Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Twenty-Two

Isabella

I wake up to the sounds of furious yelling downstairs.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, it’s only a few minutes before sunrise, and I can see that the spot in bed beside me hasn’t been touched. I grab my pajamas and throw them on, hurrying down the hall to the top of the stairs.

Carter is in the living room, pacing and on a rampage. He is throwing his hands into the air, his voice rattling off the vaulted ceilings, and I wince at the sound of his familiar spite.

He has softened lately—for reasons I don’t fully understand—but I can see how he got his sternness back. Tristan, Lorenzo, and Nicolas are all lined up in the living room, where Carter yells at them like a damn drill sergeant.

I shiver at the sound and emit a slight gasp, and Carter’s eyes find me like magic.

“Dove, go back to bed.”

I dare to turn, to walk away, but my feet don’t want to move! “Carter, you’re yelling.”

“Then shut the door. I need to handle this, Bella. Please, just go back to bed.”

I don’t know why, but I look at Tristan and meet his gaze from my spot on the stairs. He gives me a short nod like he’s granting me permission to let him get his ass chewed out from the man I love, but as soon as the look passes between us, Carter has already tracked it.

The burning temper of this wildfire man isn’t done with any of us yet, including me.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Carter steps forward, his hand curling into Tristan’s shirt to yank his attention back to him, but Tristan wiggles out of it quickly. Carter’s rampage is far from over. “Who the fuck is in charge of this family again?”

“You are, Carter,” Tristan replies a bit begrudgingly. He gives me another glance. “Everything is fine, Isabella. We’ll try to keep it down for you, okay?”

I can see this exchange is only pushing Carter further and further down a deep hole, and I can’t leave them in the aftermath. Not like this. Things with Nicolas have already been rough for Carter, and there’s no saving Tristan from the mounting blame that Carter has been throwing his way lately.

They have been so close, so trusting of one another for so long that I don’t understand why they are being so hostile now. There’s a cold, taut thread between them that’s ready to snap at any moment.

Lorenzo is in the group, too, which is what I don’t understand. Last I knew, things were fine with him, but I’ve come to learn that the Blackthorne loyalty line can change at any given moment. Whatever happened tonight—or was said among these men—is now trickling into our living room.

And it’s not going away anytime soon.

I descend the staircase and come to Carter’s side. He looks unapproachable to most, especially with this stern scowl on his face, but it’s nothing I haven’t faced from him before. He stands straighter, like he’s trying to ignore me, but he crumbles and falls after a moment.

He melts after a quick press of my lips onto the hollow of his throat where I can reach. His arm crawls around my back, and I sink seamlessly into his side. His scent is strong, like his voice that woke me up, but he holds me loosely, kindly, and I know I’ve calmed him down by now.

“What is going on here, Carter? Why are you upset?”

He flicks his wrist, the men scattering to the kitchen—keeping their heads down in the process. “This isn’t a conversation for you to concern yourself with, dove. It’s complicated and stressful. I don’t want to bother you with it, okay?”

I can’t help but look back at the three men who once had a strong bond with my lover. Looking back at Carter, it’s clear that he’s not the same. His demeanor is cold, his face is rung with exhaustion, and I can see that his posture has changed significantly.

He’s bent forward just enough for me to notice, his arm around me tighter than it should be in a relaxed setting. It’s as though he’s on edge constantly, and it doesn’t bode well for his mind… or his body. To be precise, I can’t recall the last time he’s slept over four hours in a night, and it shows.

“Carter,” I say, pressing my hand to his taut chest. “You need to drop this for the night.”

“What do you mean, dove?”

“You need to set this aside for the night. Did you eat at Anita’s?”

“Yeah, I had soup. What are you talking about?”

“I think you need rest.” I lean into his chest, his arm around my back, ready to snap my spine if I’m not careful around this topic. “Carter, I’m worried about you. You’re not on good terms with your closest family members anymore. Tristan gives me a look, and you get all fired up about it. And then there is Lilian…”

His fingers pinch my chin, pulling my face up and extending my throat against his chest. The coldness in his grip is enough to make me worried, to make me sick, and I can’t help but want to wiggle out of his grasp, but it doesn’t help.

He’s frozen in time, his eyes glazed over in wrath that even the most volatile volcano doesn’t compare with.

“Carter,” I lead.

“Tell me what he said about Lilian today.”

It takes me a moment to understand what he’s talking about. I did happen to go to the phone store with Tristan this morning, and he helped me pick out a few electronics for the house that I knew Carter would appreciate. We got some minor security pieces, a cell phone, and a new laptop after mine got drenched.

The conversation between us was relatively light, and while Tristan has felt a cold shoulder from his boss lately, it wasn’t like we were bashing Carter. It’s obvious in his eyes that he doesn’t seem to agree with that assumption, and it’s as if he is accusing me of doing something worse than just asking a few questions.

“Carter, I just told him about her giving me her number, that’s it.”

“You still have it? You didn’t call it, did you?”

My brows crease with dismay. “What? Why would I call her, Carter?”

“Bring it to me. Right now. I’m burning that note.”

“Carter, I need you to calm down, I don’t understand why you’re so—”

A deafening crash interrupts our conversation immediately. It sounds like glass and metal, the noise catching everyone off guard, from the current to the most recent recipients of Carter’s scolding. I sink into his side, Tristan and Lorenzo already drawing their weapons while Nicolas pauses to load his.

I don’t like the sight of guns, not after being taken by Jacob Lacey, and the presence of so many in an already tough situation is terrifying. Carter pulls a pistol out of his back holster, his finger lining the side of the barrel while we all stare at the staircase, waiting for the culprit of the noise.

After a hefty thump, I shiver and press harder into his hip.

“Easy, dove. You’ll be okay.”

I nod, trembling in angst. “What is it?”

“Someone has broken in,” Tristan hums in a steadfast whisper. “I can hear them walking around upstairs.”

My eyes fill with tears. We’ve just gone through a war with Lacey, but we’ve made amends with Donahue! I can’t imagine who else is here to harm us at this hour, and I’m hugely relieved that I defied Carter and stayed down here instead of heading back upstairs when he ordered me to.

If I was in bed right now, I don’t know what I’d do.

“Nicolas, Lorenzo, go check it out. Tristan, you stay with us,” Carter says.

Both men don’t hesitate, which is a testament to their family ties. Things might be off-kilter right now, but they are getting better. At least, they seem to be when Carter isn’t screaming at them. Maybe that will change when this ordeal is over, but that moment can’t come soon enough.

Lorenzo and Nicolas both disappear and return almost thirty seconds later, a bleeding, limping man in all dark clothes being held between them. The injured man falls down the last few steps, leaving a trail of blood behind him that smears across the stairs. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to scream.

“He was in the office upstairs,” Lorenzo grunts, his pistol lined to the back of his head. “He cut himself on the glass breaking in. There’s a large piece stuck in his side. He’s going to bleed out.”

Carter nudges me into Tristan’s care before walking toward the man.

It’s hard to miss that his finger is now on the trigger of the gun.

“Who do you work for?”

The man looks tainted with defeat, his hands covered in blood against his side, where it’s clear his plan didn’t go as he thought it would. Carter stands over the wounded man, uncaring of the puddle of blood pooling beneath his body.

“Did you come alone?”

“Yes,” the man replies with a hearty groan.

“We checked upstairs. Didn’t see any signs of anyone else,” Lorenzo adds.

Carter seems satisfied with that. “Are you going to tell me who you work for, or am I going to have to kill you and find out later for myself?”

The man shudders slightly. “I… I don’t—”

“Tell me,” Carter says, his pistol raising in height. “Or die.”

For some reason, the man looks at me. I can’t help but find his beady black eyes through the chaos of this moment. It doesn’t make any sense why he would look at me! I can’t help him, and I certainly can’t stop Carter from making his mind up on what to do with this intruder.

“Three.”

Carter’s counting terrifies me, and I look away on instinct.

“Two.”

The tension rises in the room. I feel suffocated underneath it.

“One.”

“Wait!” Before another word can be spoken, the man panics and spills his words like they’re his last. “I was hired by Killian,” the man blurts. “I… I didn’t even come armed. He just wanted me to break in. That’s all I know.”

“He’s not armed,” Lorenzo adds. “We searched him when we got to him on the floor upstairs.”

Carter lowers his pistol slightly, but the man sneaks another look in my direction, and the tension refuses to ease. “Why do you keep looking at Isabella?”

“I’m sorry,” he says simply, letting his head fall. “I just… Killian had…”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper to Tristan. “Why would the mayor want someone to break in?”

“I don’t know, Isabella. He has a vendetta against Carter, that’s clear. But why he would send him in here unarmed is not normal.”

I shake my head, my heart in my throat. “I don’t know, but I don’t like this. We can’t have another war. We’re still picking up the pieces from the last one.”

“It will be okay,” Tristan assures me, but I can hear the doubt in his tone still. He doesn’t even believe it. “Maybe you should go upstairs before anything else—”

“He wants her.”

The intruder’s words ring through the foyer.

Carter becomes rigid again, disjointed from empathy and reality at the same time, and he pulls his pistol up and doesn’t waste another second. The gun fires, the shot sending the man to his back while the life drains out of the new wound.

I harbor a scream into my hands, Tristan catching me as I turn and trip over my feet. It’s nearly too overwhelming to see, but it’s not over yet. Carter barks orders to have the body taken care of, but before anyone can move, there’s a flicking taunt of blue and red lights.

“Fuck,” Carter snaps. “Give him a gun.”

I don’t comprehend his words fast enough or decipher his meaning before the front door is kicked open in violent haste. We are all swarmed with the full force of men wearing body armor and flashing badges. Voices rise through the house, screaming for guns to be dropped, for everyone to get on the ground, and it feels like the world slows down while every new order is shouted to the rooftops.

Someone presses a knee into my back, and I hiss, my arms yanked behind me until a thunderous voice roars through the room, silencing the commotion.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”