Page 71 of Vows in Violence

“Yes!” Lulu pumps her fists and jumps up and down, celebrating. This is her first takedown.

Evie whistles, the sharp sound in the confines of the room claiming our attention. “All right. You guys are getting better, but you still have a long way to go. So let’s not celebrate too much. Next, we are going to—”

She breaks off, head cocked toward the ceiling in a listening posture.

“Wha—?” Lulu begins and then stops when Evie holds up a hand.

Then we hear it. I see the blood drain from Rowan’s face, a mirror of my own, I’m sure. Even from the basement, the sound is loud and sickening—the repeated rhythm of gunfire.

My blood turns to ice in my veins, and my head whips toward the door.

Ivan.

“Oh, my God.” Rowan springs to her feet, wringing her hands. “What do we do? Do we stay? Should we try to help? Hide? I don’t—”

Carina and Evie exchange glances and run to the table, and Rowan falls silent. Magazines rack loudly in the absence of sound, and they head to the door.

Lulu’s eyes are huge in her pale face. “You aren’t really going out there, are you? Maybe we should stay…or should we come—?”

Carina pauses in the doorway. “We are, but you are not. You are staying right here. Evie and I have done this before. If Azrael is attacking the mansion, then they know all of us are here. This is it, ladies. Drill’s over.”

“Bar this door and let no one in,” Evie chimes in.

Rowan’s gaze skates frantically around the room. “Bar it with what? There’s no lock.”

Evie is already moving down the hall. “Whatever you can get in front of the door. Ready, Carina?”

“I’m always ready.”

The two of them leave the room. Rowan is shaking. I take stock and am faintly surprised that I’m not in the same state. Carina was right; none of them are ready for this kind of fight. Judging by the noise coming from above us, it’s bad.

But I’m not worried about myself.

I’m worried about Ivan. I know that he is perfectly capable of handling himself, but anything can happen in a situation like this. Anything can go wrong.

He could get extremely unlucky.

It’s something no one can control.

Metal grinds against the dirt floor, and I look over to see Lulu dragging the sturdy metal table into position in front of the door. Spurred into action, I move to help her push it into place.

We survey our sanctuary. Aside from the table, there isn’t much else with which to bar the door. There are several massive gun cabinets lining a wall, but when the three of us attempt to move one, it doesn’t budge.

A stack of crates holds a collection of paper targets, but they are made of old, flimsy wood.

The table won’t hold long. Our only real hope is that no one comes down here.

On the far side of the room, I can hear Rowan chanting to herself. “Reset. Reset. Reset.” She has slid down the wall to sit against it, knees pulled to her chest, and her eyes squinched closed.

With a glance at Lulu, I walk over to her, sit down beside her, and hug her against me.

Rowan’s voice is muffled against my shirt when she speaks a moment later. “I need Clementine.”

Rowan’s ginormous ginger cat had been left at their apartment. It had been Cassidy’s decision, and according to Rowan’s earlier statement, she hadn’t much cared for it. Clementine went with hereverywhere.

I can almost see why he made that call. As much as Clementine does for Rowan, I’m pretty sure that gunfire…and a subsequent gunfight…were probably not covered in his therapy training. “He’s better off where he is,” I say. “He would have been terrified.”

“Yes.” Rowan nods. “He would have been so scared. God, I’m so selfish—” A tear trails down her cheek.

---