mouth.

The stench in the room.

Sewer and decay. Sourness and sweat.

All laced with the rancidness of rot—emitting from a man who’d almost raped me, tortured his brother, and did his best to steal everything I ever cared for.

Drake.

Not that the mumbling, bumbling mess before me could be Drake.

Can it?

I gagged as I studied him.

In three days, his body had sunken to a frail skeleton, his flesh almost mummified on his bones. He lay on his side on the same couch he’d tied my ankle to. Putrid tracks of shit and urine stained the embroidered silk and dripped upon the floor. A huge puddle of spit glued his cheek to the material while his eyes alternated between being wide open and in horrendous agony before squeezing shut and scrunching up his entire face in excruciation.

This wasn’t a man to be afraid of but a creature who yanked utmost pity from my heart.

Sully’s temper had finally overflowed. The volcano I’d sensed inside him—the rivers of unforgivable lava—had let loose, and I stood looking at the aftermath. The hardened magma, the cracked destruction, the decimation of cities and minds.