Page 69 of The Heir
"You guys are perfect for each other. Disgusting but perfect," Helena scoffs. "Get me out of these fucking cuffs."
Right. The zip ties. I toss the gun to the side and dig the scalpel and blades from my pocket. Ripping open the little foil package is harder than I'd like, and I can't quite figure out how to use it effectively. Not without slicing my own fingers, that is. Fuck, I'm glad that man is dead. Shooting me in the arm—the bastard.
"Gimme that," Melody commands. She snatches the scalpel handle and another blade packet from me. She carefully peels the foil down on one side, then expertly slides the blade onto the groove.
"How do you—" I start to ask.
"—my mom was a nurse," Melody interrupts me with a shrug. "You pick things up."
"Great, awesome, love that. Get me thefuckuntied," Helena snarls. "We have to get back to Melnyk!"
Guilt squeezes the breath from my lungs. Right. Melnyk. I was so singularly focused on my wife and our babies, I forgot about him entirely. Melody saws at theplastic zip ties until theysnapapart, and Helena rotates her arms with a sigh of relief.
"Get back to the medical wing," I instruct her. "They're in a bomb shelter. There's a hatch in the floor—it blends perfectly with the tile. Melody, go with her. I need to take care of the rest."
"Like fuck you're going without me," Melody snaps. "You can't use your arm. Phil's here. Ella is after me. This isn't just about you!"
"You're pregnant with my twins!" I roar. "Melody, I love you, but you're fucking insane if you think I'm going to putall three of youin harm's way. Get to the bomb shelter.Now."
"Come on, babe, let's go—" Helena tries to urge, but Melody shakes her off.
"No. Ella needs to die. Dante, youpromisedme you'd let me do it. After this—after all this, I need to. I need to see her dead. I need to watch her die. I need to know she's dead, and she's never coming back." Her voice is lethally calm and even, which scares me more than her frantic energy. "How are you going to shoot them? Hope you take them by surprise so you can aim a rifle with one hand? No. You need me."
"Fuck," I grunt. I hate to say it, but she's right. My arm is useless. The throbbing pain is slowly morphing into a burning sensation. That can't be good. "Fine.Fine. Helena, back to Melnyk. Melody, you're with me."
My wife giggles gleefully and snatches up the discarded guns. She pops the magazine from Phil's rifle and stuffs it in her pocket. "Just in case."
"You're beautiful when you're murderous," I muse.
"And you're sexy as hell when you're shooting a man point-blank." My wife's smile lights up my heart with a blaze. "Let's go."
Melody
Dante keeps hissing and wincing in pain, blood oozing down his arm. After convincing him to turn back for just a second—just a literal minute, really—to steal a strip of fabric from the dead soldiers, I fashion a tourniquet and tie it around his arm. The blood seeps into the sweaty fabric. Hopefully, The Eligos's medical team is still alive. I shudder. Fuck, I hope that bomb shelter is safe.
Silently,we creep through the jungle and watch for any movement. It's unsettlingly still. No planes or helicopters overhead, no drones, no radio chatter. Now that I think about it, the soldiers didn't have radios visible. It's possible there was something in their helmets, but I didn't care to fully undress the dead men.
Well, not right now.
If we were back in the basement in Philly, all bets would be off. Of course, I wouldn't prefer to justshootthem in the basement. Where's the artistry?
I stop in my tracks. Holy shit, I might bereallyfucked up.
"You alright, love? Morning sickness? Any aches or pains?" Dante lovingly asks.
"No—I mean, yes, I'm fine. I was just… I don't know. Thinking about how you let me use the basement back home. Remember the first time we killed someone together?"
"When I discovered exactly how ravishing you are in red? Why, yes. I do remember that. Vividly." He arches an eyebrow with a smirk.
A giggle bursts from my lips. "We're so fucked."
"I prefer the term, 'passionate.'" A twig snaps in the distance, and Dante falls silent, scanning the trees around us. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he hisses, "Did you hear that?"
I nod without a word. There's nothing more frustrating than trying to listen intently, but your stupid fucking pulse rushes in your ears like ocean waves. My lungs constrict, choking the breath from me. She has to be here. There's no way she sent four men and some bombs. There's just no way. There has to be more—and with her obsessive hatred of me?
She has to be here. I just hope I can get the drop on her before she gets the drop on me.
My hands break out in panicked sweat, and the rifles slip in my grip. Two people, three guns. That's at least better odds than two people and no guns. The enormity of our situation hits me like a freight train. We really are fucked unless Ella just happens to be gallivanting around the forest completely unarmed. And unaccompanied.
