Page 112 of Beautiful Cruelty

The city blurs past as we speed toward the heliport. Lacey shifts beside me, the rustle of her wedding dress filling the silence.

"This feels familiar," she says, a hint of mischief in her voice. "But last time, you were much less gentle about getting me into the car."

"You weren't exactly as cooperative as you are now." I can't help but smirk. "Or carrying such precious cargo."

"And now look at us." Her hand finds mine in the darkness. "Me, willingly sitting next to you after we just stole from a church."

"Technically, we borrowed a bible and left a replacement." My thumb traces circles on her palm. "And you looked just as beautiful fighting me as you do now as my accomplice."

She doesn't say anything, but leans closer, her citrus and lavender scent teasing my senses.

The car turns onto the private road leading to the heliport. Through the windshield, I can see the helicopter's blades already spinning, ready for our arrival.

"Come on," I say as we pull up to the tarmac. "Our ride awaits."

I help Lacey from the car, supporting her as she gathers her dress. The wind from the rotors whips the fabric around us as we make our way to the helicopter. Once inside, I secure her harness while the pilot runs through his final checks.

"Irina's waiting with the jet." I tell her over the headset. "Twenty minutes and we'll be on our way home."

She squeezes my hand as I help her into the helicopter. Even through the thundering blades, I catch her whispering the word "home."

The helicopter lifts off, carrying us away from the chaos we've left behind. Lacey's hand remains firmly in mine as the city shrinks beneath us.

The helicopter touchesdown at Melun Villaroche. Through the windshield, I spot Irina standing by the jet's stairs, her red hair whipping in the rotor wash. Relief floods through me.

We're almost there.

I help Lacey down from the helicopter, her wedding dress billowing around us as we rush towards the jet. The tarmac stretches empty and long before us.

Suddenly, the sound of engines cuts through the air.

Multiple black SUVs screech onto the tarmac. My heart drops—Sayanaa's men. They must have figured out that this was where I'd be and radioed ahead to cut us off.

"Run!" I grab Lacey's hand and sprint toward the jet. Gunfire erupts behind us. Irina pulls a pistol from beneath her jacket and starts firing back, providing us cover.

Lacey stumbles in her wedding dress. I wrap my arm around her waist, half-carrying her as we race across the concrete. I can feel the bible bouncing against her with each step.

We're almost there!

A bullet cracks past my ear. Another pings off the jet's fuselage. Irina's gun barks steadily, keeping the attackers at bay as the two of us rush up the stairs. There's a triumphant smile on her face when she sees us.

"You did it!" she cries out as she keeps firing.

Then I hear it.

The unmistakable sharp crack of a rifle, louder and more terrible than the other weapons.

As if in slow motion, Irina jerks backward, red blooming across her chest like a grotesque flower. Her emerald eyes go wide with shock as she stumbles, and the pistol slips from her fingers even as the smile on her face remains.

"No!" Lacey's scream is piercing.

She breaks free from my grip and rushes towards Irina's crumpling body. Blood stains the pristine white of Lacey's wedding dress where she cradles Irina to her.

"No! No! No!" Lacey sobs, pressing her hands against the wound. Blood seeps between her fingers, staining them crimson. "Please! Please stay with us."

More bullets strike the jet around us. I need to get them inside, but Lacey won't let go of Irina.

The blood keeps spreading, soaking her wedding dress in a dark nauseating red.

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