Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(137)

I bowed over him, whispering in his ear, “My name is Tess Mercer. I’m no longer weak or afraid or broken. I’ve taken control of my fate. I no longer need a tower or dark angels or help. I am fear. And I take your soul in penance for everything that was done to me. I take it for the women you’ve raped. I take it for the women you’ve sold. I take it for my master, soul-mate, and husband. I take you for me.”

Pressing the gun against his forehead, I locked eyes with his chaotic gaze. He begged me silently. He pleaded wordlessly. And no compassion filled me.

I hope you burn forever.

Trigger. Sulphur. Bullet.

He was dead.

No one moved or spoke as I rose gracefully from the puddle of blood, standing over the soulless corpse. I was a phoenix glowing bright with power. I took back everything that’d been stolen.

I didn’t find the old Tess. She was gone. But in her place stood a new Tess. A woman who no longer feared. I’d looked evil in the eye and won. I’d been reborn in blood.

Franco shuffled forward, gently prying my fingers from the gun. “Tess—are you okay?”

His voice cut through my silence inside, reminding me I’d taken one life, now it was time to mourn another.

Turning to Q, I wasn’t strong enough to fight the swell of grief this time.

Q hung there—his stomach didn’t rise with breath, his dark hair glistening with wetness. He was gone and it was time to smother my pointless hope and accept. “Cut him down.”

The team of men did as I asked, obeying my every command. A pulley in the wall dropped Q’s body to a height where a knife could be sliced through the rope around his ankles. Two men caught him. Franco collected his legs and in a sombre ceremony they carried him from the dungeon. They carried my reason for existing back into the sunlight.

I trailed behind, smearing Lynx’s blood between my fingers like a talisman. The emptiness inside rapidly filled with churning waves of sadness. My heartbeats were heavy and loud—gonging with every step.

One beat.

Two beats.

I focused on staying strong. I had to. Q was gone.

Once upstairs, the men placed Q on a couch in a small conservatory. It was the only room that looked peaceful with plants rather than stripper poles.

I allowed the men to untie him—unwrapping his ankles, freeing his arms. I kneeled on the floor by his head, never taking my gaze from his white face. His eyes remained closed, lips slightly parted.

The waves inside splashed against my crumbling self-control. The first tear escaped my control, sliding down my cheek.

Franco disappeared. He came back with a blue blanket draping it over Q’s nakedness.

He’s dead.

No matter how much I told myself, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. If I did it meant my life was over. Forever. I would remain alone.

Hope—that bastardly emotion—wouldn’t let me go.

He doesn’t feel dead.

He’s not gone. He can’t be gone.

The cord linking our souls together wasn’t completely sundered. Or was I believing my own lies? Numbing myself to the truth?

Q please. Don’t leave.

The first wave broke my iron control, sending a torrent of tears up my spine.

I cupped Q’s cheek. I froze.

He was clammy. Not cold.

Hope took over my waves of tears, building a wall of wishes.

“Franco…” I looked up, begging him to confirm.

Franco hovered over me, his body seizing with injury. He lowered his good hand beneath Q’s nostrils. Ducking beneath his arm, I pressed my ear against Q’s damp chest, willing a heartbeat to thud.

My ear grew warm as I pressed harder, throbbing with the need to hear the fundamental part of him thrum.

Moments ticked past while we listened and waited.

Then my hope was confirmed.

Franco and I jerked back together. Our eyes met, wide with awe. “He’s breathing,” Franco said. I blurted, “His heartbeat is faint but it’s there.”

The churning waves vanished, leaving me with frantic calm. “Someone get more blankets. Water. Call an ambulance.” I pressed my ear to Q’s chest again, needing to hear.

Thud…thud…

You’re going to be okay.

Q’s unconscious form became the hub of commotion. Men dashed around, delivering blankets, first aid kits, and water.

I didn’t move from Q’s side. With gentle fingertips, I traced his cheekbones, whispering over his lips. “You’re safe. Wake up. Please wake up.”

Tears breached my eyelashes, dripping over my cheeks. But these were hopeful tears rather than heavy with grief. My body remembered how to feel, thawing the ice in my blood, bringing me up from the darkness and back into the sunshine. “Q—please.”

Kneeling higher, I pressed my lips to his. In my mind I tasted his agony—the torture he’d endured. I licked away his screams, letting him know we’d come for him.

We weren’t too late.

I’m here.

My body began to quake, exceeding any Richter scale as I filled with shaking gratefulness.

I kissed him again. Hard and fierce.

He didn’t move but something shifted in my heart. I knew he’d heard me—sensed me. An awareness gathered in the space as Q clawed his way from unconsciousness, fighting to return.