Page 25 of The Heir
"Yeah, I know. Stop it." She buries her face in my chest and lets out a slow exhale. "You're one man. One person. You can't fix everything, and you shouldn't have to."
"You're right, of course," I mumble and press my lips into her hair. She smells so good. Even with the sparse body care options, she just smells likeher.
"That's for me to do," she mumbles somewhere in my armpit. I huff out a chuckle and trail my fingers down her arm.
Melody
My eyes fly open to an ungodly early hour. 3:07 in the morning. My husband is fast asleep and stays that way (thankfully) as I extricate myself from his death grip.
Ella isn't here. She's probably not coming. The anxiety refuses to unclench my guts, though. Down the hall, I can hear muffled conversation betweenwhat sounds like Melnyk and Roman. Carefully sliding to the floor, I creep to the doorway and strain my ears to listen.
"I do not understand why you're so opposed. You saw what she can do." I think that's Melnyk, based on the accent.
"We risked our lives to get her out of the prison transport. I don't want that to be for nothing. Of course, I know she's capable; that's not in question. I just…." Roman trails off with a heavy sigh.
Well, that won't do. I'm not going to let these men just stand there and talk about me, postulate about my abilities. As quietly as possible, I slip into some sweatpants and gently pull the door open wider. It swings open silently, to my relief.
The hallway is empty, but I can hear them talking from one of the other bunk-rooms. Dorm rooms? I really don't know what to call them. Doesn't matter. What does matter, though, is the fact that I'm about to rock up and throw a grenade in their conversation. My irritation grows as I creep down the hall, listening intently.
"You just what, huh?" I kick open the door, and both men flinch. "You're annoyed that I get to put the bitch down. You're mad that I'mcapable.You're mad that I passed your stupid test."
"Wasn't my test, miss. That was your husband's." Roman sighs and rubs his temples. "My concerns aren't related to your abilities. My concerns are related towhat Ella has in store. I worry that she's biding her time, and when we make a move? She might have a goddamn Seraph army. You're a scary woman, I'll give you that, but youcan'tbeat an army."
"No. But I'm not alone, right? I would be the bait, yes, but all of you military men know your way around a gun. And I don't believe for a second that the rest of GoCon doesn't have mercenaries at their beck and call." I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. "Or are you implying that the Consortium wouldn't be involved?"
"Of course, they would be involved. Of course. But that's assuming we launch an all-out offensive instead of this little splinter cell, so to speak. Organizing takes time—time we might not have." Roman clenches his fist and slams it to the cinderblock wall with a furious grunt. "That's my goddamn problem, Melody. We don't know how much time we have. We don't knowanythingbut the fact that you're chomping at the bit to spray and pray."
"Spray and pray?! Oh, come on—" I squawk.
"Bad choice of words, I'm sorry," he interjects. "But the rest of my point stands. If we're going to do this, ifyou'regoing to do this, we need an actual plan."
"Fine. Let's make one." I stomp over to the bed and plop down on the edge. "What do you suggest?"
Melnyk and Roman exchange looks. Melnyk has a satisfied grin as he shrugs. "We could disseminate alittle news through the ranks. Let slip that you are in Virginia."
"But… I'm not?" I don't get it.
"Yet. But it is close to here. We could scout a location that would seem advantageous to Ella but position our men strategically."
Damn. Melnyk isn't just a sweetheart and great with a gun. I may not know much about all this, but it seems he's pretty tactically adept.
"We could have a few more snipers arrive within two days," Roman suggests with furrowed brow. "The Eligos has generously allowed us access to her weapons arsenal. That gives us more firepower—more options for you as well."
"Snipers, good. I think I saw some explosives, too." Melnyk paces around the room. "Establish perimeter. Position Mrs. Lyons. Ensure backup with snipers. Surround entry with remote-detonated explosive."
"Hide body armor under bulky clothes," Roman follows up. "Keep a rifle handy. Small handgun on her person. That would be the preferred method—rifle for backup, of course."
"Of course," Melnyk agrees.
I can't help but smile at the men in their element. Planning an attack, planning the death of Ella at my hands. It's poetic justice, really. That bitch is really going to die. But why does the thought spark atiny blaze in my core? And why does it burn brighter and brighter the more I think about the light leaving Ella's eyes?
Well, I know why. Because I'm honestly a little bit fucked up, but Dante matches my freak, and I justknowhe'll ravage me like he used to once Ella is dead. Maybe we'll make another baby.
My eyes widen at the thought. Fuck. Another baby. Wouldn't that just be perfect? Ella exits this world, and our child enters it—nine months later, of course. And that slithering dread is nowhere to be found. Am I really ready to try this again?
Yeah. Yeah, I am.
With joy in my heart and something far less wholesome in my core, I slip back into bed next to my husband. He stirs as the mattress dips under my weight. I quickly slide my arms around him and snuggle up, the big spoon to his little spoon.
