Somehow, Warren barely reacted, clearly running on nothing but adrenaline. As soon as he hit the ground, he snapped up the knife the second attacker had dropped and plunged it into the incapacitated man’s throat.

And then Kate made a mistake of her own. She cried out at the sight of Warren murdering the second man, realising too late that the first attacker’s attention was no longer on Warren, but onher.

“Run!” Warren bellowed, attempting to get back onto his feet—hisfoot, his snapped calfswayingas he moved.

Filled with adrenaline and terror, Kate ran with every ounce of energy she possessed. Tree branches whipped past her, occasionally snatching at her hair. Chancing a look back, Kate was propelled forward with a start of fear at the sight of the man racing behind her, getting closer with every step. Her chest heaved, a stitch carving its way into her side.

A whimper left her when she broke through the treeline, faced with a gentle meadow—and nowhere to hide. Without pausing, she—

Kate cried out as the man tackled her to the ground, forcing the air from her lungs. She gasped, trying to scream for help, but he wrenched her onto her back, wrapping his hands around her neck, pressing into her with such pressure that she was afraid he’d snap her spine. His knee compounded the pain, digging into her ribs.

Her legs kicked uselessly, achieving nothing but thudding her heels into the earth. Her eyes watered, tears streaming into her hairline. Kate desperately tried to suck in air, a thin, reedy sound escaping from her throat.

Fading. Everything was fading, from the pain to her fear. The nothingness grew, lulling her towards the darkness that would never end. Hadn’t she wanted this?

Just as her eyes began to dim, the man’s body shuddered, his eyes widening, his pupils dilating. Blood began to drip from his open mouth. Slowly at first, but then the flow gathered speed, until a continuous stream landed on her chest. Was he… drooling blood?

Inside his mouth, something sparkled silver in the sunlight. Something beautiful.

The crushing grip around her throat loosened in minute increments. Kate pulled a deep, painful breath into her lungs, and then another. With every inhale, her surroundings began to return. Sunlight. The meadow. The trees. The pain around her neck.

Warren, standing behind the attacker with a grim, satisfied smile. The attacker’s lips sagged open. The flow of blood had turned into a river, and on top of his tongue sat the tip of the blade that Warren had plunged through the back of his head.

“If you had given both the Charltons and the evidence to the police, this would have never happened!” Aldous bellowed, shooting Kate a furious glance. She shrunk into the sofa, not having the energy to fight back. Not today. Every word was a painful rasp, so she settled for a glare in his direction.

“The same police with a history of accepting bribes from Paul Charlton?” Warren went to stand in front of her, resting his hand on her shoulder as it butted up against his leg. A barrier from Aldous. She resisted the temptation to lean into his side, her brain whirring back into action.

Where had her father gotten the money to bribe the police from?

Aldous laughed at that. “Yes! It’s what Charlton deserves.” He glared down at Kate as though expecting her to defend her father.

“And what I deserve is to have Paul Charlton and William Graves locked in my cellar,” Warren rasped furiously, “screaming for fucking mercy.”

“Sadistic prick,” Aldous shook his head with a grimace.

Kate’s head turned when Braxton entered the room, as formidable as ever, having been given the task of moving her father—and the two corpses—to some nameless location. It had been the second thing Warren had shouted on carrying her back into the house—the first being to get her medical attention.

She had been looked over, poked and prodded by a doctor. A private one, she assumed, given that he’d been summoned to the house with nothing but a phone call and made no suggestion of calling the police. Broken blood vessels hid underneath her eyelids, whilst her neck was a network of bruises and scratches, the latter being self-inflicted in her desperate attempt to get the attacker off of her. Not that Kate remembered that bit.

“Can you blame me?” Warren retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aldous’s nostrils flared as he delved his hand into his hair. “I blame you for being a prick. The rest is excusable.”

Leaning against the doorjamb, Rhys snorted at his younger brother. “Are we ready? I want to get going before rush hour.”

Warren nodded, lending Kate an encouraging smile. “We’re going to stay with Rhys for a bit.” He touched her shoulder kindly. “For safety reasons.”

Kate nodded, perplexed by the fact that Warren waswalking. Had she simply imagined his snapped leg? Shehadbeen deprived of oxygen, after all.

Rhys pursed his lips to the side. “And I won’t dress you up like a roadman.”

Jensen’s dark eyebrow quirked up. “Awhat?”

Rhys shared a private smirk with Kate, helping her to her feet. “Jensen’s exceedingly old,” Rhys muttered into her ear, slinking an arm around her shoulders in a surprisingly brotherly embrace. He steered her towards the front door, gently supporting her across the smooth tiles. A third pair of footsteps shadowed them. Familiar ones. “You’ll have to excuse him.”

“I heard that, you prick,” Jensen’s Scottish accent rang out after them.

“I’m not surprised. Did you know ears tend to get bigger as you age?”