Page 63 of Graves & Griggs
I flick my gaze behind him. Dominic has Ryder in his arms now and is disappearing into the darkness once more.
“She said something before she died,” I say, piquing his curiosity.
Desmond frowns. “What did she say?”
My mind races with possibilities, outcomes and plan Bs for how to get myself and Seraphina out of this unharmed. We outnumber him clearly, but a bullet moves faster than a blade, and I don’t know what kind of shot, if any, anyone else has.
“This is all my brother’s fault.”
Desmond’s face contorts in shock for a moment, like he doesn’t fully process my words. Once he does, though, rage fills him.
A shadow moves behind him, and I’d recognize that slinky movement anywhere. He’s too far, though, so I make my move.
I raise my hand, gripping the cool metal of the knife’s handle before sending it sailing through the air. It spins beautifully, cutting through the heavy snow before sinking into his shoulder. But before the blade enters his skin, a loud pop sounds, and a sharp burning slices into me.
Looking down, I see a hole in my thigh before blood begins pouring out of it. Fuck. That shit hurts.
I look up to see Desmond point the gun at my head once more, a stolen breath escaping me as one of my boys calls out, “Close your eyes! It’s a scary part!”
Seraphina slams her eyes closed as Griggs draws up behind Desmond, gripping his jaw in one hand as he draws a blade across his neck. A spurt of crimson blood splatters the pure white snow before Desmond’s body collapses.
Vincent squats down beside the gargling body and turns his head to the side.
“Merry fucking Christmas.”
Epilogue
Blake
I’ve experienced a lot of traumatic events in my life. I’ve had more “scariest nights of my life” than any one person should. I will tell you, though, I’m not sure much will top running outside to see my children hurt on the ground, then one of my husbands shot, only to be narrowly saved by a fellow mercenary.
Yeah, you know what, I completely realize that our life is way more fucked up than I give credit for.
As the guys all ran outside to follow Zayden, they instructed Liam to stay back and “protect the girls and the young ones.” I actually feel bad for punching Liam in the face. Skyla told me not to, though, because she was about to do the same. When he was disoriented, we took off outside. How could we not have when we knew our babies were in trouble?
The gasp of horror Skyla let out when she saw her little girl held hostage with a gun to her head was something I felt all the way into my gut. It was followed up by seeing my own boys hurt, a wave of pain and panic only a parent could truly know.
Dominic scooped the boys up seamlessly, dragging them to safety, but that still left Seraphina in harm’s way. Despite Wesleyset up on the lower roof with a sniper pointed at Desmond Volkov’s head, no one moved a muscle. Not even when Desmond shot Zayden; not when he lined up for a kill shot.
The instant Vincent cut Volkov’s throat, Skyla and I took off for our babies. We couldn’t be stopped, and no one even attempted to do so. Seraphina kept her eyes closed the whole time, sobbing hysterically even as Skyla wrapped her arms around her, shushing her gently. Still, though, she didn’t open her eyes until Aries and Ryder came running over, both insisting that it was safe.
I asked Ryder what he meant about Seraphina closing her eyes for the scary part, and he explained to me that they’d started watching horror movies with Liam when everyone else wasn’t around, something that absolved my guilt of punching him rather quickly. Seraphina apparently tried to be brave but would get too scared at certain parts, so one of the boys would tell her when to close her eyes for a scary scene, and when she could open them again.
It’s still amazing to me how quickly the kids bonded. It’s been a little over a week, but it may as well have been a lifetime that they’ve all known each other. Seraphina made each of them friendship bracelets with their names spelled out in beads for Christmas, and Ryder drew her a picture of herself while Aries carved a heart out of a chunk of wood. Don’t ask me where he got the knife or how he learned to carve wood, though it doesn’t take too many guesses to figure it out.
Despite the… eventful Christmas Eve we all had, we were able to get the kids to sleep while some of the guys took care of Zayden’s bullet wound. They even had a whole IV set up at the ready with extra bags of O-. At least we aren’t the only fucked-up family with insane day-to-day lives.
The little ones had no idea what happened, and we tried to keep it that way. The excitement of Christmas haddefinitely turned somber, but I think the gratitude of us all being alive and together helped repair that.
A feeling of relief I hadn’t known I needed washed over me as I lay in bed with my boys, all four of them, the next night. I refused to let the twins go back to their own room, insistent on watching them all night. Same with my husbands.
Now it’s the next day, though, and our bags are packed, and our car is ready. We’re heading home to Seattle, just as planned, only one day behind. We’re all more than ready to be home, and yet a bitterness follows our departure. I can’t stop crying, and though I’m chalking up ninety-five percent of it to hormones, I know a piece of me will miss them all.
The boys are going back and forth hugging Seraphina, pulling her out of each other’s arms one after another, and it breaks my heart. They promise to come visit soon, and Seraphina says the same. I have no doubt that if we don’t plan something ourselves, we’ll wake up in the middle of the night to their beds empty and a car gone. Six years old or not, they’re their fathers’ sons.
“Blake,” Skyla says with a watery smile.
I give her one in return as she pulls me in for a hug.
