Page 73 of Say You're Mine

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Natalie, slipping through the crowd, her face set with grim determination. Our eyes meet, and she gives a single, sharp nod.

It's time.

I'm moving before I can think, before I can breathe. Dante is beside me, his presence a solid reassurance as we navigate the twists and turns of the church's back hallways.

And then we're there, outside the room where Elaine has Cara. I can hear voices from within, Elaine's sharp and venomous, Cara's strained with fear and defiance.

I reach for the handle, but Dante stops me. "Remember," he says, his voice low and urgent. "We need Elaine alive. She's no good to us dead."

I nod, even as every cell in my body screams for her blood. For what she's done to me, to Cara, to our family... death is too good for her.

Dante counts down silently. Three. Two. One.

I burst through the door, every nerve singing with adrenaline. The first thing I see is a wall of black suits - Elaine's security detail, no doubt. They turn as one, reaching for their weapons, but I'm already moving.

The first guard goes down with a sickening crunch, my elbow connecting with his nose. I feel the cartilage shatter, taste the coppery tang of blood in the air. But there's no time to savor it. They're on me in an instant, a storm of fists and fury.

I let the rage take over, let it fuel my muscles and sharpen my reflexes. These men, they're just obstacles, barriers between me and Cara. And I'll tear through a hundred of them if that's what it takes.

Dante is a whirlwind at my side, his movements brutal and efficient. We fall into a rhythm, a deadly dance of strike and counter, cover and advance. The floor grows slick with blood, the air heavy with the grunts and groans of pain.

A bullet grazes my arm, a white-hot lance of agony. I barely feel it. My focus is absolute, honed to a razor's edge. Each blow, each bone-shattering impact, brings me one step closer to Cara.

The last guard falls with a gurgling cry, his throat crushed beneath my fingers. I drop him, already scanning the room, my heart pounding a wardrum in my chest.

There.

Elaine, her once immaculate coiffure now disheveled, her eyes wild. And in her grip, a gleaming length of steel pressed against the pale column of Cara's throat.

"Not another step," she hisses, her voice thready with panic. "Or I'll paint the walls with her blood."

Cara's eyes meet mine, wide and terrified. But beneath the fear, I see it. That flicker of defiance, of strength. She's not broken. Not beaten.

And neither am I.

"It's over, Elaine," I say, my voice deadly calm. "You've lost. Let her go, and I might consider making your death quick."

She laughs, a thin, manic sound. "Oh, Juniper. Still so naive. You think this ends with me? You have no idea the forces you're dealing with, the lengths I'll go to..."

I take a step forward, my blood singing with the need to rend, to tear, to destroy. "No, Mother. You have no idea what I'm capable of. The things I'll do to keep my family safe."

Her grip on the knife wavers, her eyes darting between Cara and me. I can see the calculations whirring behind her eyes, the desperate search for an angle, an advantage.

She won't find one. Not this time.

"June..." Cara's voice is strained, but steady. "The baby. Don't let her hurt the baby."

Elaine's grin turns vicious, triumphant. "Yes, June. Think of your child. What would you do to keep it safe? What would you sacrifice?"

Everything. The answer burns in my blood, sears my very soul. I would give anything, do anything, to protect my family.

Even if it means surrendering to the darkness. Even if it means losing myself.

I meet Cara's gaze, seeing the trust, the love, the unwavering faith shining back at me. And I know, with a certainty that goes beyond thought, beyond reason, that she feels the same.

We are bound, she and I. Two halves of a shattered whole. And together, we will always be stronger than the sum of our broken parts.

I let the cold calm settle over me, let the fury crystalize into something hard and sharp and deadly. When I speak, my voice is scarcely recognizable, a guttural rasp of promise and menace.

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