“He took Cohen, Iris, and Maddox.”
I wait, but the list stops there. “Last time, he had people on the street.”
“Last time was different.” Gabriel tightens his grip on the wheel. He favors their father’s coloring the same way Abel does—dark hair, dark eyes—though his build is leaner. “It’s just them this time.”
“Fuck.” I brace my arm against the doorframe as we take another corner. We’re at the east entrance to Old Town, but Gabriel doesn’t stop there. He rounds the block and takes the street that runs parallel. I recognize where we’re headed a few moments before Gabriel slams to a stop near the dead end in the center of Old Town that houses the food trucks.
This is where Abel will meet with Chinh and the others.
It’s also where I would set up the ambush if I were Marie.
The years peel away, and I’m twenty-eight, sprinting through the streets with Bauer’s blood on my hands, seeing the haze of fire against the night sky and knowing that I’m already too late. I didn’t reach the house in time that night.
I have to reach Abel in time today.
I barely wait for the truck to stop before I throw open the door and jump out. Gabriel is right on my heels. I have the thought that he’s making sure I don’t escape or some shit, but it doesn’t matter as long as he stays close. It’s not until I’m squeezing through the gap between one of the food trucks and the wall that I realize a gun would be really useful right now. I have no weapon, nothing but my body and my words.
It will have to be enough.
But as I hear voices raised in anger and fear, I already know it won’t be. Too late. Too late. I am always too fucking late.
Gabriel and I burst out from behind the food trucks and into chaos. A shot sounds somewhere close, and the midday crowd of Old Town scatters. Some people duck into businesses. Some hunch over against the walls as if that will do a damn thing to protect them from a shooter.
We sprint for the knot of people in the middle of the tables. I catch sight of Chinh being bodily carried away by two of his grandsons, and then I see Abel, Cohen, and the others.
Time seems to slow down between one step and the next. I register things in flashes. Abel’s clenched jaw. The woman standing in front of him, her dark hair shining in the sunlight. The gun in her hand. So unassuming, almost boring, and yet representing the end of my and Harlow’s chance at happiness.
A mere ten feet separate them.
Marie will go for a body shot. She’s got a sadistic streak, and she’ll want to slow down Cohen and the others. Either to pick them off or to get away.
She’s going to shoot Abel.
I pour on the speed. I hear Gabriel curse behind me as he gets knocked off-course by a pair of men running in the opposite direction, and it’s just as well. This will all be over shortly.
Fuck, I should have apologized to Harlow earlier. I should have tracked Abel down and told him the truth the second I realized he didn’t die in that fire, instead of letting the years spin out between us. I should have done a lot of things.
Five feet between us now.
Abel catches sight of me, and the look on his face is horrible. I expect resignation or anger, but he looks fucking terrified. Not for himself. Of course the bastard is never worried about himself. His mouth moves and I might not be able to hear the words through the rushing in my ears, but I can read his lips well enough.
Eli, stop!
No. Fuck that. Fuck that.
I mourned this man during the long hours it took to put out that fire the night of the coup. And then I spent eight eternally long years mourning him a second time. I can’t survive a third. I refuse to.
I wish we had more time.
I wish the three of us had all the time in the world.
It’s okay. Harlow and Abel will take care of each other. They’ll be okay. Better than okay. The knowledge gives me one last burst of speed.
Marie’s hand moves on the gun, her finger tightening on the trigger.
I throw myself forward with everything I have, covering the distance between Abel and me in one giant leap. I hit him in the chest as something hot and painful blossoms in my back.
A woman is screaming. Someone fires a gun, and the screaming stops.
None of it matters because Abel’s got his arms around me, and he’s lost that terrified look. No, now he’s fucking furious, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
He lowers me to the ground, which is a good thing because my legs don’t seem to be holding me all that well. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”