Damage (Havoc #2)

by Stella Rhys

  I stared back, speechless.

  Hissing, Stefan had me flipped and pinned to the bed before I had the chance to scream. His hand darted under the pillow above me and pulled out a black gun that he shoved under my chin, the hard metal rattling every bone inside my body so hard I could almost hear them clattering. “You’re here with my brother,” Stefan murmured.

  Worse. Panicked and shaking, I said nothing. Three…two…

  My eyes squeezed shut when the door blew open as if rigged with explosives. Stefan’s weight flew off me and I heard the sheer disbelief in his string of profanity. Then I felt myself pinned down by my throat. I opened my eyes to see a barrel between them. “I’ll do it,” Stefan said calmly. I had no view besides his gun and the white ceiling but I knew that Abram and Nate had their weapons pointed at him from the door. Every second that passed felt like an eternity till I heard the gravel of Abram’s low voice.

  “It’s two against one, Toro, and I’ll kill you before you can pull the trigger.”

  I could see the underside of Stefan’s chin expand, the apples of his cheeks protruding as he broke into a grin. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so I might as well take her with me. It’ll be nice to have a plaything in Hell.” He cocked his gun.

  Bang!

  I had to be dead. It felt as if I’d been struck by lightning, my body buzzing and shaking. I was gone. I didn’t even bother to think otherwise until I heard Abram say my name with urgency as his strong arms lifted me off the bed. I opened my eyes to find myself trembling, convulsing but unharmed. My nails dug into Abram’s back as I looked around, every sense but vision rendered useless, as if they’d never existed. It took several moments for me to register that either Abram or Nate had shot Stefan in the arm. Pinned to the bed by Nate, Stefan was thrashing in pain and wild-eyed panic as he cried out. I stared at him, numb, in a daze.

  It dawned on me too late that he was calling out someone’s name.

  “Abram!” I screamed when I saw the gunman in the door.

  Bang! Nate slumped over Stefan, a bullet in his back. From there, my screams went on like a broken record. They singed my throat raw and dry as I watched Stefan free himself, fighting off Nate’s dead weight with one arm, his fingers outstretched and inches from grasping his gun. Bang! I heard the shot and then I felt Abram’s grip tighten around me, which told me that he had taken out the strange gunman. But everything stopped when I saw Stefan hold up Nate’s gun and point it at me.

  The world moved in slow motion, without sound besides distorted gunfire. I pounded Abram’s chest so he would let me go, so I could run and take him with me. We could escape together and find help for Nate. People had heard, they had to be coming. Stefan would be taken care of. I could already see my feet hitting the carpeted hallway outside, my hands squeezed tight around Abram’s as we ran together. I went as far as to envision sitting next to him at the precinct, one hand still entwined with his, the other holding a cup of hot tea as we told the cops that Stefan had put a gun to my head. It was so vivid that I blacked out for a second.

  But then I snapped back.

  And just as Stefan’s finger pulled the trigger, Abram spun around, shielding me between his back and the wall before I heard three deafening shots ring out. Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I fell to the floor, Abram collapsing on top of me. I couldn’t breathe let alone scream but I already knew to cry. I could hardly muster the strength to pull myself out from under his weight because I didn’t want to confirm it. I didn’t want to validate the dread that was coiling in my stomach, the pain that had already sliced my heart in two. But when I did, kneeling over Abram’s still body and the two holes in his back, the last cry dispelled from my lungs. I felt it ripping me apart but I didn’t hear it because I only heard the innocuous words he had murmured to me sweetly that one morning we had in his bed.

  “I have no intentions of ever leaving a scar with you.”

  Crying alone, surrounded by death but without so much as a scratch on my body, the words played on and on until the authorities came.

  epilogue

  eighteen months later

  “I heard you guys just bought a place close to where you lived when you were with Evan.”

  Tipsy off champagne, in her white princess ball gown, Holly sat with me on a big, flat rock – smack dab in the middle of the sprawling farm on which she’d decided to hold her wedding. After two delays, a mental breakdown and sanity revived by the trusty wedding boards of Pinterest, Holly had declared to want a simple barn wedding. Of course, it was on one of the most scenic farms in Tarrytown and shared the same budget one would put down on a two-bedroom house, but that was beside the point. She was finally married. And of course, to my ex.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty far south of our old apartment but it’s still the Upper East Side and it’s still quiet and peaceful, which I definitely need.”

  I had never thought I’d be able to attend Holly’s wedding to Evan. It had been such a massive betrayal to me when I’d learned that they’d gotten secretly engaged amid my depression over Elle’s death. But the night Evan had broken the news had been the same night that my life was transformed, for better or worse. The best and worst things of my life had happened in the less than two years following that fateful night and after all that I went through, it wasn’t hard for me to look past Holly’s stab in the back for just one night. We weren’t going to be friends again – certainly not the way we’d been. But she had reached out to me after she, like the rest of the world, heard what had happened in Las Vegas, and for the first time in a long time, she had come to me to simply listen. I didn’t say much that day – I had already spilled my heart to Rhode – but I appreciated that she offered to be there, and that she’d relayed messages between me and my mother until we were ready to speak one-on-one. And, of course, I appreciated that she let me bring Rhode as my plus one to her wedding.

  “Still kinda bummed that you didn’t bring your new man. I wouldn’t have minded the brouhaha,” Holly said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. I peered at her, looking like a page from a children’s book gone wrong in her perfect curls and frilly dress with a pack of Marlboros in her lap.

  “Since when did you start smoking?”

  “Since I had to plan a wedding alone. Evan’s a fucking slacker, you know that?”

  “Oh, I’m well aware,” I laughed. She laughed harder.

  “Fuck my life. I guess I’m just stuck with that slacker till I die. But that’s love, right?” She turned to me with a grin but it quickly faltered. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I – ”

  “It’s okay,” I cut her off.

  “You’re okay now, right?” Holly frowned at me, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Your mom said that you were sleeping better these days. And this new apartment helps. The new surroundings, right?”

  “Definitely. I think so,” I nodded. Since everything that had happened, and since Holly had helped me communicate with my mother until I was ready to see her, my relationship with my family had improved. She wasn’t completely heartless – my mother was obviously horrified to learn of everything I’d been through in Vegas and the four months prior, and we’d spent countless nights since then with a bottle of wine and all our memories of Elle, crediting her for a thousand different instances of strength we’d “seemingly pulled out of our asses” when really, it was her nudging us with a little help.

  “Do you definitely love this one? After everything that happened?” Holly asked out of nowhere. She blew another cloud of smoke, the only hint of grey in the acres of plush green and blue sky. She looked at me with a half grin. “Because I have like, binders worth of wedding info. Showrooms, venues, bakeries, hairstylists. I would totally give them to you as a sorry for, you know, marrying your ex.” I burst out laughing, which made her grin. “Oh, Isla. I’ve always loved your stupid laugh,” she said quietly, gazing out at the never-ending green. “Hey. You didn’t answer my question. You love this one, right? Because I don’t want you to be stuck
like me with a cute guy who you slowly realize is kind of a shitty asshole.”

  “Shut up, you just told me he was your soul mate during the rehearsal dinner.”

  “I know,” Holly pouted. “He is.” She giggled. “And what about you? Is your man your soul mate?”

  “I don’t know if I believe in soul mates.”

  “Oh, you’re saying I’m a liar and Evan’s not my soul mate?” Holly teased.

  “No. I mean maybe some people have one soul mate and other people have this weird, hard choice.” I tried to find my words through my own champagne buzz. “Like, instead of one person who’s definitely meant for you, you have say, two people and your life could be genuinely good with either, but you’d be a different person depending on who you choose. And whoever you choose, because you chose them, is the right one. If that makes sense.”

  “Not remotely but whatever you’ve been drinking, I want it,” Holly said. But then she leaned back on her elbows and gave me a serious look. “I mean do you like the person you are now? With him?”

  I hugged my knees and looked back at her. “I do. And I like the person he is with me.”

  “Then that’s all that matters. You guys just need time to get over everything that happened,” she said just as Rhode came out looking exhausted, her strappy heels in her hands and her strapless dress a couple inches askew.

  “Are you guys done hashing shit out? Because I’ve danced with literally every drunk aunt and uncle in that stupid barn and someone’s gonna notice soon that the bride is outside smoking.”

  “Alright, alright, I got it,” Holly said, hopping off the rock and slipping on her pumps. She looked up at me. “You want me to come with tomorrow?”

  I smiled. “I’m pretty sure you paid for a honeymoon in Tahiti. I don’t think Evan’s going to be down for you canceling on him so you can sit around and be sad with me tomorrow.”

  “Ugh, but I’m already tired of him,” Holly stuck out her tongue as she trudged up the grassy hill and back into the barn.

  “Trouble in paradise already?” Rhode laughed at herself as she climbed sloppily onto the rock.

  “No, she gripes about him because it’s fun for her. They love each other,” I said. It wasn’t a lie because I’d seen it. I was certain it hadn’t started this way but in the nearly two years since their engagement, Evan and Holly had grown to truly love each other. It was unexpected but it made me oddly happy to see. At this point, I was a fervent supporter of love. I knew too well how quickly all could be lost and I was painfully aware that the biggest mistake was to hold onto words unsaid.

  “Hey. We can’t leave here too late tonight if we want to get to the cemetery early tomorrow,” Rhode said. “I brought your good blanket, by the way. Don’t kill me.”

  We had booked a hotel room near the farm, which wasn’t a far drive to the cemetery. I had intentions of staying there for awhile tomorrow, which was why Rhode and I had packed what most people would for a picnic.

  Though we left Holly’s wedding late that night, we wound up arriving at the meadow before nine in the morning and staying well past noon, just talking quietly. Rhode had a fear of cemeteries but she did a stellar job of hiding it with me because she knew that I needed her there with me. That no matter what leaps and bounds I made, I’d never truly be over this, and that I’d be making this trip every year for the rest of my life, with the blanket and the flowers.

  “Dude, you need to get back home for dinner. Your man’s gonna be pissed,” Rhode said, suddenly lifting her head from my lap. “Shit, it’s Sunday. You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Sure do.”

  She laughed. “Look at you all perky about work when you hated everyone’s guts like, five months ago.”

  “Hate is a strong word,” I said, though I grinned crookedly because it wasn’t too far off. I had begun teaching at an elementary school in the Upper East Side, ten blocks from my house. I’d been thrilled to go and have a distraction after the legal matters of my drama in Vegas were finally over. But I’d been greeted with hostility, mostly from the members of the faculty who were under the impression that I, a criminal by romantic association, had somehow muscled my way into a position at their pure and wonderful school. Worse, there had been rumors that the board had accepted bribes from my “mobster Mafia boyfriend” and for awhile, I’d been the leper.

  It had been hard to fight through after the drama I’d already survived but I’d done it because my children adored me. I was finally, once again, Miss Maran, the teacher that Abram Lenox had once told me would be worshipped by her students. They knew no judgment and they helped me make it through until a couple teachers took sympathy on me the day I’d come in tear-streaked and disheveled. They had hustled me into the bathroom and cleaned up my streaked mascara, asking what in the world was wrong. I told them it was the anniversary of the day and they both hugged me till I was done crying, and as shallow as it might’ve been, the rest of the faculty softened toward me from that day forward. Those two women – Grace, who taught art and Quinn, a kindergarten teacher – remained good friends and I even got to see Rhode give Quinn a “slutty makeover” for fun one evening during our girls night.

  “Alright. You ready to go?” Rhode asked when the sky grew overcast. I nodded and we finally got up. She folded up the blanket and I kissed the stone cross before walking with her hand-in-hand, looking back before we got into the car.

  ~

  I could hear a pan sizzling from the kitchen, the smell of basil wafting through the air as I stepped into our townhouse. Jack, our English bulldog, bounded at me with his tongue out, jumping up and pawing in the way he did when he wanted something. “Uh-oh,” I murmured to myself as I took off my shoes. “You want what Daddy’s cooking, don’t you, pup?” Jack dropped to the floor dramatically, whining as if the last few hours of prep and cooking had been more torture than a dog could handle. I giggled at his dumb, adorable face. “Alright, I’ll see what it is and then we’ll decide if you can have any,” I said, tossing my jacket on the couch and making my way to the kitchen.

  I smiled to find him searing steaks over the stove, a half-full glass of red on the counter and the vent fan going strong enough that he didn’t notice me for the first couple of minutes. That was fine by me. I took the time to quietly pour myself some wine and watch him cook, since his being domestic in any way was still a novelty to me. And, of course, the view of his muscled back was always a welcome sight – and even more welcome as it flexed under his black T-shirt while he shook the sizzling pan. Perfectly healthy again.

  “Hey,” I finally said to snap him out of his zone.

  Abram turned around with a bit of surprise in his eyes. “How did you sneak in?”

  I laughed, Jack jumping desperately between us. “I didn’t, you’ve just been such a serious chef that you didn’t notice me. Sorry I didn’t get back in time to help.”

  “That’s okay. Good talk today?”

  “Yeah. I have a feeling Elle would’ve loved Rhode if she ever met her. I figure us going there together is like the girly sleepovers she never had,” I said with a little shrug, biting my lip when Abram came near to wipe the tear at the corner of my eye. “I’m okay,” I murmured lightly, letting him pull me in for a deep kiss. I smiled, snaking my arms around his neck, pulling him tight when he tried to pull away.

  “Isla, I can’t burn the steaks. I’ve got money on this,” he pleaded, so I finally let him return to the stove.

  Weeks ago, Rhode was supposed to make reservations to the Times’ newest four-star restaurant but in typical Rhode fashion, she had bottomless mimosas at brunch and forgot, which became a mild disaster because we were left without plans for Nate’s twenty-eighth birthday. She had called me one night, half-sad, half-laughing over the fact that Nate was genuinely disappointed about the blown reservation and had exiled her to the couch for the night. “I’m just kidding, he didn’t exile me, I wanted to watch this awesomely shitty Lifetime movie and he wanted to go to
sleep,” Rhode whispered on the phone. “But seriously, help me figure out how to fix this because I think he’s pretty upset.”

  So we decided to have Abram, the least culinarily inclined person of the group, cook a massive birthday dinner. Nate found the idea of Abram cooking for him hilarious so he was all for the plan and suggested putting money on whether or not Abram would be able to pull it off or if we’d wind up going to dinner at “The fuckin’ Monarch or something.” It was a five-dollar bet but the two were treating it as if it were high-stakes gambling.

  Perhaps because neither of them associated with gambling or fights anymore. The nights at the top of The Monarch had yet to resume and according to Abram, they never would. Since surviving the debacle at the Lux Towers in Vegas, we’d made a change in both our lives. I’d gone back to teaching and he’d forgone whatever dark thrill he got from running his underground parties. It wasn’t a difficult thing to let go of after the hard lesson we’d learned. He had daily reminders of why we should never go back to that life. For starters, I still woke up with night terrors from the night in Stefan’s hotel suite, though they were getting better in the past few months.

  Of course, I’d never forget every last detail of that night. I’d spent it essentially alone, Abram, Nate and Stefan rushed to the hospital. I followed but spent most of my time in a closed off room, talking to detectives. The strange gunman who had shot Nate, identified as Stefan’s drug dealer, had died on the scene. Abram’s clean shot through his chest had left him without so much as half a breath after collapsing. But he’d aimed at Stefan in the midst of turning me away from danger, so that particular shot had missed the heart by a couple inches. Still, Stefan died in the hospital that night.

  Nate had been the first to come to. His bullet had narrowly missed his kidney. I had been crying with him when a nurse rushed in to tell me that Abram had opened his eyes. Nate had nearly ripped every tube out of his body to get up and see him. Luckily, the poor nurse held him back and I had run to see Abram, who had weakly managed to joke that I please not waste his efforts to survive to gunshot wounds by drowning him with my tears.