Page 137 of Dash

“It’s possible,” I said. “What about civilians?”

“All civilians are unhurt and accounted for in a safe room in the basement. Trev’s watching over them. Mina’s coordinating the emergency response and working on restoring full comms. Ferranti and Cooper have located and defused Shaw’s explosives. We reactivated the automated defense system before we headed this way. We got it under control, boss.”

“Not bad for a hard day at work.” I pushed up from the floor. “You’re done. Let’s go.”

“Goddess is not in the sheds,” King reported as he and Guzman stalked in.

“Where’s Arthur Fucking Astor?” Guzman asked.

“On the other side of the table,” I said as Bozeman helped me up. “Electrocuted to death.”

“That’s a fuck no, boss.” Guzman swept the space behind the table. “He’s not here.”

“Well, shit.” My heart plummeted. “We gotta find the fucker and fast.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

Thena

I crossed the yard, avoiding the spots where small flames consumed the dry vegetation in the abandoned gardens. The explosion of my cameo had done some damage to the grounds, but my softball pitcher muscle memory had taken over and I’d thrown it far enough to avoid burning down the house. Even now, the fire waned beneath the light of the moon.

The air chilled my lungs and the cold snow stung my bare feet. I hid in the gardeners’ shed. The cracks of gunfire startled me out of a state of shock. So many things had happened tonight. So many things were still happening.

Huddled behind the sacks of mulch, I soon discovered that I had no feeling in my fingers and toes. I was shivering too hard. I’d freeze to death if I stayed out here any longer. I tiptoed to the door and peeked out. It was odd. The yard was silent. No sounds came from the house. I didn’t know what that meant, didn’t even want to ponder the implications of such ominous silence, but I did know that, to survive the night, I had to get warm.

Moving cautiously along the wall, holding the gun, I rounded the house and entered through the back door. I paused at the kitchen. It was quiet, so quiet. My heart squeezed. It was as if the grim reaper had passed through the house and left no one alive but me.

Where was Dash? Was he okay? Were all my friends dead? If they were, had they taken my uncle’s thugs with them?

Listening carefully, moving quietly, I climbed the back stairs. I made my way to the hallway window. It opened easily beneath my hands. After tucking the gun in my pocket, I stepped out to the sill, scooted across the ledge, and reached up.Grabbing onto the iron rungs, I climbed up and then trekked across the roof, over the battlements, and down to our secret spot next to my tower. It had always hidden my heart’s desires and cradled my life’s best hopes.

Please, come to me, Dash. Please.

After all this time apart, after all the hurt and the suffering, we’d gotten back together again. Now the old fears returned to haunt me. If something happened to Dash, my heart would die with him. I crouched in the corner, wrapped my arms around my body, and bit down on my lips, trying to stop myself from shaking. Dash. My friends. My sisters. I refused to believe that death had defeated us tonight.

I looked up at the sky, trying to find reassurance in the stars, but a film of clouds blotched the night and the stars that had served my mother so well continued to forsake me. Slowly, the roof’s heating system thawed me out a little. My toes and fingers had recovered some sensation by the time a sound echoed from the other side of the battlements.

Dash?

My hope soared before I got a handle on it. I had no idea of where I stood on the safety scale. One thing was clear in my mind. I wasn’t going to be a hostage again.

I slid out the Colt from my pocket and retreated to the shadows beneath the eves. Crouching in the dark corner, I made myself small. Huffs and puffs reached me before a large silhouette came over the battlements. A heavy body landed on the warm roof where I stood. The moon reflected on the glossy finish of Shaw’s now familiar Beretta, right before it illuminated the bulky figure limping around, cautiously exploring my little piece of paradise.

Uncle Shit.

My heart dropped to my feet before it broke out into a gallop. He wasn’t dead. He was here. Searching for me. Underthe moonlight, he looked bloody and disheveled. The cut across his face was bleeding again. He was limping, and his right arm wasn’t working, but he held the gun in his left. He waddled around, wild-eyed and unsteady, but despite his injuries, he’d followed me up here. I gritted my teeth. Evil had a longer lifespan than good. Roaches were hard to kill.

“The show is over, dear,” he whispered in the night. “Dashiell is dead. All of your friends are dead.”

My chest seized. For a few moments, I couldn’t draw breath. I knew this man was capable of all kinds of lies, but this one ripped my heart out of my chest. I had to hope he was lying, but what about all that silence? What if he wasn’t lying?

My eyes filled up. My hands started to shake around the Colt. My legs, too. It was hard to stay at a crouch.

“I just got word.” He peered into the eaves opposite from me. “The hired assassins worked fast. All your sisters are dead.”

I choked on a sob.

“Ah, there you are, dear.” He turned to face me, lowered himself into a crouch until he was eye level with me. Pointing his gun at me, he flashed his terrifying grin. “The last of the Astor princesses, hiding in her tower. You must be so very sad.”

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