Page 57 of Beloved Sacrifice

“Wesley.” Marek used his alias, then corrected himself. “Weston, I will not allow you to—”

Weston punched him in the solar plexus.

Marek must have seen it coming, because the muscles of his abdomen were tensed when Weston’s fist connected. Instead of knocking the wind out of the other man, Weston’s blow only cause a momentary pause before Marek recovered and rolled away, popping to his feet with a practiced motion that made Weston’s right knee say “Hahaha, yeah, I can’t do that.”

“Stop.” Rose’s voice was soft—it trembled a little. But something in her tone made him freeze. He rolled onto his back.

Rose held his gun, and her finger was on the trigger.

She pointed it at Marek’s chest. Weston clambered to his feet, grinned. Damn, his girl was as brave and badass as any of them.

Then she swung the gun to point it at him.

She ran away from you, dumbass. And she’s not the girl you fell in love with. A lifetime has passed since then.

The gun swung back to Marek, who raised his hands. When the muzzle pointed his way, Weston did the same.

“I could shoot both of you.” She inhaled and then exhaled slowly. The trembling vanished and the soft, formal, head-bent submissive posture melted away. “Bang. Bang. With both of you dead, I’d be free. No one would have any idea where I was.”

Marek cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better to discuss—”

“Discuss what? What are my options?” She stepped onto the first stair, toeing bits of broken railing off the step. They clattered against the floor. “I go with you,” the gun swiveled to Marek, “and Juliette has me interrogated and then quietly executed.”

She took another step up.

“I go with you—” The gun swung to Weston.

He stiffened and interrupted her. He didn’t want to know how she’d end that sentence. “And you get answers,” he told her. “We’ll take them down. Come with me, Rose.”

Rose shook her head, took another step. “Does it matter anymore? Tabby is safe.”

“We’ll avenge Caden.”

The gun started to tremble, and Weston was more than a little worried she’d pull the trigger by accident. “Avenge him? I went nuts when he was shot, but now I realize—what’s the point? He won’t be any less dead. Tabby’s safe. There’s no one left to protect.”

“Yourself,” Marek said quietly. “You need to protect yourself. Running won’t do that.”

Weston wished he could see Marek, but the other man was on his right.

“You think I don’t know that? I told you how many times I tried to run. They’ll find me eventually.” Rose took another two steps up, crouching slightly so she could still see them. She was more than halfway up the stairs at this point. If she bolted up, she might be able to make it to the top, and close and lock the door before either of them could catch her.

And damn it he’d just lumped himself in with Marek, as if they were on the same side.

Rose looked between them, and for a moment he thought he saw something on her face, a sort of surprised longing. Then she shook her head.

“But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be free for a little while.”

With that, Rose stood, her upper body disappearing out of sight. Her bare feet slapped against one step, then another.

Weston jumped forward, his shoulder bumping Marek’s as they raced for the stairs.

Rose gasped—and the sound of her footsteps stopped.

He and Marek both pulled up short. He could see her feet and ankles, watched as she once more did a slow pivot on the ball of one bare foot, wincing as she moved. Rose reversed direction and took a step down, moving slowly and deliberately. Her thighs, hips, and waist came into view. Her hands were empty. She no longer held the gun.

Behind her, a second figure was coming down, boots hitting each tread with a sure thump.

Rose’s chest, shoulders, and neck appeared. A thin, gleaming sword was pressed against her throat.

---