Page 142 of Villain Era

“But I thought…”

“You thought wrong.” Beckett yanks out one of his guns and checks the chamber. “I love her more than anything, but that means I can’t be selfish with her.” He holds out his hand. “Give me that switchblade.”

I pull it out of my pocket and he snatches it from my hand, taking off along the exterior of the house and peering into the windows.

I rush to catch up and get my head back into the game. I never expected him to saythat. To put what he assumes are her desires over his. Doesn't he realize that he's the better man? That she should be with him instead of me? He just proved it when he said he was willing to risk his life instead of mine. A man that he hates more than anything. He would put his life on the line to give me a chance with her instead of him.

I can’t even tell her the truth and here he is, ready to die to allow another man to be with her.

“There.” Beckett points through a window. “There she is.” He runs away before I can say another word, darting around the side of the house.

He shimmies the door handle and makes a cupping motion like he’s holding something and then throws it. His way of telling me to follow through with the plan, and because he isn’t wasting any more time, there’s nothing I can do but go along with it.

Beckett nods and gives me the go ahead, the door creaking open with his grip on it.

I jerk the pin out of the grenade, running back in the direction we came, holding onto it for far too fucking long before using every ounce of strength I have to throw it as far as I can. It explodes a second after I release it and I dive into the ground to avoid the brunt of the explosion. Part of the stone structure shatters around me, pieces of it falling to the ground and hitting me. Talk about a fucking distraction, I blew a hole in the second story of the fucking house.

I scramble to my feet and sprint toward where I left Beckett. Bursting through the door, I run in the direction I can only assume they’re in and spot him there, kneeling at June’s side, the knife in his grasp frantically cutting through the binds that hold her to the chair.

Her gaze trails up to lock onto mine, and for a split record, I think all of this is going to work out. But when I catch movement in my peripheral and turn to find Gwyneth Sharp pointing a gun at Simon fucking Beckett, I do the only thing I can think of.

I run. I push my legs harder than they ever have been pushed and dive to shove him and June out of the way. The shot rings out and fear washes through me. Fear that I didn’t make it in time. Fear that I did the wrong thing. Fear that I only put June in more danger.

But when I blink down at my chest and see the blood pooling from the wound, I realize that one part of this plan worked. The man June loves is safe—but that man is not me.

And that is a reality I will take into the next lifetime. Because as much turmoil I caused her, the pain and torment and heartache, at least I could have given her that.

My redemption.

Trading my life for Simon Becketts.

31

JUNE

"No, no, no," I blubber and drop to my knees, the hard surface slicing them to shreds but I don't care. Not when blood is oozing out of a wound in Coen's chest. "Damn it, Co. You do not get to leave me like this." I shove my hand onto the hole.

“J…” He mutters, red spattering out of his mouth. “I—I’m so, sorry.”

“No,” I cry. “Not like this, Coen. You don’t get to say sorry like this.” Tears roll down my cheeks, and I glance up to see Simon with his hands up, Gwyneth holding a gun toward him too.

"It wasn't supposed to be him," she tells me like it's somehow supposed to make me feel any fucking better. "It wasn't supposed to be any of them. It was supposed to be you." She jabs the gun at me but immediately trains it back on Simon when he inches toward her. "You can't waltz into this life and cause as much anarchy as you have. You don't get to have multiple boyfriends. That's notnatural.”

“You, you want me dead because, because ofthat? You fucking animal.” I shake my head. “You had me kidnapped and tortured because…”

How does any of this make sense? Why does it matter that I’m in a relationship with three different guys? I thought she was all about female empowerment and ruling this organization better than before. Or was that just a lie to get me to trust her? To let her weasel her way into my presence and give me the false sense of friendship to fuck with me even more.

“Co.” I hold him in my arms, blood coating the floor around us. “Please, just stay with me.” My teardrops fall onto his beautiful face. The face that I’ve kissed a million times. The face I never thought I’d see again when his dad drove him away. The face that changed and turned into something I no longer recognized days ago, but now the face that I cannot imagine never seeing again. “Co!” I sob. “Listen, we can get through this, okay? This shit we’ve been going through. We’ll make it work.” I nearly choke on my words. “I don’t know how, but you have to believe me. We’ll figure it out. You and me. Remember, it’s supposed to be us against the world. It used to be. It can be again. You just have to hold on a little longer.” I move my hand and blood gushes around it. I shove it back down. “I’m not done being mad at you yet, Co.”

Earlier today I considered walking away when this was all said and done. I wasn't sure if I could stay when they've done nothing but push me away. But Claire's words made me realize that this was never going to be easy. It wasn't for her and Johnny, and they're just two people. Why did I ever expect things wouldn't be this fucking hard? I should have never considered giving up, not when I still have so much fight left in me. I know Simon wants this. Magnus does. Dom needs to man up and make a choice about what he wants, but Coen, Coen just proved all my doubts wrong when he jumped in front of a bullet to save Simon Beckett.

His sworn enemy. The man who he hates more than anything. If Coen can change, maybe Dom can, too. And if that’s possible, maybe so is figuring out how to be together. All of us. Because I cannot live without any of these men. Not even Coen, the man who I had the most doubts about this morning.

When Coen had made that explosion, a few hunks of the ceiling rained down and distracted her long enough to give Simon a chance to cut the ropes holding me in place. It just wasn’t enough time to get us out of here before she realized it was a diversion. And if Coen hadn’t jumped in the way, it would easily be me or Simon bleeding out instead of him.

“Put the gun down, Gwyneth,” another person demands.

I blink through my tears to see Johnny Jones stepping through the door Simon and Coen had come from.

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