Spiders in the Grove (In the Company of Killers #7)(41)

“Grab him!” Joaquin orders the guards in Spanish, and nine rush onto the stage and barrel toward Leo like a stampede.

Leo doesn’t care about any of them; he pulls a trembling Naeva into his arms, shielding her with his body; he knows he’s not getting out of this alive, wounded and with nine guns pointed at him.

“I missed you so much,” he tells Naeva, his voice choking with emotion; he grabs her face in his hands, peers into her eyes, and my heart is breaking into a million goddamn pieces. “?Escúchame!”—he wrenches her face in emphasis, and then continues in Spanish—"No matter what happens here tonight, know that I am with you; I won’t leave you again, not even in death—you hear me?”—he shakes her—“not even in death.”

Before Naeva can say anything, before she can kiss his lips, guards are ripping Leo and Naeva apart.

“No! Don’t hurt him! I’ll do anything! Please don’t hurt him!”

Despite the gunshot wound to the shoulder, Leo still manages to land three bone-cracking punches to one guard; two more to another; a third guard moves around behind Leo, grabs his arms and pulls them backward; the back of Leo’s head smashes into the guard’s face, and the guard stumbles back, his hand covering his bleeding nose.

Five more guards rush Leo, but it’s only the gun in Joaquin’s hand, pointed at Naeva that stops him.

“Just kill me, you sonofabitch!” Naeva screams. “Give Leo back his freedom, and do what you want with me!”

“Oh, now you want him to have his freedom,” Joaquin taunts; he moves in a careful half-circle so that he can face the stunned, wide-eyed crowd, the gun still pointed at Naeva sitting on the stage floor. “Now she wants Moreno to have his freedom!” he repeats for the audience.

A round of laughter makes its way around the room; Cesara joins in. I glance over at her standing next to me—almost everyone is standing now so they can see over the heads of the people in front of them—and the enjoyment in her face disgusts me. Cesara may have been like me once upon a time, she may have endured the same horrors, and came out stronger on the other side because of them, but she and I are two very different people, who went in entirely different directions.

Joaquin looks down at Naeva.

“He gave up his freedom a long time ago, Miss Brun,” he says grimly, “for you. You should never have come back here”—he gestures a hand at the crowd, seeking their praise—“Moreno isn’t the man he used to be! He isn’t the fighter he used to be! And his services are no longer needed!”

The crowd claps; heads nod; voices rise up all around me, most of them agreeing with Joaquin, or, at the very least, just wanting to see bloodshed.

Joaquin makes a motion with his head at the guard standing nearest Naeva, and the guard grabs her by her arms and lifts her from the floor.

“Don’t touch her!” Leo barks; his breathing is labored; blood is running down his arm and chest; he’s beginning to show signs of distress from his wound.

“I’m going to do more than touch her,” Joaquin tells him with satisfaction. “I’m going to show my buyers what happens to runaways”—he gets closer to Leo—“and thieves.”

No… He’s going to kill them both, right there on the stage; he’s going to set an example with Naeva who ran away, and Leo who they say ‘stole’ her from them.

“I’m so sorry, Leo,” Naeva cries.

“Don’t be sorry—don’t you ever be sorry,” he tells her.

Joaquin and the guard holding Naeva nod at one another, and the guard raises a gun to Naeva’s head.

No…

My eyes dart around the room frantically. What am I looking for? Someone to burst in here any second and save them? And although I know that’s not going to happen, I look anyway, desperately hoping that I’m wrong. And in the small fraction of a moment that feels longer than it is, I see Dante leaning forward, his hands braced upon his knees, and he’s vomiting onto the floor. I see Frances Lockhart…she’s walking, almost sprinting, toward the stage. Stop, Frances! Don’t do it! Don’t do it, or you’ll die with them! And I feel Sabine’s hands gripping my leg; the tips of her fingers digging into my skin.

The guard cocks the gun, and in slow-motion I see his finger sliding toward the trigger; I see Naeva’s eyes closing, tears streaming down her face. I see Joaquin’s finger dancing on the trigger of the gun pointed at Leo; I see Leo’s eyes wide open, unafraid; he’s trying to console Naeva; his lips are moving, but I cannot make out the words. I love you always, Naeva. Through life, and in death, I love you. Those are the words I imagine him saying; those are the words his beautiful face reads.

“STOOOOOP!!!”

My voice carries stridently over the crowd like the aftershock of a whip, and every eye in the room is on me.





Izabel


“Stop,” I repeat, calmer, but with resolve.

“What the fuck are you doing, Lydia?” Cesara hisses behind me.

Ignoring her, I make my way toward the stage, and the crowd parts for me. Sabine tries to follow, but I push her back with my hand.

Naeva’s eyes follow me, but they’re all she dares to move. I look at her once, briefly, long enough to let her know that I refuse to let them die.