“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, making Marcus, who is ahead of us, stop and look at me in concern.
“Jesus, you’re as pale as a ghost,” Marcus comments.
I open my mouth to tell him it’s just my imagination running away with itself when Marcus’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and frowns. Catching a glimpse at the screen before he hits answer, I smile as Marcus puts it on speakerphone.
“Hey, June, is everything okay?” I call out.
“There’s someone in my house,” she whispers, making my blood run cold as my eyes snap to Marcus.
“What?” Marcus barks as Felix pulls out his phone and dials the police.
“I can’t get a hold of Blake—” Her voice cuts off when we hear the sound of glass breaking.
I turn my eyes to Felix, who is still on the phone and whisper scream at him, “Go!”
He hesitates for a second, looking torn, but then June screams through the phone so I shove him and yell, “Go, fucking go!”
He nods, turns on his heel and bolts back down the stairs.
“Upstairs, now, head straight for the safe room,” Marcus orders, yanking me up the remaining steps and shoving me through the door.
“Wait what’s happening?” I don’t understand what the fuck’s going on. He pushes me in front of him, yelling at me to run, so I do, with Marcus hot on my tail. I yank open the closet, shove the clothes aside and step into the safe room I thought was unnecessary, my body freezing solid when I hear a pop, pop, pop noise and a crash. I turn and see Marcus drop to the floor behind me.
“Get the fuck in there now,” he yells, firing off a round of his own. I hear someone curse and something fall but my attention is on Marcus. I bend and grab him under his arms and pull with all my might, dragging him along the floor with what little aid he can give me.
“Callie, go.”
“I’m not fucking leaving you, so help me,” I scream when he fires again, losing my grip for a moment before finally managing to get him the last few steps over the threshold of the panic room.
I stand up to close the door and feel a burning pain in my shoulder that has me staggering back, but I don’t fall, especially when I see the outline of a figure approaching. No fucking way. I have too much to lose.
With one hand protectively over my belly, I grip the door with the other and slam it shut just as someone crashes into it from the outside. They’re too late though—the door automatically locked tight.
I turn to Marcus to ask him what the fuck is going on and find him unconscious and lying in a pool of blood.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Blake
What a fucking waste of my time. It quickly became apparent the job they called me about was a lie. Nothing more than a woman with a big ego throwing her weight around.
The senator is seeking an order of protection from a rival candidate. Convenient how she wants one now that she finds herself up for re-election. Instead of trying to win fair and square, she wants to sully her opponent’s name by claiming she received death threats and is scared for her life.
She flat out told me it was all a ratings ploy to discredit them while garnering sympathy. That she so readily admitted it, left me reeling at her audacity. And then there was the way she kept batting her eye lashes at me. She made it abundantly clear she was willing to offer up her…personal services to sweeten the pot.
This is why I fucking hate politics.
I head back to the security station and collect my personal items, noting that my phone is about to die with only five percent battery life left. Balls, I wanted to see how Callie got on at the doctor’s.
I frown when I see I have seventeen missed calls and eleven text messages.
I open up the last one and see it's from Felix.
Get to June’s now. Someone broke in and attacked her.
I dial his number as I hurry out of the building toward my car and climb inside as it continues to ring. When he finally fucking answers, I throw a barrage of questions his way. Where are you? Is she okay? What the fuck happened?”
“I’m just pulling up at June’s now. Ambulance and police are on the scene, but you need to—” His voice cuts out as my phone dies.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I bellow, smashing my phone against the steering wheel as I make an illegal U-turn and speed toward my grandmother's house.
I make the forty-minute journey in twenty, jumping out of the car without even turning the engine off.
I race to the door only to find myself being held back by two police officers.
“Get the fuck off me. That’s my grandmother in there.”
“Sir, calm down. She has been taken to the hospital. I can't let you go in and compromise a crime scene.” The fight goes out of me, knowing he’s right.
“Blake?”
I look up at my name being called and see Grant walking toward me.
“Tell me,” I order, my voice rough and full of anger.
He looks at me for a moment, likely trying to gauge if I can handle it before nodding. “She was beaten with what we suspect is a baseball bat. The assailant was gone before we arrived, likely taking it with him but I have people canvassing the area,” he tells me quietly, making me frown.
I must have misheard him. “She was what?”
“From what we’ve been able to tell, she was attacked in the bedroom before they dragged her down the stairs to the living room. She’s black and blue, both eyes swollen shut and it looks like her hip has been re-broken along with her right arm.”
I have to swallow down the bile that rushes up my throat.
“She’s alive, Blake, focus on that for now. She was conscious when they took her in. Your man Felix went with her. She was coherent enough to kick up a fuss when the paramedics tried to refuse him riding along with her.”
I almost crack a smile at that, but I need to see her with my own two eyes first to truly believe she’s okay. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine died, and I want to call Felix.”
“Sure.” He reaches inside his pocket and hands it over before walking away to give me some privacy.
“Hello?” Felix answers on the first ring.
“It's me. How is she?”
“They’ve just taken her down for an X-ray but, Blake, I’ve got her. I won't leave her. Go home and check on Marcus and Callie,” he tells me, his voice sharp and filled with worry.
“What? Why? What the hell is going on?”
“They’re at your place, but neither is answering their phone.”
“Okay, I’ll head over and check on them, and we’ll meet you at the hospital. Marcus is probably getting his ass kicked at Mario Kart or something.”
“No, Blake. Callie and Marcus know what happened to June. We were all together when the call came through. Callie was hysterical. They would have their phones on hand.”
I hang up without answering, ice running through my veins. I dial Marcus’s number but it just rings and rings, so I hang up and try to remember Callie’s number. I get a dead tone to start with, so I try again and finally she answers.
“Hello?” Her voice sounds worried and scared.
“Baby, it's me. Jesus, you just scared ten years off my life, keep your goddamn phone handy. June’s okay, she’s at the hospital. I’m heading over there now. You stay with Marcus, you hear me?”
“Blake,” she chokes out, her voice breaking as she cuts into my words. “Marcus is bleeding, and I can’t get it to stop,” she sobs.
I freeze before running for my car with the phone still glued to my ear. I hear Grant yell my name behind me, but I ignore him. “Talk to me, what's happening?” I urge her, trying to keep my voice calm.
“I managed to get him in the panic room with me, but he needs to go to the hospital, Blake, right now.”
“Okay, baby, deep breaths for me,” I tell her, taking one of my own, relieved to hear they made it to the panic room.
“What happened? Did you call 911?” I ask her.
“He… he’s been shot.”
Fuck! “Hold on, baby, I’m on my way to you now, I promise.”
“I called 911 but they’re not here yet, why aren’t they here, Blake?” she asks, her voice shaking as shock sets in.
“I need you to keep calm, Callie, they’re likely already there, securing the perimeter or something,” I soothe, trying my best to keep her talking.
“Well, if they are here, can you tell them to hurry up? Christian is here and he’s going to try to burn us out,” she sobs, almost making me drop the phone in horror.
“Callie?”
“Oh god,” she wheezes, sounding like she’s struggling to catch her breath.
“Callie!” I roar as my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
“I can’t breathe,” she gasps, but she doesn’t speak again even as I call her name over and over, pleading for her to answer me.
Pressing my foot down hard on the gas, I tear out of the driveway and make my way home as fast as I can, terrified about what I’ll find when I get there.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Callie
After my feet unfreeze, I rush over and drop to my knees beside Marcus, trying to figure out where the source of all the blood is coming from. It doesn’t take me long to find the blood is from a bullet wound through the left side of his stomach. Looking around for something, anything to stem the flow, I come up empty.
I slip my arms through my sweatshirt, my shoulder screaming at me in the process. I pull my hair free and press the balled up material against his wound to try to slow down the bleeding.
A sob escapes me as the futility of the situation hits me like a wrecking ball. Scanning the room for something that might make him more comfortable, I rule out the bed, already knowing I won't be able to lift Marcus on to it, but I can use the bedding to keep him warm.
I crawl over and grab the pillow and the blanket and then spot the first aid kit on top of the fridge. I reach up and snag it before hurrying back over to Marcus. Swiping my hands over my tear-stained cheeks, I lift his head a little and slide the pillow underneath him.
Ripping open the first aid kit, I tear open some gauze and, with shaky hands, lift the hem of his t-shirt, moving my blood-soaked sweatshirt out of the way. I see the neat little hole in his skin, and press the gauze to it, ignoring the fresh round of tears that run down my face at his cry of pain. I rip off some tape and stick the gauze down but his skin is slick with so much blood, it's making it tricky.
I wipe as much blood away as I can, worried I’m making this worse but I don't know what else to do.
Once I have his wound covered, I ball up my sweatshirt and press it on top of the gauze and then wrap the blanket over him, tucking it tightly around his body to hold the sweatshirt in place.
When I look up, I find him awake and looking at me with pain-filled eyes.
“You stubborn little shit,” he grits out.
“You wouldn’t have left me.” I point out something we both know to be true.
“I don’t matter. You—”
I shut him up with a yell of indignation. “You matter to me. You matter to Blake and Arlo. To Felix, Noah, Kellen, and Aiden. You are family, you asshat, so deal with it.”
I’ve given up trying to hold back the tears from flowing down my face. Even when he spots them and curses, they refuse to stop. Lifting his arm, he tags me behind the neck and pulls me down to his chest.
“I’m sorry. Stop fucking crying,” he mumbles into my hair, making me sniffle.
“Just keep pressure on your wound, okay? I need to call the police.” I lift my head, offering him a watery smile as I stare at his alarmingly pale face.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I call the police, telling where we are and that I need an ambulance. The woman on the other end tells me to stay on the line, but I stop listening to her when I turn and spot the viewing screen I had forgotten about behind the door.
As if in a trance, I drop my phone beside Marcus, ignoring the woman's voice as she calls my name, and climb to my feet. I make my way over to the monitor, sucking in a ragged breath when I see a pissed off looking Christian with my mom held tightly in front of him.
I knew when bullets started flying it was because of him. I just never expected him to be here, figuring he would send someone else to do his dirty work.
It also never dawned on me that he would bring my mother with him.
Standing there with his arm wrapped tightly around her neck to keep her up, her stump offering her no balance and no way to fight against his hold, I see the realization dawn in my mom’s eyes that she made a deal with the devil, and the devil always wins.
I must whimper because Marcus starts calling, reaching for the phone I dropped and yelling to the woman on the other end to hurry the fuck up.
Everything feels a little out of focus like I’m hovering above the situation looking down on everything as it plays out.
“What is it, Callie, what do you see?” Marcus barks but I don’t answer, moving closer to the monitors. “Callie, don’t,” Marcus yells, but I don’t listen.
I switch the little intercom button at the top of the control panel to on.
“The police are on their way,” I tell Christian, hoping he will take off running, but I should have known better.
At the sound of my voice, he jumps, before a sinister grin takes over his face. “Callie, my runaway bride. You have displeased me,” he calls out, talking to me like an errant child who has broken curfew or something.
“Open the door, and we will leave. Nobody else will get hurt because of you,” he promises, even as my mother's face starts to turn an alarming shade of purple. She claws at his arm, which is tightening around her windpipe.
His words momentarily snap me out of my shock, making clarity wash over me. He’ll kill her regardless of what I do.
Movements out of the corner of my eye have me turning to see Marcus attempting to crawl toward me.
“Don’t you fucking dare open that door. He’ll kill us all,” Marcus yells at me, trying to climb to his feet.
“If you move one more inch, Popeye, I’ll swing that door right open and welcome him in. Stay the fuck down and put pressure on your goddamn wound!” I screech.
He glares at me but is too weak to put up a fight.
I glare right back. “If you die on me, I will kill you myself,” I snap, turning back to the monitor.
“I’m not coming out, Christian, the cops will be here any minute,” I inform him and watch with confusion as his smile gets bigger.
“Am I supposed to be scared?” He laughs maniacally, showing just how much of a crazy motherfucker he is.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sings off-key before his smile disappears and his eyes flash with intent. “You have to the count of five. Come out or she dies.” He grins again, pulling a knife from behind him and holding it to her throat.
“Callie, please,” she begs, her voice sounding like she has gargled with glass.
“Callie, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Marcus whispers harshly, his voice weak and sounding so unlike the man I know.
“I can’t, I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry,” I tell her, choking on my tears.
What she did to me was unforgivable, but she doesn’t deserve to go out like this.
Christian laughs like this whole thing is hilarious, roaring with laughter as my mom begs and pleads until he slices across her throat in one smooth move, cutting off her words altogether.
Everything stops for a moment. Time freezes completely as the tableau of horror etches itself into my mind,
Images of the crimson spray of blood, her body being tossed to the ground and discarded now that her purpose has been served, and the maniacal glint in his eye indicating he needs more to satisfy himself, burn my eyes, scorching them with snapshots of terror I’ll never be able to forget.
So much blood.
Reality comes crashing back along with my ear-piercing scream that makes
my ears feel like they’re bleeding.
“Know that could have been prevented. Her blood is on your hands, Callie. Shame on you.” Christian tuts before tossing the knife onto my mother's body and walking somewhere off-screen.
I drop to my knees and scramble to Marcus when he calls my name softly.
“I’m here. I…I didn’t open the door, Marcus. I’m here. She’s dead, though, but I had to protect you… I had to protect us. I didn’t open the door, Marcus,” I stammer as I shake uncontrollably.
“You did real good, Callie. This is not your fault. Say it,” he orders.
“It's not my fault,” I repeat. I know logically it's not, but logic has nothing to do with madmen and knives and blood. Especially when the blood splattered everywhere belongs to my mother.
“Oh god.” I scramble to the corner of the room and throw up, trying to purge the horror and guilt. I puke and puke until my ribs hurt and my throat feels raw.
When my stomach is finally empty, I turn on wobbly legs to find Marcus out cold again.
Sobbing, I make my way back to him, stopping to check the monitor and see that Christian is back once more. I tilt my head, trying to figure out what he’s doing because his back is to me. When he turns, I see an object in his hand that makes my panic come back full force.
He’s going to burn us all.
The words whisper through my mind as I watch him douse the room from the red gas can in his hand.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I drop down to Marcus and shake him. He groans but doesn’t wake up.
“Please, please, please wake up, Marcus, I don’t know what to do,” I sob, collapsing on his chest.
I remember belatedly Marcus isn’t putting pressure on his wound anymore, so I reach over to do it, jumping when my phone rings, which is still clamped in Marcus’s hand.
I fumble, prying it free, praying it's the police to tell me they’re here and it's safe. “Hello?” I ask, my voice sounding shaky even to me.
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