Page 100 of Callum

Kyler uses the position to her advantage, fists pounding into my face and arms. She knocks the gun from my hand, and I retaliate by flipping us. My fist crunches into her ribs, and I hear the air hiss out of her lungs. She tries to defend against my hand slamming into her face, but she only manages to deflect it slightly. I can see the skin split across her cheekbone.

She makes a sound like a dying animal before I’m being pitched backward, my shoulder cracking against the side of the dresser painfully. Kyler flips onto her feet, pulling a knife from some hidden place on her torso.

Rosalind’s knife.

“I meant it when I said I would kill you for torturing her,” I spit, and Kyler grins. It’s a vicious look, her lips curling around bloody teeth. She waves her free hand at me in a “bring it on” gesture, and I lunge.

You’re never supposed to charge someone with a knife, especially when they know what they’re doing, and there’s a good reason for that.

Those things are fucking sharp.

Kyler slices the blade across my arm as we fall to the ground again. She twists, stabbing me in the thigh before managing to scramble away from me. I grab her ankle, pulling her to the ground again. She swings the blade through the air between us, narrowly missing my cheek.

I’m so busy watching the knife that I don’t see her boot until it’s connecting with my forehead. “Son of a bitch!”

Kyler makes a sound that I think might be a laugh, and I reach for her again, getting a fistful of her jacket this time. I’m ready for her attempt to stab me, quickly spinning my arm under her body until she’s forced to flip onto her stomach. She growls, pressing onto all fours and knocking me off balance.

I take her with me, one arm wrapped around her waist, and suplex her into the dresser. She groans, and I hear something skitter across the floor.

Rosalind’s knife is lying three feet away from Kyler, and I dive for it. The shit sees where I’m headed and tackles me into the side of the bed. We twist across the top of the mattress before slamming into the ground on the other side.

She elbows me in the throat, and I knee her in the ribs hard enough that something cracks. I hum a victorious sound, but my excitement is short-lived. Something breaks across my temple, and the room goes fuzzy around the edges. My vision pulses, and I feel Kyler scramble away from me. I’m aware she’s climbing out the window, but I can’t get my body to follow her.

I lay on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sudden swell of nausea to abate. When the room stops spinning long enough for me to get my legs under my body, I crawl toward the object glinting in the moonlight.

My fingers close around Rosalind’s knife, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s going to be so happy when I give it back to her.

As soon as I get her back.

Fumbling for my phone, I manage to dial the number I’ve known by heart since I was sixteen years old.

“They have her.”

My oldest brother doesn’t hesitate, the steely resolve of his voice bringing me the last bit of comfort I need. “Let’s go get her back.”

Twenty-Eight: Trunks and Ties

ROSALIND

The door closes softly behind me as I turn to face my fate. Kyler is sitting on the bed, one knee propped up and the other stretched along the mattress top as if she belongs there. There’s a moment where I think the security team might have been mistaken, and only one person broke in, but then I see Ginetta standing in the corner of the room. It makes sense she would seem so at home amongst the shadows with how dark her soul turned out to be.

“Ladies,” I calmly greet them, moving both hands away from my body so they don’t think I’m reaching for any weapons. “Any particular reason you’re lurking in my bedroom?”

“You ran from us, Rosalind.”

“You tried to kill me, Ginetta.”

“Semantics.” She doesn’t deny it, despite what Harlowe said to the contrary. Figures, Harlowe wouldn’t know the whole story.

My eyes never leave Kyler, knowing that she’s the more significant threat here. “What can I do for you?”

Ginetta snorts, moving out of the shadows. “It’s time, Rosalind.”

“Time for what?”

She sighs, taking another creeping step in my direction. I don’t like how close she’s getting, but I don’t move away. I’m not going to be the one that gives in. “Time for you to come home.”

“I am home.” The words are out before I realize I’m thinking them, but they’re true. This is my home because Callum is here. Does he know that he’s my home? He always has been. I was just too foolish to see it before.

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