The Promise (Wolfe Creek Duet #2)

59

THEA

“Get your ass over here,” the detective orders with the gun pointed at me. I weigh my options, but there really aren’t too many. Run and die or listen to him and die. At least I buy myself a little more time if I listen, I hope.

Slowly, I make my way to him. As I do, I get closer to Cole. Blood is soaking his shirt and he’s pale. He’s so fucking pale that I wonder if he’s already dead. Then he lets out a shuddering breath. Still alive, just barely. I swallow down the nausea that rises up.

“There’s good,” Williams says. “On your knees.” Fuck. I guess I had less time than I anticipated. I sink to my knees, hoping a bullet to the brain means instant death. That’s the best I can hope for. Closing my eyes, I wait for the sound of the gun and the deathly silence that will follow.

It doesn’t come. Instead, I hear the sound of a zipper. My eyes fly open as my breath catches in my chest. The detective positions himself in front of me and he’s undoing his pants. Looking up at him, I stammer, “Wha—what are you doing?”

“Oh c’mon, you’re fucking a bunch of guys at the same time. Don’t act like you can’t take another.”

I recoil at his words. My mind brings something to the forefront. The footage that Cole has on him, he said it was rape. It didn’t register much at the time, considering. But now, the weight of his past is bearing down on me. I’m going to be his next victim.

Balling my fists until my nails bite into my palms, I try to stop my body from shaking. I can’t let another man do this to me. I don’t have it in me. I can’t. “No,” I murmur timidly, it’s not convincing at all.

The weight of his gaze bores down on me, yet I can’t bring myself to meet it. I don’t want him to see the weakness that’s there. “Yes,” he states confidently. “I’m going to make you suffer because of the hell Cole put me through and he’s going to watch as he dies. His last memories will be of me fucking the face of the girl he’s obsessed with.” That draws my attention. Looking up, I watch as a sick smile of satisfaction creeps over his face. My stomach turns.

How do I get out of this? I don’t see a way. I have no weapon and no one’s coming to my rescue. I don’t even have a fucking corkscrew this time. Wes’ words from our last training session resurface. “Surprise me. Catch me off guard.” I need to figure out a way to do that.

Williams finishes unzipping himself, then pulls his dick out. It isn’t even hard and the sight of it makes my face twist in disgust. That’s it, I’ve decided—he’s going to have to kill me. I’m not putting that thing in my mouth and if he’s going to shoot me anyway, I might as well go with some dignity.

I lock my jaw in place, refusing to open up. The cool metal of the gun finds my forehead. “Open your goddamn mouth.” I don’t. He can shoot me. “Fucking bitch.” Williams slides his gun into the shoulder holster, then grabs my mouth roughly.

I try my hardest to keep it closed, but his fingers dig in so forcefully that I feel my mouth slowly start to give beneath his grip. He sees it too and starts to inch himself closer to me. I can’t do this. Not again. I can’t let another man do this to me. Tears prick at my eyes, knowing that it doesn’t matter how much I don’t want this, he’s going to make it happen.

He pushes up against my pursed, nearly open lips. The sour and sweaty scent of him hits me—I gag. Squeezing my eyes shut, a tear escapes.

“Get the fuck away from her!” A roaring voice booms. My eyes fly open and from the corner of them, I see a towering, messy-haired man. My Wes. Relief floods through me, but then it flees. I can’t get distracted by that. I need to think. I need to end this.

Glancing up, I see the detective’s head turned in shock at the interruption. He’s distracted. My gaze drops to the gun in his holster. “Catch me off guard.” It’s now or never. My hand shoots out and I grab the weapon before Williams realizes what’s going on.

I press the gun to the detective’s limp dick. “Back the fuck up,” I warn. He doesn’t hesitate. “Put that pathetic thing you call a cock away.” Slowly, he tucks himself back in and zips up his pants. My eyes flick to Wes—he has his gun drawn as well. I can breathe easy now.

“Let’s go,” Wes orders Williams, motioning with his head for him to follow. The two of them leave the room. I’m not sure what he plans to do with the detective, but it won’t be good and I’m not sure I want to witness it.

I set the gun down with shaky hands and inhale deeply. Then I look over at Cole. He’s hardly breathing now and his eyelids struggle to stay open. I don’t owe him anything. He’s a monster who’s tormented me. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy. And yet, I go to his side.

Those few moments right after he was shot replay in my head. The moment I realized that he does love me in his own way. Not the way I want and not in a way I can justify his actions, but he does love me. And maybe that’s what softens me.

Even after torturing him… Even after swearing that I hate him and he means nothing to me, I’m not as cold as I thought I was. I can’t be a monster. I thought I could, however, those depths are too dark. There might be beauty in darkness, but there’s also so much despair. That’s not where I want to be and if I let myself sink down that far, I may never be able to find my way back. There are people I love that deserve the best parts of me. I deserve the best parts of me.

“Don’t,” Cole whispers, almost inaudibly. There’s a dribble of blood at the corner of his mouth. He’s dying. There’s nothing I can do for him except sit here until he goes. He hasn’t done anything to warrant my kindness. Still, I take his hand in mine, the one with the finger I severed, and I force myself not to flinch as I stare down at it.

“You tormented me,” I mutter. “You hurt me so badly.” My eyes find his. “But you shouldn’t have to die alone.” Cole’s lip quivers, then he coughs weakly, making blood sputter onto his chin. Maybe if I prop him up, it’ll be easier.

I let his hand go and position myself behind his head, then I lift him and slide my knees beneath him. He grunts in pain at the movement.

“Thea, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anyth—”

“Fuck,” a voice interrupts him. Looking up, I see Adrian in the doorway. Fuck is right. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to think I did this. Well, I did do some of it. But I didn’t kill him.

Adrian falls to his knees and his hands frantically hover over the wound. “Cole,” his voice cracks.

Cole’s hand weakly reaches for his brother. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I ruined everything.” His breath comes in ragged and uneven waves. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”

“No,” Adrian whimpers. “You can’t leave. You can’t do this. You owe me. I took the fall. You owe me.” Each time he says it, he’s closer to breaking down. “You owe me.” It finally spills over. Tears slip down Adrian’s cheeks. I want to reach out to him, but I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t draw attention to myself even though I know that he knows I’m here. If I do, I’m terrified that he’s going to blame me or hate me. I don’t want him to hate me.

“I know. I should’ve taken the fall. I should’ve owned up to what I did.” I watch silently as Cole takes accountability in pauses and whispers. “It was all my fault. I’m so sorry, Adrian. I want you to forgive me, but I need you to forgive yourself more.” His voice is so low that Adrian puts his ear to his brother’s mouth to hear him better.

He doesn’t have much longer.

Adrian pulls back an inch and his hands find Cole’s cheeks. “I do. I forgive you and I forgive myself. We were just kids. We didn’t mean it.” Cole takes a shuddering breath. It’s almost time. I rest my fingers on the side of his neck, checking his pulse. It’s weak, I can hardly feel it.

“Good,” he says breathlessly. His eyes fall closed. I can’t feel his pulse anymore. It’s too weak. My eyes jump to Adrian, waiting for him to realize that this is it. “Take… Take care of… Of Thea,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving.

“No, Cole! Cole!” Adrian cries out in agonizing wails, his hands frantically gripping his face, looking for any signs of life. “Cole. You can’t do this!”

My fingers leave his neck. He’s not breathing anymore. The words are coming out before I can stop them. “I’m so sorry, Adrian.” His eyes lock on mine and I’m so fucking scared. He hates me. To him, this is all my fault. I’m Havoc. I destroy everything. What is he going to do to me?

The question is interrupted as something strange catches my attention. Smoke. There’s smoke pouring into the room. I start to cough, then Adrian does too. Fire. There’s a fire somewhere. We have to go.

I slide out from under Cole. “Let’s go, Adrian.” He just sits there like he doesn’t hear me. “Adrian! Now!” I grab him by the arm, then grab Williams’ gun. Thankfully, he follows, even if aimlessly.

Dragging him upstairs, I get to the top step and my mind can hardly process what’s happening. Flames rage around the fireplace. I trace the source. The garland from the mantle has been knocked loose and is fueling the fire. The decorations around the base of the fireplace have also caught on fire. I don’t know if we have an extinguisher.

But I can’t even focus on putting the flames out because something more important draws my attention.

Wes and the detective are locked in a struggle, each one trying to gain an advantage over the other. Looking behind me, I see Adrian frozen in place with his mouth hanging open. Fuck. This has to be bringing back memories of that night.

It’s all burning down around me and I don’t know how to stop it. What am I supposed to do?

ADRIAN

This is too much. The smoke. The fire. I can’t do this again. I can’t.

My brother just died in front of me. My other brother is struggling with the detective. My mind tries to sort and separate these things. I try to push past the memories of smoke filling my lungs ten years ago. It’s not the same. This is different.

“Adrian, help me,” Thea calls out. I want to. I want to help her, but I can’t move. I’m stuck in this state of panic. “Please,” she begs. “We have to help Wes.” I can hear the tears in her voice. She needs me. No one’s ever needed me before.

I close my eyes. Then, I take a breath, smoke fills my lungs and I start choking. It all feels too similar to the night my uncle died. And in some ways, this is worse. Nothing’s in my control.

Cole’s body is downstairs. Thea’s begging for me to snap out of it. And across the room, my other brother needs my help. No one’s ever needed me before.

It’s a paralyzing thought. I’ve never been needed, so I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be needed. It can’t be that hard, right? Just do something, I tell myself. Anything.

Then, I realize that this time I can make things right. Even if the result is the same—killing someone—I’ll be doing it to save someone I love. There’s honor in that, isn’t there?

Pulling my gun from my waistband, I point it in the general area of where my brother and the detective are struggling. I can’t get a clear shot. Not only is it too dark, despite the light from the raging fire, their movements are too erratic. It’s too risky for me to take the shot, especially because I’ve had no training or practice.

So, I’m forced to watch and wait for the perfect opportunity. First, Wes is on top of the detective, then a punch is thrown at my brother, disorienting him. Then the detective is on top of him. My gun follows their movements, but the margin for error is too great. I could hit my brother.

Fuck. I’m going to have to get in there.

“Thea, I’m going to separate them. I need you to shoot him when I do. Can you do that?” She looks down at the gun in her hand, then back up at me.

Nodding, she says, “Yeah. I can absolutely do that.” The tears in her voice have fled and all that’s left is determination. I completely trust her to have my back. I never thought I’d be able to say that.

Tucking my gun back into my waistband, I hurry to my brother. I watch as he lurches to the side, grabbing something dark, although I can’t tell what it is. But the detective seems to know. Wes scrambles to his feet and his opponent follows suit, lashing out as he does.

He latches onto whatever Wes is holding. They struggle against one another, pushing away just to pull in close, neither winning the battle. Now’s the perfect time and I can spare Thea from making the kill.

My hand reaches around back, but just as it does, a shot rings out. Everyone freezes and silence follows. The only noise is the crackling of the hungry fire as it eats through whatever it can find.

Finally, I look around, trying to figure out who shot the gun. Thea’s looking around too, so it wasn’t her. I don’t see anyone else.

Turning back to my brother and the detective, I see both of them looking down, and then it hits me. That dark object they’re fighting over is a gun. As they pull away from each other, I see the detective’s white button up soaked in blood. Relief floods me. Jesus, that was close.

My eyes meet Wes’ expecting to see the same feeling on his face. But I don’t. His face is pinched and his shoulders hunched forward. Slowly, I watch as he touches his stomach. I don’t see anything, but he’s wearing all black. Then, he pulls his hand away—it’s coated in crimson.

It all hits me at once. He’s been shot. Wes has been shot. I look at the detective. The blood on his shirt isn’t his. And the gun… it’s in his hand.

He shot Wes.