Page 59 of The Heir
Helena scurries behind a group of medics who roll Melnyk onto a traveling gurney and load him into another armored vehicle. It looks like a repurposed ambulance. I can already hear her bickering with his care team. That puts a tiny smile on my face, but it quickly melts as The Eligos's men strap me into a seat bolted to the sidewall.
"Our apologies for the abrupt departure. We find it to be safer." The thin man nods curtly. "You may call me Elliott."
"Okay, Elliott," I reply weakly. "What's happening to Melnyk? Is Helena staying with him? Where are we all going?"
"His care will continue with an elite team. Yes, the other woman may stay with him. We are going to asafehouse. What else may I answer for you?" He talks to me, but his eyes focus on the tablet. He types with fervor after strapping himself in.
"How long did The Eligos have eyes on us?" Dante interrupts. His brow is furrowed with barely contained anger. Weirdly, the heat between my legs flares to life. He'shotwhen he's pissed. "Why did it take her this long to send a crew? Why did she not storm the prison compound?"
Elliott clicks the tablet screen off and gives Dante his full attention. "We regained surveillance when you broke out. She—and her analytics teams—have been working around the clock to decipher exactly where you came from. The Beacon had rudimentary blocks on her systems, but they have been breached. We sincerely apologize for the delay in assistance."
It's so fucking weird to me that he's using all these business-y terms when we were literally trapped in a goddamn decommissioned prison. I assume. I don't even know how long we were there.
"How long were we gone?" I whisper.
"Ah. You disappeared for nearly twelve weeks. A little under three months."
"Threemonths?"I gasp. My pulse roars in my ears, and sweat breaks out on my brow. I can't keep my hands still—they twist and turn, grabbing at the hem of this stupid gray T-shirt. My thumbnail rips a tiny hole in thefabric. I can't stop myself from tearing it more. "Three fucking months?"
"Again, we do apologize for the delay in assistance." He sighs. "It was a large undertaking. There is a whole world out there, and the Seraph has wings everywhere—as you may have heard."
"That we have," Dante grunts. "Three months. Fuck."
"Fuck, indeed. I'd also like to extend my—and The Eligos's—condolences on the loss and betrayal of Roman. I seem to recall him being a bit… prickly, shall we say? This was during the investigation of your office manager's death. Perhaps it was naïve of me, but at the time, I chalked it up to emotional upset." Elliott shrugs. "You seemed to trust him. Now, in regard to your current status—there are four of you in our custody, correct? Meaning you lost two?"
An icy shard of guilt stabs me through the heart. I didn't kill Nihil—of course, I didn't. But Forge is all on me. I can't believe I let his memory slip from my mind. Nausea bubbles in my gut.
"We did," Dante replies gruffly. "Unavoidable."
"Mm. Am I to understand that your wife will not be a threat to the safety of our associates?" Elliott gives me a hard look, and I feel a lump lodge in my throat.
"Not unless she needs to be." My husband's tone is harsh, and his words rattle around in my bones. I stillcan't… quite believe that he still loves me. After what I did, I mean. And—he's happy? He's happy we're going to have a baby—no, two babies?
He wasn't lying?
"You weren't lying?" I whisper, looking at Dante's snarling face through bleary tears.
"Of course not, but lying about what?" The speed at which he changes from intimidating to compassionate gives me a little whiplash.
"When you said… when you said youwanteda legacy with my, um, issues?"
"Oh, my love. Oh, my darling love. No. I was not lying. You're vicious, you're lethal, and you're all mine. And I swear to you, sweet love, that when this is all over? I'm building a life with you. I'm building ourlegacywith both of us at the helm. Promise me, love. Promise me you understand." He grips my hand with a gentle touch. The rich black of his tattoos swallows the pale, ashen gray of my sun-deprived skin.
My gorgeous man.
My Grim Reaper.
"I promise," I whisper. My stomach isn't quite settled, but it's much easier to swallow. Tears trickle down my cheeks, but he quickly swipes them away. "But… what if Helena hates me?"
"Then she's dead." He shrugs. "I know she's your friend, but if she ever disrespects you like that? I nearlylost you once—hell, I did lose you—due to my employee's hatred and betrayal. I will not make that mistake again."
"You can't do that!" I squeak. "You can't—I don't care if she hates me, you can't kill her!"
"Then her employment would be terminated."
"With abigseverance payout." I glare at him, but I'm sure I don't look as menacing as I want. Sobbing with pregnancy hormones—and, like, everything else that's happened—does that to a woman.
He sighs. "If that's what you want, love."
