Page 76 of All Saints Day
“Frank, we can all get out of here—” I begin to protest, but he silences me, covering my mouth with his just as the explosives strapped to the torture chamber door explode.
And then we're up and moving—me taking point, Louise nearly pressed against my back—Frank covering her as Caz, Quentin, and Seb bring up the rear.
We make our way through what's left of the hallway, dust anddebris clouding the narrow space while we sprint toward the rotunda, and hopefully, our freedom.
“Hey! Denny! Let me catch up to you—I have a little present for our friends waiting ahead!” Seb calls to me at the head of the pack.
I slow my pace slightly, guiding Louise toward the wall as Sébastien makes his way up the line—a bag of improvised explosives hanging from his shoulder.
Frank and Louise crouch, pressed against the wall about 20 feet from the heavy metal door that separates the east wing from the main rotunda.
“There's about 30 bad guys ready and waiting on the other side of that door,” Caz shouts back at Seb as he reviews security camera feeds throughout The Country Estate from the glassy surface of his mobile.
The other Saints filter in behind the crouching Frank and Louise as I kick the heavy door open, allowing Seb to lob one of his explosives into the wading sea of goons. A hail of gunfire rains down on the open door before we slam it shut; a loud boom and a wave of pressure from the explosion nearly take the door off of its hinges.
“We've gotta move. They're down, but it won't take long for the Windmill to send reinforcements—we've got to get out of here!” Caz yells, surveying the damage on the grainy security feed.
Even though we made short work of the entrance to Rook's torture chamber in the east wing, there are still Windmill security agents filtering in from deeper in the facility, who begin to traverse the wreckage in short order.
“Remember what I said,” Frank barks at me before he stands, taking Louise with him—his hands clamped over her shoulders.
“There aren't words strong enough to show my repentance, to beg your forgiveness, or to atone for my sins, sweet Lucifer,” he speaks, voice soft and shaky with the unshed tears. “I could throw myself into the fires of hell—cast all the broken pieces of my twistedsoul into the infernal crucible—the flame seeking purification and finding none.”
Louise stands frozen, their eyes locked together as the world explodes and crumbles around us, as if they were the only two people in the room—in the universe.
“So let me do this last thing for you—for our fated mates.” He lets his hands fall from her shoulders, even as Louise slowly shakes her head.
He crosses his hands over his chest, reaching once again for the trusty guns in his shoulder holsters.
“I have your backs, but I need you to run like hell.”
“No,” Louise answers flatly, shaking her head. “We can all make it out if you just?—”
But the moment has passed, and already dust and bits of plaster fly through the air as bullets find homes in the walls beside us.
“Move!” Quentin yells from behind as he and Caz explode toward the entrance to the Rotunda, Seb already halfway across the debris-strewn marble floor.
Before I can grab ahold of her, Louise springs forward and traps Frank's mouth in a deep kiss, biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood—to seal the mating bond.
Joyous surprise flashes in Frank’s eyes for a split second before he cups her face, guns still clutched in his hands—and returns her bite, his pearly canines piercing through her bottom lip on the left side.
As quickly as they've joined together, Frank shoves Louise into my arms and grins, mouth bloody as he disappears down the hall—picking off Windmill minions as he goes.
I lift the hysterical Louise into the air, dragging her kicking and screaming as I follow the other Saints to safety.
Chapter 27
Louise
As soon as the mating bond bite begins to take hold, I begin slipping into something between a dream and a fugue state.
I see Frank, no—Francis, younger than I’ve ever seen him in memory. He’s just about 16 and snooping through a heavy manila envelope on his father’s nightstand, purloining a tiny plastic baggie of white tablets marked with tiny blue stars.
Fast forward to young Francis in the hospital—his father calling in all sorts of favors; disappearing from the hospital for hours on end while Francis drops in and out of consciousness.
After only god knows how long, a crazed-looking Patrick Castle arrives at the hospital; reappearing with a mysterious syringe that seems to help Frank recover.
In the hospital, the two of them play chess on the plastic table that extends over Francis’ motorized mattress, Patrick easily beating his son in every round they play.
