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“They’re coming for her.”
“Who, David?” I snap, looking up at Mrs. Chambers’s worried eyes. She doesn’t need to say anything for me to know he’s about to die, because I’ve seen death so many times, in so many different ways, that it will never come as a surprise to me again.
He tries to say something, but he dissolves into a coughing fit, more and more blood pouring from his mouth. His time is coming to an end. Any second now, he’s going to die, and not only will I have lost the only person who knows distribution like the back of his hand, I’m no closer to figuring out who is coming for us.
When David’s body stops straining to cough and his head lulls to the side, there’s a moment of eerie silence. It’s been the same in every death I’ve experienced, as if time slows down ever so slightly and the outside world quietens for just a second as death takes his latest victim.
“He’s dead,” Mrs. Chambers says quietly. She collects the cotton pads she was using and carefully pushes herself to her feet. For such an innocent-looking woman, she doesn’t flinch at the sight of death, and for that I admire her. She could just as easily pass out, or start panicking, but instead she takes it in her stride and gets on with it.
Fifteen minutes later, a knock at the door drags my attention away from the dead body in my hallway. Mrs. Chambers cleaned him up as much as she could, and I’ve called the cleaner, but there’s nothing else I can do but wait.
I reach for the knob and open the door to find Storm and Everett standing on my stoop. Their eyes both narrow on the dead man in the entry and collectively sigh.
“What the fuck happened?” Storm asks, closing the door and surveying the scene in front of him.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “But he said that someone is coming for Snow.”
“Who?” Everett kneels beside the body and carefully turns David’s head from side to side, like all the answers to our questions can be found on the body.
“He didn’t say. He died before he could give me anything more than, ‘they’re coming for her.’”
Repeating the words leaves a sick feeling in my stomach, because the idea that anyone could be hunting Snow, that someone could try to take her away from me again… it’s unacceptable. I can’t allow any more harm to come to her.
Storm nods, his eyes flicking to Everett’s and then back to me. “Why don’t you and Snow come to the estate for a few nights? It’s safer there, more security, panic rooms. I’m sure you’ll feel better having her somewhere safe.”
“She’s safe here,” I growl.
Everett sighs, pushing himself to his feet. “That may be so, but your security relies on people. The estate doesn’t. Not anymore. We don’t know who we can trust right now, and I have to agree with Storm. You would both be safer there.”
I close my eyes as I breathe through the rising anger. As much as I want to be selfish, for once, I can’t. This isn’t like when I stole her away from her life and her family, or when I forced her to marry me, or when I refused to use birth control. All of those things made me a selfish bastard, but for once, I have to put someone else’s needs ahead of my own.
“She needs to go with you,” I murmur.
“You can come too?” Storm’s eyes narrow. “I know we’ve had our share of issues, but we’re family now. The estate is open to you if you need it.”
I shake my head. “No, I have to stay here. If I go with you, it will look like we’re hiding behind the big gates. You need to take Snow and keep her safe until this is all over.”
“How do you think she’s going to feel about that?” Everett asks.
“I don’t care. As long as she’s safe, she can hate me all she wants.”
59
Snow
Voices in the hallway carry through the house and pull me from my restless sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see a gun pointing in my face and immediately want to open them. But that’s not the worst of the nightmares.
Each time I close my eyes and my body relaxes enough to fall asleep, I dream of a future I could have had. Elijah running around with our kids while I’m sitting on the sidelines laughing at the big bad Mafia man playing so freely with his children. Somehow I know that’s the kind of dad he would be. I have nothing to base it on, especially seeing as he's so ruthless in every part of his life, why wouldn’t he approach parenthood the same way? But I know he would be soft and kind, and I’m sure one day he’ll find a woman who can give him that.
I roll over to face the window and tug a pillow over my head. The house has been deathly quiet for days. No one is brave enough to make a sound that might frighten me because they think Elijah will lose it, but I doubt that’s the case. He’s just counting down the days until I’m well enough to send back to the estate. He hasn’t touched me since we’ve been home. Each night he sleeps in the armchair beside the bed, saying he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt me in my sleep. But I see right through his farce.
A gentle hand runs up my bare arm, and I pretend to be asleep. I don’t want to deal with whatever they’ve come in here for, so maybe if they believe I’m getting some much-needed sleep, they’ll leave me alone. But my hopes are taken away a moment later when the pillow is gently lifted from my head.
“Snow?” Elijah says softly.
“Go away,” I murmur, attempting to turn away from him, but his hand comes out to rest on my shoulder, holding me so I can’t escape.
He chuckles quietly. “I need you to get up, Snowflake. Storm and Everett are here, I need you to go back to the estate with them where you’ll be safe.”
