Page 108

He drives over the broken gates and up the long driveway.

Torin has the car stopped before I’ve registered we’re no longer moving. I’m out the door straight behind him.

From here, we can see the east wing is consumed in flames, and the rest is catching. The east wing is the addition, going up like a fucking bonfire.

My mind is racing.

The old house is stone though. If we can keep it fucking contained…

Cormac and Nolan are on the lawn when we reach them, panting.

“Bronwyn’s inside. We couldn’t get her. The east corridor⁠—”

Torin’s already through the door, with me right behind him.

“Stay back, Valentina!”

Fuck no.

The smoke is low and moving fast. I pull my collar up and bend down, tracking Torin’s back through the dark. A loud crack sounds above our heads. He pulls me down with him as a beam crashes to the floor inches away, blocking our exit to the main door.

We make it to the east corridor. I’m coughing and wheezing, and so is he.

I see her before I register what I'm seeing. Someone small. Hair fanned out across the floor like she simply lay down. Bronwyn.

I'm on my knees before I've decided to move. “Bronwyn.” I shake her once, twice. Nothing. She stirs and coughs.

“Thank Christ,” he growls, choking as he lifts her onto his shoulder and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling toward the huge bay window where Caitlin sits and reads. It doesn’t open.

“Stand back!” Without hesitation, I kick it straight in the center. The first kick does nothing. The second breaks the frame, and with the third, my foot goes straight through. Glass shatters. I do it again and again until we have a space large enough for her to get through.

I tear off my shirt and throw it over the jagged edge. The chilly night air makes me shiver, but I don’t care. I won’t have her scratched to hell, even if it’s to save her life.

I look over the windowsill. It’s a short drop to the ground. I step out, grab the ledge, and let myself fall. I tumble, then quickly stand, hands raised.

“I’ll catch her, Torin! Slide her down!”

Cold hands. That's all I register before I'm down, one arm locked across my chest and a hand flat over my mouth before the scream can get out. I know the smell before I know anything else. Sour. Close. Him.

“You dumb bitch.” The familiar voice behind me makes my skin crawl.

“Let me go! Torin!”

“You think it’s you I’m after? It’s him we want.”

My mind clicks into place. Everything arranges itself.

I fall deadweight to the ground. The hands around me loosen. Someone curses and kicks at me. I roll on instinct, just missing the kick. He’s standing in front of me—the man I hate, my tormentor, his eyes blazing straight through me.

“Come here, then,” I snarl. “Come on and get me.” As soon as he lunges for me, I pivot and elbow him as hard as I can, right between the legs. I hit my mark, and he falls to his knees with a howl.

“Valentina!” Torin’s voice is above me. But I’m not done yet. I drive myself upward, palm up, and slam the heel into his nose. Blood spurts, and he screams in pain, cursing me out.

“He’s here! Torin!” Floodlights flash on, illuminating the pathway and my attacker. Blood streams from his nose, and he’s crouched on the ground.

“Stand back!” Torin howls above me. I leap back. The gunshot is deafening. He falls to the ground in front of me. Dead.

I race to the window, where Torin stands over me in the window frame, Bronwyn still on his shoulder and the gun still in his hand.