Page 27 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

Keeping my eyes trained on the glass, I don’t dare take my attention away from them until they storm from the room, then I drop to the floor. Clinging to my son, I finally let the tears flow.

ELEVEN

LAYA

Afamiliar whirring noise sets the hairs on the back of my neck on edge, and I snap my head up from the bedpost, with Romero on my chest.

Terror grips me, and Romero lets out a low whimper. When the door opens, relief floods me to see a familiar face.

Nico stands in the doorway, his face pale and full of uncertainty. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head and hiccup on the sob bubbling inside me.

“You’re safe now, Laya. You both are.” He nods toward Romero. “Come on, sweetheart, I’m going to get you both out of here.” As he holds out his hand, I attempt to stand, but my legs are wobbly and won’t comply. “I’ve got you.” He steps into the room, and I back away, attempting to make myself smaller. “Laya. You can trust me, sweetheart.”

My chest hitches on the familiar words, and when I tilt my head up, he has devastation bleeding from his eyes, and it hits me. He lost Carlos too; he was like a brother to him.

“I-I’m sorry.” My lip quivers as much as I try not to let it.

He strokes a hand over his head, and when he glances over his shoulder toward the glass, he briefly closes his eyes before turning back to face me. “I covered him up. We need to get you both out of here.”

“Where will we go?” I whisper.

“You’re going home.”

Those three words lodge in my chest, and I choke on air. A sudden need to get there quicker has me standing on shaky legs.

Nico glances around the small room. “Do you need to take anything?”

Swallowing, I stare down at my bare feet. I’m still wearing Carlos’s shirt that I slept in, my bra, and panties, and nothing else. “The rucksack.” I point toward the bag Carlos bought in with him, and Nico picks it up. He unzips it, then hands me a pair of sneakers that Carlos had the foresight to pack on my behalf. The feeling of sickness that has been taunting me threatens to rear itself at the thought he considered my footwear while knowing he would die. Because there’s not a doubt in my mind that he knew his fate, and that knowledge sits heavily in my stomach.

Almost robotically, without releasing Romero, I push my feet into the sneakers, then bend down and grab the bag, and Nico helps me drape the diaper bag over my shoulder.

“You ready?”

My mouth that is unbelievably dry doesn’t seem to want to function, so I just nod.

“Try not to look.”

His words send a shudder through me, but again, I agree, and when he places his hand in mine, I allow it, unsure of whether it’s comforting me or him. It’s not lost on me that my husband would have killed Nico for touching me, but the wayhe’s protecting us has me following him blindly through the bathroom and into the bedroom.

The room smells like a combination of copper and Carlos’s cologne, a cruel taunt, the air bathed in his life as well as his death. The sheets are pulled from our marital bed and draped over his body, and I squeeze Nico’s hand tighter as a thank you.

He steers us through the room and toward the landing, and I finally get to see the destruction of what used to be our pristine family home now filled with only nightmares.

TWELVE

LAYA

My mind reels. Unable to comprehend the events of the day, I’m not sure how long it took to get to Nico’s private jet. I was in a state of shock, and again, I’m unsure when we landed, at which point I was carried to a waiting car. Nico tried to explain that Owen was aware of the situation, but the conversation fell on deaf ears, as I was in such a state of trauma I could comprehend nothing other than the destruction of my life. After feeding Romero, I fell asleep, then he woke me to say we’d arrived at a secure location.

In a complete blur, he took me and Romero through a private elevator in a hotel, then up to the presidential floor before explaining nobody can access the floor. Sympathy oozed from him, and as much as I wanted nothing more than comfort, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.

Then he turned, leaving me here and telling me Owen was on his way.

He left, and I struggled to remain standing. With his departure, he was taking a part of my life with him I can never get back.

Only the haunting memories of its existence will stay with me.

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