Page 41 of Queen of Spades

“Anders please,” Grace whined, rocking in his lap, and he smirked up at Doug.

“Not everyone is in and out in five seconds, Douglas,” Anders replied smugly. This was the same conceited tone that had gotten him into countless fights when we were younger, and I would recognize it anywhere. He was baiting Douglas, and I saw the flash of temper cross the bastard’s face.

“What did I say?” Douglas snapped, stalking over to them and wrenching Grace off of Anders lap by her hair. Anders and I shot to our feet, rage exploding out of us as he slammed her against the wall, making her cry out in pain. “I’ll show you, you ungrateful bitch. I’m the only one you need, don’t ever forget that!”

“Leave her alone, you sick fuck!” I shouted as Douglas tore at the fabric of Grace’s leggings, ripping a large hole from her hip down to her thigh. Grace screamed, and I saw a flash of metal as she slammed her hand up into his neck. Douglas stumbled back, clutching his throat. A small, familiar-looking pocket knife jutted out from the side of his neck.

“I fucking hate you!” Grace seethed, advancing on him as he stumbled back, blood trickling out of his mouth as he opened it, trying to speak. “I hope you rot in hell, you fucking monster.” Swiftly, she grabbed the knife and wrenched it out of his neck, and we watched as blood cascaded from the gaping wound. Douglas grabbed at his throat, his eyes wide and panicked as he dropped to his knees in front of us. Anders was full-on grinning, a manic look in his eyes as Douglas’s face paled, and he collapsed forward into the floor.

“Kitten, look at me,” Anders called softly, his hand outstretched. Grace was covered in blood, looking like an avenging angel, the knife still clutched in her hand.

“I killed him,” she murmured, looking a little dazed. “I killed him.”

“Come here, Grace,” Anders repeated, more firmly this time. She stepped toward him slowly, her eyes still fixed on Douglas’s body on the floor. We were in a room full of corpses, one that I’d really like to leave. “You’re okay,” he told her gently, pulling her into his arms.

“Can we go home now, please?” she whispered, and he kissed the top of her head.

“Of course, Kitten, anything you want.”

Grace eventually crept outside the room to go and find the key for the metal shackles on our ankles. Apparently, they were in the dead guy’s pocket just outside, and Douglas hadn’t bothered to retrieve them or move the body yet. Once we were freed, Anders grabbed the gun out of Douglas’s holster and checked that it was loaded before we began our escape.

Anders took the lead, with Grace behind him, as I followed closely, using the wall to steady myself. The basement wasempty, thankfully, but we could hear footsteps above us, and who knew how many were Douglas’s hired thugs.

I shifted ahead of them as we reached the top of the stairs, pushing the door open as quietly as possible and peeking outside. The kitchen was empty, which was strange, and I crept out, looking around carefully. “Come on,” I hissed, and Anders and Grace slipped out after me as we headed down toward the front door.

A crashing sound froze us in our tracks, and Anders pulled Grace into the dining room, out of sight, as I continued forward. Voices were getting closer, and I pressed back into the wall as footsteps approached from around the corner.

“Where the fuck is the basement entrance?” someone hissed, sounding irritated.

“I didn’t think to ask her because I assumed the house would have a normal fucking layout!” I’d knowthatvoice anywhere.

“Erik!” I called out, and the footsteps stopped abruptly.

“Levy?” he called back, and I laughed at the confusion in his voice. Erik rounded the corner in a near sprint, a bulletproof vest over his button-up shirt, his hair in a ponytail. Jesse was hot on his heels, and when I flickered into view both their faces lit up. Jesse ran at me, pulling me into a tight hug. Fuck, it was such a relief to see them again.

“Grace and Anders?” Erik asked anxiously, Sparrow and two men I didn’t recognize from her crew appearing behind them with their guns drawn.

“Erik!” Grace popped out from their hiding spot and dashed toward him. He caught her in his arms and lifted her right off her feet, burying his face in her neck.

“Thank fucking god,” he murmured, holding her for a long moment before he finally set her down to examine her. We all looked horrible, but Grace was still covered in blood, the bandage on her arm soaked through, and her leggings shredded. “Where is he?” he growled, looking at me, and then at Anders, who had approached silently to watch the reunion.

“Dead,” I told him, and Jesse let go of me to move to Grace’s side, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“And Gregori?” Erik asked, glancing at Anders.

“Also dead,” Anders replied. Erik walked up to him slowly, and much to everyone’s shock, he grabbed Anders by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a hug. Anders looked as bewildered as I felt, patting Erik awkwardly on the back a couple of times before Erik finally released him, a large smile on his face.

“Let’s go home,” he grinned.

In actuality, there was a lot more that was still left to take care of, so when Erik said ‘home’, he really meant Sparrow’s tavern. Erik and Anders each took charge of their own portions of the playing field; Anders securing his father’s men—now his through inheritance—and Erik handling his side of things. Sparrow was busy dealing with her guys and securing a clean-up crew to handle the mess of corpses at both our places, as well the ones we’d left at Grace’s home. Once the illicit business was handled, the lawyers were calledin to handle the legitimate business affairs. No less than six of them converged on the bar, sitting with Erik, Anders, and Grace, who came down with damp hair and borrowed clothes to meet with them.

If any of them were concerned about being surrounded by terrifying-looking bikers, they didn’t mention it.

Not needed for the discussions about estate, share holdings, and account balances, and too tired to pretend I was interested, I asked Wren if I could use her shower and snuck away, heading upstairs.

Stripping out of my clothes, I forced myself to be visible so I could look myself over in the mirror while the water heated up. The wounds on my back were still healing, and one of them had torn open when we’d been taken, so Wren had needed to re-stitch it. My face was bruised, and I could see the goose-egg lump on the back of my head where they’d hit me to knock me out.

I stepped under the hot water, groaning in relief as it eased some of the tension in my body. I knew they hadn’t touched me, none of that had been real. But the ache around my neck from the belt lingered, and my ankle burned where I’d torn the skin by pulling against the shackle. The ghosts of their hands on my skin, hurting me, cutting me… it felt so real. I shivered, knowing the nightmares would be back tonight. Douglas’s nightmares lived on, ever after he was long dead.

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