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temptation-narnia-chronicles · 5 years

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From Upon the Golden Thrones

Episode 31: A Battle of Gigantic Proportions

A hand skated down Peter’s back, resting right above the waist of his pants. His breath hitched in his throat. Everything was dark. Their touch felt familiar, and yet there was something discomforting about all of this. Something wasn’t quite right. The hand skirted around to his lower stomach, and he could feel the hot breath of someone far shorter than him against his chest. His first instinct was Eilonwy. He reached out to cup her cheek, but instead of soft skin he found rugged fabric and knotted dreadlocks. A disgusting chuckle reached his ears. This was not his love. This was the embodiment of his current hate. This was someone who didn’t give a damn about others. Someone selfish and coarse and cruel. He opened his mouth to speak, and then…

Peter snapped awake, gasping. The ground beneath him shook, and everything around him was chaos. His men were scrambling to put on their pants and gather their weapons. Maybe it was the alcohol, or his exhaustion, but Peter’s mind felt as if it was working at half speed. Everything was hazy and dim. Before he could ask what was going on, Rhindon landed in his lap with a thud.

“Rise and shine, kid” Bone called from the doorway. “We’ve got company.”

And then Peter understood all too well the magnitude of their situation. It was what they had been sent there for in the first place. He leapt to his feet and peered out the window. Giants.

The only time he had ever seen giants before in his life was during the Battle of Beruna, as part of the White Witch’s army, but even then they were nothing compared to this. He had not fought any of them personally, and from a distance they seemed drastically overexaggerated. But now, here they were mere meters away from him, the creeps of Ettinsmoor, and he would be lying if he said he was unafraid.

He finished getting dressed as he ran downstairs behind the others. Time seemed to be moving far faster than he could keep up with, but before diving into the fray, there was one thing of particular interest that caught his eye. He glanced over his shoulder to find Bone standing by the back door of the tavern, grasping Rosalie’s hands tightly and whispering something to her urgently. Rosalie nodded, tears in her eyes, and squeezed Bone’s hands as he leaned in. His face was mainly hidden by Rosalie’s then, which blocked Peter from getting a good look when he pulled his mask down to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. It was something Peter had certainly not expected but filled him with such a strange feeling. He never would’ve imagined Captain Bone was capable of being soft and affectionate, and yet here he was displaying just that. Perhaps there truly was more to their relationship than he had initially believed.

But now was not the time for sentiment. There was a war raging outside that Peter needed to become a part of. Rosalie hid herself away in the back room and Bone rushed toward the door. He punched Peter in the arm as he went, shouting back “Quit wasting time, we’ve got giants to kill!” Peter nodded once and then rushed off after him.

One by one, the giants scooped up scores of men and dwarves alike, squeezing them in one hand until they splattered or chewing them to pieces with their gnarly teeth. Soon the snowy battlefield was stained red with blood. Peter’s heart raced as he fought with everything he had, his palms beginning to sweat. Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea after all. His men were getting slaughtered, and there was nothing he could do to save them. He thought about their families, their wives and children, and how some of them would never return now. How he would have to break the news and watch them fall to their knees hysterical. He did this. This was his fault. He looked to Bone across the way, slashing at giants left and right, sweat beading on his brow. He was right. They likely would’ve been better off letting him and his men handle things. It was too late to turn back now, though. The battle had already begun, they were already devoted to the cause. He needed to stop focusing on the death and destruction, on feeling empty and worthless and disgusting, and turn his attention to the task at hand: protecting his land and killing the enemy.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the alcohol, or both, that started affecting him. Maybe the heartbreak finally caught up to him. The battle wore on, and soon the High King’s vision grew hazy. A pale white hand reached out in front of him, sword drawn, and his heart raced. The snow around him melted to lush grass, the sun blinding. A familiar face, bathed in bright light, smirked back at him as her blade sliced through flesh in slow motion, splattering blood everywhere.

You’re not supposed to be here, he thought. You promised you would stay out of this. She narrowed her dark eyes at him, her chapped lips pursed as if to say You don’t own me. You don’t tell me what to do. I am a warrior, and I will fight as it is my duty and instinct.

A giant swooped down and swiped his hand across the field, sending every man in his path sliding toward the tavern. Peter choked, squeezed between three rather large men, before he heard the slam of impact. He turned around to find a body hunched on the ground, blood oozing from her side. I told you that you would get yourself killed if you came out here, he wanted to say. He fell to his knees, reached out to pull her in close, but all he found in his arms was cold, lifeless snow. Tears brimmed and a lump rose in his throat. She was never there, fighting alongside him, and she never would be again. She was just a figment of his imagination. A ruse. A sleepy stupor. He reached into his back pocket to caress the little scrap of red fabric, the last piece of her that remained. This was so wrong. She didn’t deserve to die. She wasn’t supposed to die. There was no way he could bring her back. The heavy footsteps of a giant on the run shook the ground from behind him. For a moment, he wished he would just end it all, send him to wherever people go when they die here so he can be with her again. But that was too selfish. He still had Susan and Edmund and Lucy to take care of. He still had a family he needed to return to. He still had a letter that needed a response. Besides, he knew better than to let himself get killed. He heard Eilonwy’s voice in his head, shouting at him to do something. When he looked up, however, he was met with Bone’s stony gaze. They really are quite alike, Peter thought to himself. Eilonwy would never have wanted him to do something so stupid. Just because she had died, didn’t mean Peter had to, as well. It was at that moment that he decided right here, in the place of her death, he would fight with every ounce of strength he had and defeat these terrible creatures with the scrap of her cape in his pocket and the sword she helped name in his hand. It was all for her. Everything he did, and everything he would ever do. He would honor her in the only way he knew how: by continuing to fight as she could not do.

The battle raged until nightfall, the cloudy sky fading from dim orange to bleak navy. Corpses of giants littered the meadow—those who did not perish mostly retreated back home to nurse their wounds. The stench of the dead bodies was unimaginable. Peter removed his sword from the chest of a fallen enemy, sweating and gasping for breath. He had given himself completely to the fight, and worked for hours without so much as a brief respite. He was too high on determination, too desperate for victory. It was all for her, and now he was triumphant just as promised.

“We did good work” he heard Bone announce, one foot on the bloody hand of the enemy. He surveyed the land, nodding with satisfaction. “This should keep us fed for the rest of the year” he added, and Peter nearly vomited in his mouth. The captain ushered everyone inside the tavern to get patched up, then insisted the able bodied begin carting the corpses away to be taken care of. To his surprise, Bone slapped Peter on the back as he entered, then nodded once and said, “You’re not so bad after all, kid.”

The tavern’s dining room quickly filled with many a weary soldier, some of whose injuries were worse than others. Rosalie rushed to each man as quickly as possible, treating the worst first as was only appropriate. As Peter began to sober up, he surveyed the men around him in a sort of sleepy haze. He almost felt desensitized to the chaos after such an intense battle. Some men screamed in agony, blood dribbling down their lips and chins and staining their clothes. Tristan lay on the floor near the fireplace writhing in pain. He had lost his arm but not his life, or at least yet. The outlook was bleak. Peter hoped he would make it through the night.

By midnight most of the severe cases had been taken care of and had passed out with the help of the ample supply of booze. Though his wounds were minor at best, Rosalie still insisted on treating Peter just as she had the others, pressing with a docile giggle that even kings deserve treatment. As the she-minotaur worked, Peter looked about at the dwarfs piled upon men, their sweetly calm faces and melodic snoring. There was a sort of relief to the peacefulness of it all that calmed the High King even further. There was one thing, however, that struck a strong tinge of curiosity in him.

“Rosalie, where did Bone go?” he asked, breaking the streak of silence. Rosalie paused for a moment and gulped.

“It’s not unlike Captain Bone to retreat to his chambers for some solitude after a big battle” she then explained. She kept her large eyes fixed on her work.

“But what about his wounds? Shouldn’t he get treated, as well?” Peter asked. He was certain that despite his confidence, there was no way Captain Bone had left that battle unscathed.

“I’ll cater to his wounds later” Rosalie replied. “Right now, he’s insisted on alone time to rest and recharge.”

Peter was not about to argue with what Rosalie and Bone had previously agreed to, but he couldn’t help but stare at that back door utterly perplexed. Just another layer of mystery and intrigue added to the story that was Captain Elias Bone. A part of him wondered if he would ever uncover the whole truth behind this man, but as his eyelids grew heavier, he knew there was nothing else to be done.

Come morning, Peter and his men packed their things and prepared for the journey back home. Had she been more assertive, Rosalie would have rejected the idea, insisting that his men needed more time to heal, but Bone stepped in before she could say anything and refuted her idea. It was time for them to go, and that was something even the worst of them understood.

“I suppose you weren’t that useless after all, kid” Captain Bone said with a boyish nod as Peter and his men prepared to depart. The sky overhead was bright and clear, a fine day for travelling. He hoped the journey home would be smooth and quick.

“Maybe now you’ll have a little more faith in your High King” Peter suggested, but Bone rolled his eyes and punched Peter on the arm.

“I don’t like you that much” he replied gruffly.

Peter gazed around at the little tavern and the clearing outside it, the snow still stained with blood, and for a moment he almost hated to leave this place. So much had happened in the short time he had spent there. And then there was the matter of Eilonwy. Leaving such a place almost felt like leaving her behind, knowing that it was here that she spent her final breaths. He wanted to cling to every last bit of her there ever was, and yet at the same time overstaying his welcome made him nauseous. He feared that if he spent too much time here, visions of that night might drive him mad. No, he was going home. This was for the best.

“I expect you to take good care of the Northern border” Peter replied. “I trust that it is in good hands should the giants make the poor decision to attack again.”

“Oh, they’ll certainly be back” Bone said. “Giants are bloody idiots. They’ve got puny brains for such large bodies. I anticipate they’ll no doubt make the same mistake twice. But when they do return, we’ll be ready for them, I’ve no doubt.”

The High King gave a definitive nod, then peered back at his men. “Well, thank you for the lodging and the help, and I hope you both stay safe” he said. “Maybe one day our paths will cross again?”

Bone rolled his eyes after a split second of hesitation. “Only in your nightmares, kid.” And with that, Peter bid them a polite farewell before leaping aboard Besnik and riding off. Bone and Rosalie watched from the doorway until the army disappeared into the thick forest, breathing a sigh of relief once they were finally gone.

“There now, we can finally relax again” the she-minotaur said, locking the front door as Bone slid into a seat at a nearby table. He cleared his throat and rubbed his chest, making a sour expression. “Are you alright?” she then finally asked, inching closer. She poured the man a drink, which he gratefully accepted.

Captain Bone tugged down his neck scarf and took a long swig of ale. He threw his hat across the floor and ran his fingers through his long, tangled hair. Then off went his leather jacket, and his overshirt, and everything else until he had completely dissolved his outer shell. He glinted at his reflection in his glass and pursed his lips. Pale skin, chapped lips, thick brows, bony and spindly and gross.

Rosalie cleared her throat. “A-are you alright? Eilonwy?”

The captain chugged the last of her drink and then threw the empty glass against the wall, watching it shatter across the floor. “I will be. Eventually” she scoffed. Then, after a few more moments, she buried her face in her hands, muttering “God…oh, God…”

The she-minotaur scooted into the seat beside her and began rubbing her back gently. “It’s alright, Ellie. You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe I did this…” the huntress whispered past the lump in her throat. She refused to let herself cry. “I told him the story, that I was dead. I could literally see his heart break, that…that look on his face…”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know” Rosalie reminded her. “There would be no harm in having told the truth.”

“No” Eilonwy shook her head. “No, impossible. This…this was for the best. This, here, is where I belong. Not with him, in that god-awful castle. No. No, I couldn’t do it. I-I don’t…” Her voice was breaking, and her thin hands began to tremble. Rosalie pouted sympathetically and pulled the woman into her arms, kissing her forehead softly.

“I know that’s what right isn’t always what’s easiest, but I think you handled this very well, all things considering” Rosalie whispered. “I’m proud of you, Ellie, for your unwavering strength and bravery. And I’m honored to call you my dear companion.” It was at this that Eilonwy felt the hot tears begin to surface against her will. Gasping for breath, she buried her face in her hands and let herself finally break down.

#YOU'RE WELCOME ^_^#t: futgt #t: futgt c: thirty one #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #fanfiction #narniaff

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justauthoring · 7 years

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Feigning The Connection (9/?)

Prompt: You seem so invincible. But just touch you and you’ll wince. You have secrets and trust no one. You’re the perfect example of betrayal. Because anyone you’ve ever trusted broke you. Thrust into a new world, will you be able to stay alone, or will Bellamy work his way in.

SEASON ONE

A/N: The first season was amazing and I abosuletly loved writing it, but even more so because of the amazing support my followers gave me! I am so excited to be starting season two, and i HAVE SO MANY PLANS OF WHAT I’M GONNA DO! :))))))) okay sorry, excitement...

Again thank you all for your support and I thank you with tons of kisses! xoxoxoxoxo, I hope you enjoy season two of “Feigning The Connection!”

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Based off of: The 100 02x01 and 02x02

Warnings: none.

“I can’t... I can’t go anymore.”

Everything burned, beyond belief. Your shoulder burned with agony, and every movement, every step hurt beyond words explainable. You wrists felt as if they’d fall off any moment, as you stared at the rope binding your two hands together. You were pretty sure blood was pouring prefousely from your head as that had been where Tristan, you’d learned his name, had hit you with his sword.

No matter how much any of you begged or pleaded, it didn’t matter. Your eyes fell around you, catching sight of Finn and another one of the hundred. Figured you’d be captured with Finn. Though despite the arguments you two had had in the past, you found comfort in finding someone you’d known pretty well.

Pitifully, you stared at the boy behind you who looked as if he would fall over any moment. He’d been begging for hours to be given a rest, but no matter how much he did, Tristan didn’t seem to care. With panic, you watched as his feet stumbled over themselves. You feared what Tristan would do if he fell, so you shot forward trying to grab him in time, the boy held on to you, nearly taking you down with him before Finn grabbed you. He held you up steadily, and you gave him a thankful nod as you panted.

Tristan stopped as the boy fell to the ground with a thunk. “Get on your feet,” he ordered.

“I can’t!” The boy begged.

“I said get on your feet.” Tristan grumbled, jumping off his horse. With terror, you leaned down to help the boy, looking back up at Tristan who made his way over to you three. “He can’t anymore. Please.” You tried, reaching forward to help him. Finn fell to your side, pulling the boy up. “Get up,” he pushed.

Once the boy stood up, all your work was for nothing as Tristan yanked on the rope connecting to his bound wrists. You went to grab him but was a second too late when he fell to the ground with a thunk, Tristan’s foot falling on top of his back. You watched with wide panicked eyes as he pulled his sword from his side, taking his foot off the boys back and pulling him back by the hair so Tristan has clear access to his throat. Realizing his intent, you felt tears filling your eyes as you reached out, “please!”

Tristan ignored you, taking his sword he swiped it across the boy neck, slicing through the skin. You looked away in despair as blood began to pour from his neck. You found Finn’s eyes as he stared in shock. “no!”

“That was one.” You heard Tristan announce. “I lost three hundred.” You didn’t turn back, shaking your head at the ground. You’d lost so many already and it just kept happening, you didn’t even know what had happened to your friends back in the drop-ship. The explosion had eventually worked, but you didn’t know what came to them afterwards, you prayed they were still in there, safe. Though, it didn’t look as if you’d be going back anytime soon, or ever, you thought despairingly.

“Y/N!” Finn yelled, catching your attention. Turning, you found Tristan making his way over to you, sword held threateningly. A whimper escaped your lips as you began to step back in fear, tripping over your own feet. You held your hand before you, bracing yourself but stared in bafflement when Tristan lowered his sword, grabbing a canteen in it’s sted and handing it to you. You reached out hesitantly, unsure of his motives. “Drink. You two are lucky. I need to keep at least one of you alive to talk to the commander.”

You took a drink, basking in the water as it glided down your dry throat. You made sure to leave lots for Finn as you handed it over to him, him nodding thankfully. A hand grasped your wrist, hauling you up with ease as Tristan stalked back over to his horse, taking the canteen with him. Sighing, you began walking again, but not before your eyes fell on the limp body beside you.

“Hey!”

You snapped your head over, the voice sounded distinctly familiar. When your eyes found the same head of curly brown locks, wetted down by the light rain and the face covered with blood and dirt, a feeling you couldn’t described washed over you. When you hadn’t been able to catch sight of him that night, you’d thought he’d died. You’d been refusing to think of him, since it brought such despair on you.

But despite your circumstance and the pain you found yourself in, a smile slipped past your lips, wider than ever before. “Bellamy...” You mumbled in shock. You watched with concern as he looked behind him and his face erupted into confusion.

“Bellamy!” You called, looking back over at Tristan who was making his way over to Bellamy on his horse and quick. “Get out of here!” You and Finn flew forward as Tristan picked up speed, flying forward. You bellowed out in pain as you thumped against the ground and was dragged across the forest floor. You felt your tank-top ripping slightly, and bit your lip as you tried pathetically to get back up on your feet.

You finally stopped, rolling over slightly as you landed next to Finn. Blinking in surprise, you ignored the pain in your stomach as you looked around for Bellamy. Your hopes fell when you saw him laying on the ground, bellowed over as he held his stomach.

He tried to get up, rolling onto his hands and knees but Tristan easily shot his foot forward, hitting him up the stomach. You winced, getting up on your own hands and knees. “Bellamy!” You screamed as he was repeatedly punched in the face. Tears filled your eyes once again. This was much worse than assuming he was dead, you didn’t want to watch him be beat to death. “Please! Stop!”

You panted in bewilderment when Tristan seemed to listen to your pleads, getting up and off the slumped form of Bellamy. Getting up on your knees, you watched as Tristan grabbed more rope, pulling Bellamy over to you and Finn. “Get up you two,” You and Finn needlessly obeyed, getting up with soft groans. Looking down, you watched Tristan pull up Bellamy, tying his own wrists together and heading back to his horse.

“You have to stand on your feet,” Finn whispered to Bellamy, you said nothing yourself, opting to watch the back of Tristan’s head. You felt Bellamy’s gaze, but couldn’t find the words to say to him. “He’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Suddenly, shouting echoed. You turned to the sound of the voice, finding Monroe and Sterling headed your way. Your eyes fell back on Tristan in despair, as he no doubt moved forward to kill him. You jumped in shock though when the sound of a gun fired and hit Tristan in the chest. He stumbled backwards, and you stepped back when another shot hit him in the head, successively killing him.

You all looked around in shock, scared of who would walk through the trees. You found yourself breathless when Kane, your very own father walked through the trees, a gun in his hands as more guards followed behind him. Bellamy’s hands fell on you as he helped you stand, but you barely knew he was there. Your eyes stuck to the figure of your father, who you thought you’d never see again, walking towards you.

A chill ran through your spine when he made direct eye contact with you. “we’re here now. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Are you okay Bellamy?” You asked, holding Bellamy steady. Your soft hands fell on his face, as your eyes searched for any major injuries. He nodded, a hand falling on your shoulder as he pushed your attention away from his wounds. You tried to ignore his reluctance, wanting to focus on anything other than the fact that your father was standing a few inches away from you.

“I’m fine.” Bellamy reassured, “i’m fine. Y/N. Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, looking into your eyes. With a expression he couldn’t read, you stared up at him for some kind of answer. You didn’t know how you were, you didn’t think you’d ever see your father again and honestly you hadn’t wanted to. It was like your worst nightmare coming true. Shaking your head, you decided against answering the true meaning of his question, opting to wrap your arms around his waist, shocking him as you pulled him in a tight hug.

“Y/N?”

You pressed your head against his chest, sighing heavily. “I am just glad you’re alive.” You whispered so only he could hear. “I didn’t se-see- I thought you were dead.”

“You know i’m not that easy to get rid of, Y/N.” Bellamy teased as you pulled away, but you could see the thanks he held in his eyes. Laughing sightly, you brushed some knotted hair away from your face.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Turning your body towards the newcomer, you kept ahold of Bellamy as he grunted in pain softly. He clearly needed help walking, so you kept him by your side. You recognized the new woman, Abby Griffin, since you had worked close by your dad before everything happened, you learned to know all the faces of the council. You distinctly remember her being the doctor that had treated your mother... and was also Clarke’s very own mom.

“Don’t stand up,” Abby ordered, sliding off her backpack. Bellamy was quick to interrupt her and instead turned to Finn; “i’m fine. We need to get back to the drop-ship.”

“Hey, where’s Clarke?” Abby asked, concerned and anxiousness etched upon her face, “is she okay?”

“She was when we left. We’ll take you to her.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

You looked over at Finn and Bellamy, a clear concise messaged passed between each others eyes. Nodding at them, you followed Bellamy who pushed the guard in front of him to give you a head start, and running as fast as your legs could carry you with your condition you made it to one of your tunnels that you had all set up.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Crouching, you ducked through, your heart racing. When you came through, you stared at the bodies and piles of ash that had all been caused from the explosion. Taking a deep breath, you tried not to think about the fact that, albeit less than the grounders, some of those skeletons had been your friends. A sickening feeling crawled up your spine, but you felt a hand on your shoulder and you found Bellamy looking at you, you nodded, pushing away the thought away.

“Where is everyone?” You asked, your voice a hush.

“It was awful, there was hundreds of them.” You instantly recognized the sickening voice of Murphy, with shocked eyes you turned to the cockroach that leaned heavily against a guard in mock pain. Your eyes narrowed, disgusted, but before you could even say anything, you felt a woosh of air fly by you. You recognized the figure as Bellamy, immediately you knew what he was gonna do. “Wait!” You yelled, already knowing he’d get in trouble. “Bellamy!”

Once Murphy’s eyes fell on Bellamy, he froze. “Bellamy, you’re- you’re alive.”

“You murdering son of a bitch!” You flinched at the sound of Bellamy’s fist smacking against Murphy’s cheek. He instantly fell to the ground, Bellamy quick to straddle him. You looked over at Finn, before running ahead.

“Bellamy!” Finn called, “stop!”

You didn’t even notice your father behind you, until a guard stepped forward, a shock lash in his hands as he pressed it against Bellamy’s side. You lunged forward, trying to catch Bellamy as he rolled to the side in pain. You had no words as you crouched near Bellamy, and looked over at your father.

Kane stepped forward, looking down at Bellamy and you. You felt less confident under his gaze, freezing slightly as his angry eyes fell on you. “Place him under arrest.” Your gaze immediately fell into one of shock, watching with bafflement as a guard stepped forward.

“Wait, you don’t understand. Murphy murdered two of our people. He shot another and tried to hang Bellamy and kill Y/N.” Finn tried to reason.

“I don’t care. You are not animals.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you felt such anger spike within you. Everything that had happened over such a short period of time burned within you, it started even before you landed on the ground. You’d hated your father for years now, but hearing him defend the asshole who’d tried to kill you, made you feel such enraged anger. You stood up off the ground, apologetically leaving Bellamy’s side as he was hauled up and locked in cuffs.

Walking to your father, you pushed lightly past Finn and spat up at him. “Yeah, why would you care?”

He turned to you, those same piercing eyes on you. That same look he always gave you to make you submit but you bit your tongue, ignoring the fear and glaring up at him. “Excuse me?” He asked.

“Why would you? Even though Murphy tried to kill your own daughter?”

“Daughter?” Finn mumbled, you ignored his question, choosing to stare down your father.

Kane’s hand fell on your arm, the whole crowd around you watching you and your father as you had a moment that no one could understand. He gripped your arm with such force, it hurt, but you stayed strong and ignored the growing bruise you knew would be there. You wouldn’t back down, not again. All your life you’d let your father treat you like nothing, like garbage. You probably would’ve continued to, but seeing him treat your friend, Bellamy, the same made you angry beyond words.

Kane leaned down, so only you could hear. “Stop right now, Y/N. Before I arrest you like your friend.”

You weren’t so quiet yourself. “Why not? You’ve already done it once before.” You spat. Ripping your arm from his grasp, you stalked forward, Finn following behind you. Your father coming down would be hell, but no longer would you let him boss you around like you didn’t have a mind of your own. He’d caused trouble for your friends, you’d cause trouble for him.

“Take it out.”

Walking through the clear curtains, you froze upon entering, seeing who was in front of you. You stared at Abby, Finn and Raven in shock. Looking behind you, you gestured behind you; “sorry was I interrupting something? I’ll go.”

“No.” Raven gasped out, her voice raspy. Baffled by the force behind her words, you turned back to them.

“We’ll give you a minute.” Abby stated, nodding at you then Finn as they made their exit. You watched them leave, a feeling that you didn’t quite belong here, but you persevered and walked on. Reaching Raven in no time, you grasped the hand she held out for you. With concerned, wide eyes, you looked down at her. “Are you okay? What’s gonna happen?”

Raven hesitated as if to keep something from you, you begin to open your mouth, saying the question was dumb. She obviously wasn’t okay, but before you could, she rasped out; “fine. Abby’s gonna get this bullet out of me and then i’ll be fine.” She lied, but of course you didn’t know.

You smiled brightly, tightening your grasp on her. “When?”

“Now. I believe.”

“Would you like me to stay?” You offered, staring back. You were itching to go find Bellamy, hesitant on what you’d fine when you got there. But you needed to see him, once again your father was the one who screwed him over. You meant to keep your obvious want hidden, but when you looked back over at Raven, she smiled weakly. “Go.” She urged, “i’ll be here when you come back.”

Smiling gratefully, you squeezed her hand one last time before turning. You walked through the curtains, a determined look upon her face as you missed Raven’s last words; “hopefully.”

When you made it to the lock-up area, you half expected it to be difficult to get in. Surprisingly, the guards let you right in, but you proceeded to look back at them in confusion. Your eyes immediately fell on Bellamy who hadn’t been treated and was slumped against a pole with his arms tied. You hadn’t noticed the figure next to him as you ran towards Bellamy, falling before him.

“Bellamy?” You whispered, hesitant. You grabbed his face, hauling his head upwards. When he found you, you smiled brightly, happy to see he was alright.

“Aweh, how sweet.” A familiar voice echoed, making your attention snap to the left of Bellamy. Your gaze immediately dropped when you saw who was there, though part of you had figured he’d be here, you’d never actually gone out of your way to find out what had happened to him after. But this clearly answered the question, slumping slightly, you glared over at him, “Murphy.”

He smirked wildly, “nice to see you too Y/N.”

You chose to ignore him, turning back to Bellamy who had since picked up his head to look at you. Your hands fell on his face which was bruised and bloody with wounds, you couldn’t quite explain the feeling you felt when you saw the injuries he held and the fact that he was tied up as if some criminal. “I’m sorry...” You whispered, so only he could hear. Guilt filled within you, all of this was your fault.

“It’s fine.” He mumbled, rather shortly. You blinked, taking a deep breath. Your eyes looked over his injuries again, “no it’s not. This is my fault.” You rambled on, clearly upset.

“Hey,” Bellamy called, gaining your attention on his eyes. “I already told you, your father’s mistakes are not your own.” You froze, looking up at him. There was a conversation passed between the two of you that only you and him could understand. Nodding reluctantly, you looked at the restraints that kept him still. Immediately you fell into action, “I could try to get these off.” You stated, your slim fingers reaching for the zip tie and pulling.

“Y/N even if you did manage to get them off, what would your father do?” Bellamy asked, bringing out the rational side of you. Pausing, you sighed frustratingly, missing the fact that Murphy was right there, and of course with what he’d just heard he was definitely going to say something.

“Father?” He asked, and you shook your head, trying to ignore him. “Who’s your father?” He repeated, turning to him your glared, not realizing that you’d just told him what he needed to know. You noticed how his eyes searched over you, as if trying to study you and then with realization, his mouth fell open with a smirk. “Don’t tell me, Kane’s your father?”

“Shut up Murphy.”

“I knew it!” Murphy declared, a sick and twisted smirk upon his lips. “Miss privileged over here was too good to be true. But Marcus Kane? As your very own father? What did you have to do that dear daddy threw you in jail for?” Anger raged within you, but you tried to hold it in, not wanting to make a scene. Your fists clench with a shake, digging your nails into your palms.

“Y/N, ignore him.” Bellamy whispered to you, before glaring over at Murphy. “Shut your mouth Murphy, you know nothing about her.”

Murphy’s mischievous eyes fell on Bellamy, “and you’re okay with this Bellamy?”

“You nothing about it.”

“Sure, I know plenty.” Murphy nodded; “I know Y/N must be as twisted as her very own father. Isn’t that right, Y/N? All those panic attacks just to hide your twisted side.” Without any rational thought, you shot up from beside Bellamy, stalking over to Murphy. You were normally very calm, but with your father coming back, ruining things once again and the boy who’d tried to kill you relentlessly teasing you right beside you, you felt as if you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Y/N!” You faintly heard Bellamy yell, but ignored it and opted to continue making your way to Murphy. There was no hesitation as you swung your fist back, putting such force behind your throw as you hit Murphy in the face. He grunted in pain, and you faintly felt a spike of pain from your own shoulder but ignored it. You needed this. Just once you’d let lose. The second after your fist hit his face, you reeled back and hit him again. He could do nothing with his hands tied so you reeled back and hit him again and again.

Panting, you felt tears well up in your eyes as you grabbed his collar, nearly falling on him. “You know nothing about me.” You panted, your fists tightening so tightly on the collar of his jacket that your knuckles turned white. You panted heavily, shaking as you stared down at him. “Nothing. So don’t you dare pretend you do.”

Hands wound around your waist, and you panicked for a minute that it was your father. You struggled relentlessly in the person’s arms, “let me go!”

“Shh, Y/N. Y/N it’s me, Bellamy.” Recognizing the voice, you relented, letting him pull you away. You panted heavily against him until he set you down, turning you found his wrists untied, Finn and Monroe behind him. Finn looked shocked to see you so angry but you ignore their gazes, turning to Bellamy confused.

“What’s happening?” You panted.

“We’re getting out of here.” Finn stated, and you nodded without thought. You all began walking, Bellamy behind you as he led you out.

“Wait, wait. What about me?” Murphy asked frantically, you turned back on him with a glare but Bellamy held his hand out to you. You reluctantly listened, stepping back. You watched him stalk forward towards the clippers, grabbing them, you thought he was going to hit Murphy. Apparently so did Finn as he shot forward.

But surprisingly you watched him clip the straps that held Murphy’s bound wrists to the pole, “he’s coming with us.”

You stared up at Bellamy in bewilderment, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He’s been to the grounder prison camp.” Bellamy explained, Murphy quick to agree. “He’s right, okay? I can take you there.”

“Hey, Sterling just signaled. Someone’s coming.”

Taking a deep breath, you walked up to Murphy, him flinching ever so slightly. “Fine, but you keep your damn mouth shut.”

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

Grounded chapter 17

“Tell Tristan I said hi,” she said.

“Selena says hello,” I told Tristan, not liking his name on her lips, but tamping my outrageous jealousy down. That jealousy would become a problem for us if I didn’t control it. I understood that. My need for us to work helped me to try to keep it to myself when I knew that it was unreasonable.

“I’ll be heading over there when I finish,” I told her. “Are you about done?” It didn’t really matter to me if she was. I was impatient to see her, and I’d go and wait for her if necessary. I hoped that she wasn’t getting tired of my company, because we’d only been apart for a few hours and already I was ravenous for the sight of her.

I was picturing how I would take her in that little house when she answered. “Yeah. That should be perfect.”

I thought it would be perfect to f**k her one last time in that house, even if she was done packing. I would bury myself inside of her wherever I happened to find her. Maybe I would bend her over the kitchen counter, or take her on the dining room table. I shook myself. She’d put a spell on me, and I wouldn’t be free of it any time soon. Or ever, I thought with a grin. Mrs. Cavendish had such a lovely ring to it.

“Tristan is coming over for dinner tonight. As if I’m not paying him enough to make rabbits disappear, now I have to make him dinner.”

“I have a new trick where I can make pretty boy CEOs disappear,” Tristan told me.

Selena laughed into my ear. I loved that laugh.

“Will you let the guys know that they’re invited, as well?” I asked, smiling.

“That sounds fun,” she said. “I take it he got a favorable contract for next year’s shows.”

“He signed on for another year,” I said, looking at Tristan with a raised brow, “but we had to double the bastard’s pay. Funny how soon he forgets just who discovered his sorry ass.”

Selena had gone very quiet on the other end. My whole body tensed, as if bracing for a blow and not knowing where that blow could come from. I absently scratched at the scars on my wrists, my most nervous tell. I thought I had trained myself out of the habit. What was wrong with me today?

“Selena?” I questioned. I would be fine if I just heard her voice again.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” she said, the new distance in her voice just making me more agitated.

“Love, is something the matter?” I asked.

I stood and began to pace, unable to stand still. “You sound upset.”

She didn’t respond for endless moments. I was getting desperate when her voice sounded again.

“Blake!” she said, a clear thread of panic in her voice.

No, I thought, my heart trying to pound out of my chest.

I swung around, my gaze finding Clark. He was so good at reading me that he already had his phone out.

“Police?” he asked.

I nodded. It could be nothing, but I didn’t give a fuck. If it was something, the sooner they were on their way, the better.

“Selena, what is it?” I tried. “Is something wrong? Talk to me, Love.”

An echoing bang on the other end of the line made my blood run cold. Selena gasped into my ear.

No, I thought, and began to move.

“Stay down, Selena,” I heard Blake say on the other end. “Don’t move, and whatever you do, don’t leave this house. I’ll be right back.”

No. A mean fist gripped my heart.

I could hear her breathing, but as I spoke and cajoled and pleaded with her to tell me what was going on, she refrained from speaking for long moments on the other end. I recalled that terrible afternoon just months ago, watching the ambulance take her away, my heart in pieces as I waited in agony to see if she was okay.

Clark fell into step behind me without a word as I strode through the offices and to the elevator. I saw what floor it was on and took the stairs, not willing to wait, the phone still held to my ear. I took the stairs down at a sprint.

“Tell me what’s going on, Selena!” I tried again, tearing through the casino now. “What was that noise? Why did Blake tell you to stay down? Where did she go? I need to know what’s going on!”

Another loud shot sounded on her end of the line, and I died a little inside just hearing it.

I tried my damnedest to sound calm, but it was a struggle. “We’re on our way to you, Love, and we’ve put in a call to the police, but I need you to tell me what’s going on. What was that noise?” I was grasping at straws, I knew, hoping I had somehow heard an engine backfiring in the distance. Twice…

“I love you, Justin,” she said very softly.

It broke me, a feeling of helplessness and dread filling me.

“What’s happening over there?” I asked roughly. I barely noticed that my voice broke on the words.

Another gunshot sounded on her end, and she whimpered. It wrecked me. I wanted to clutch my chest and howl with the fear, but instead I ran, determined to get to her.

“I love you, Justin,” she said again. The resignation in her voice wasn’t reassuring in the least.

Clark kept pace with me, and broke ahead as we reached the doors, talking frantically to the valet manager, procuring us a car with remarkable speed. He got behind the wheel as I took the passenger’s seat. He was peeling out before I could finish buckling in.

“Talk to me,” I told her desperately. “I have to know what’s going on. We’re in the car now. We’ll be there in less than twenty minutes, but you need to talk to me. What’s all that noise?”

Another shot sounded and I closed my eyes in dread. “Are those gunshots?” I asked wretchedly. I had never felt so helpless and worthless in my life.

“Yes,” she breathed. “In my backyard, I think. I’m scared, Justin. I need you to tell me that you love me back. Please. Just in case.”

The starkest terror that I’d ever known gripped my chest. I wasn’t a superstitious man, but I felt suddenly as though if I told her that now, it would be the last time, and I just couldn’t do it. It was illogical, but I couldn’t make myself say the words again until I held her in my arms.

“No,” I whispered, that brutal refusal making my chest ache. “I’ll be right there. Are all of your doors locked up? Just stay hidden, and stay down. You’re going to be fine, and I will be there so soon to tell you those words.”

She gasped suddenly, her breathing changing, as though she was moving. Panic had me firmly in its grasp and I had to just listen futilely as two more shots sounded in the background. Two ragged sobs escaped her throat as though torn from her.

No, no, no, I thought.

“I love you, Justin,” she told me, her voice so steady now. Somehow, that terrified me more than anything else had. “So much. I’m so sorry.”

I was yelling at her in a broken shout as she hung up on me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Mr. Desolate

JUSTIN

I could have wished that the twenty minute drive was just a blur for me, but of course it wasn’t. It was the longest drive of my life. I died a million little deaths on that drive, my mind going to the darkest places.

I even found myself cursing God, when I’d always been the most agnostic soul. Why did he hate me so much? I wondered angrily. First he took my parents, who I’d adored, and now I’d found a home and a family again, one that I coveted and worshipped with a single-minded purpose. I couldn’t bear the thought that I would lose her just when I’d found her. I rejected the thought. This couldn’t be happening. If her father had attacked her, surely the security had subdued him before he could have touched her. There was no acceptable alternative.

I watched the clock on the dash for the entire drive. Clark ran red lights, weaved through traffic, and drove like his life depended on it. He made good time, and we were pulling into her neighborhood less than fifteen minutes after we’d gotten into the car.

I was jumping out of the car before it had stopped, rushing to the front door. It was locked, and I cursed as I dug out my keys. Absently I noted that Clark took another route, jumping the fence into the backyard while I entered the house. It was where she’d been when I’d been talking to her, so I looked inside first.

The first few rooms were empty, and I heard sirens drawing close as I scanned the kitchen.

Clark was standing in front of the back door that led into the yard from the bedroom when I stepped inside. My gut clenched, nearly doubling me over. The back door had been open…

I rushed forward, but Clark moved to stop me. He caught me before I reached the door.

I fought him in earnest. There were no seconds to waste.

“Please, Justin,” he said in a soft voice I barely recognized as coming out of him. “You don’t want to see what’s back there. No one should have to see that. The paramedics are here. Let’s let them in to do their jobs.”

I heard a horrible whimper of a noise as though from a distance, barely noting that it had escaped from my own throat.

He would only say a thing like that if there was nothing to be done, and clearly Selena was not in the house.

“Is she back there?” I asked him, my voice breaking on the words. It felt like every part of me was breaking.

He nodded, and a tear ran down his cheek. “You can’t do anything for her, Justin, but you can save yourself the pain of seeing her like that.”

Of course, I couldn’t stay away. I refused to accept what his words implied, even as I felt my own face growing wet with tears.

“Let me by,” I told him, a quaver in my voice. “I have to be with her.”

He bowed his head and let me pass, seeing my resolve.

The sight that greeted me literally brought me to my knees.

There hadn’t been a second since I’d met her that I felt as though I’d taken her for granted. I’d loved her, I’d treasured her, I’d coveted her, and adored every inch of her, but it still didn’t feel like it had been enough. I’d misstepped with her, I’d screwed up plenty, but we’d been working through it all. Life could have been perfect. All we’d needed was more time…

I crawled to her, only distantly noting that hers was not the only body lying in the small backyard.

She was on her back, her head turned sharply to the side, obscuring one side of her face. What was showing of her face was strangely intact, almost peaceful. Her hair was spread around her, the pale blonde strands now wet and dyed red with blood. I tried to tell myself that she might be fine, that she could survive this, but I could see clearly from where the blood pooled that it must be a head wound.

Raw sounds of anguish tore out of me with every movement as I made my way to her.

Lightly, carefully, as though she were made of glass, I held her hand and sobbed. I wouldn’t survive this. I didn’t want to survive this. There was nothing in the world that I wanted to live for after enduring this.

For the first time in my life, I began to pray. For her life or my death, I didn’t know. I would have taken either just then.

I didn’t even look up as the paramedics arrived in force. I only noticed the body that had been lying beside hers as it was shifted away. Apparently, the paramedics weren’t going to try to help that one, since it was missing a head. Its massive torso was riddled with holes, and I perceived that it had been her father. His death gave me no satisfaction. It wasn’t enough, and certainly, he hadn’t died in time to spare her.

How had it come to this? I wondered wretchedly.

My vision was blurred and I just couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything but that hand. It was limp in mine, but unscathed, and if I looked up, I knew there was a good chance I’d find answers that I wasn’t willing to accept. Somehow, uncertainty was something to cling to when the worst-case scenario was so much more likely than the alternative.

A paramedic was crouched on the other side of her, but I couldn’t look directly at him, couldn’t let myself see what he found as he swiftly checked her vitals.

The paramedic called out loudly. I didn’t catch what he said. My mind wasn’t processing words just then. I was still focused with a single-minded purpose on that lovely hand. There was no telling how long I crouched there, motionless with dread, trying to prolong the moments, telling myself she would be fine, but filled with a stark desolation that made it hard to even breathe.

The paramedic said something else, and I didn’t realize that he was speaking to me until someone nudged me rather impatiently from behind. I blinked at the man, not really seeing him as I tried to hear what he was saying.

“Please move, sir. We need to get her on a stretcher. You’re in the way.”

I moved automatically, so unused to being told what to do that I obeyed instinctively, knowing that no one would dare give me an order if it wasn’t important.

I only shifted back the slightest amount, but a stretcher was being pushed persistently against me until I backed away far enough to give them room to work.

I pushed back with desperation when I realized that they were going to put her on the stretcher.

I won’t let them take her away from me, I thought. I’ll die before I let them put her in a bag.

Big arms circled me from behind, pulling me back. “Let them work, Justin,” Tristan said gently into my ear. I hadn’t even realized that he’d followed us here.

“Sir, every second you delay us could be crucial to her survival,” the other paramedic said, clear impatience in his tone.

I let Tristan pull me back as I tried to process those words.

Survival, he’d said, as though she had a chance. They weren’t putting her in a bag; they were staunching the flow of blood from the side of her head and moving her.

He’d said survival, I thought again. They weren’t taking her away because she was dead. They thought they could help her.

I hovered close, my thoughts becoming slowly more coherent as I began to realize that she wasn’t dead, and God willing, she might survive. With desperation, I began to let myself hope, every inch of me trembling.

I gave them room to work, but I hovered as close as possible, desperate to see what they would do, fearing that if I so much as glanced away from her I might lose her.

I was moving around her, trying to get closer to her without getting in the way, and so I saw when the first paramedic shifted her head enough to apply pressure to her wound. I whimpered when I saw the bloody hole in the side of her face. It was up near the spot where her jaw met her ear, or at least I thought that it was. It was hard to tell with all of that blood.

I never took my eyes off her, and what they were doing to help her, but I began to hear the other sounds in the yard as still more paramedics arrived. I heard another man sobbing. It had been going on for a while, but I hadn’t really noticed it—I was making so much noise myself.

Javier, I thought, dawning horror making me search him out. He hovered over the fallen form of Stephan. A paramedic was busy staunching the flow of blood from Stephan’s chest, prepping him to get on a stretcher, another man helping him. No, I thought, please no. They both had to live.

I followed the stretcher closely as they moved her, and no one dared tell me not to. I watched her chest as she breathed faintly on the long drive to the hospital. It’s a miracle, I thought. He put that gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger, and if she survives it, I have witnessed a miracle. I made crazy promises to God on that long drive, promises to give him my soul in exchange for that miracle.

I wasn’t myself as I followed her unconscious form inside the hospital. I felt disconnected from reality as they worked on her. I began to fight when they wouldn’t let me follow her into surgery. Clark and Tristan had to snap me out of it. It wasn’t until the world came back into focus that I realized that I had been in shock.

“Justin, you need to be present for this,” Tristan was telling me, his voice firm, his eyes steady. “Your influence can help them. I guarantee it. You can’t follow her into surgery, but you can call in some favors.”

“Buy the f**king hospital if you want them to give Selena, Stephan, and Blake their best chances,” Clark added.

The nurse was putting a blanket over my shoulders, saying soothing things, and shooting Tristan and Clark perplexed looks. Tristan understood me well, though, and his tactic couldn’t have been more brilliant. I didn’t have time to wallow in this, and certainly none to agonize about it. What I needed was action. The more the better. There were things I could do to help.

“Get the board of directors and the head of the hospital on the phone,” I told Clark. “If they ask what it concerns, tell them that someone is willing to donate an obscene amount of money for some special treatment.”

He nodded, and moved away, a small, satisfied smile gracing his mouth. I remembered that he’d said Blake, as well. I was relieved that she at least had a chance. I also knew that the names he hadn’t mentioned were surely dead. Paterson and Henry had fallen in their duty of protecting Selena. I made a note to pay out the families of both men. It was the smallest consolation, but at least neither of them had left behind children, or wives.

My first call was to my offices in Vegas, and then New York—to my second-in-command. I enlisted all of the help at my disposal to get the ball rolling faster.

CHAPTER FORTY

Mr. Helpless

SELENA

I woke with a violent jerk, my thoughts going immediately to Stephan. It was as though the sight of him lying there, lifeless, with bloody holes in his chest, had just been circling around in my head while I was out. I remembered everything as though it had happened just instants before, though I knew very well that I was in a hospital by the familiar sounds and smells.

I turned my head sharply, seeking out Justin. The short motion made my head ache and the side of my face burned sharply.

I felt my hand in his and knew that he’d stayed at my side for the ordeal. I saw in his weary, grief-stricken face how it had cost him, what he’d been put through.

“Stephan?” was the first word out of my mouth. It was agony to try to talk. I had to speak through my teeth, since I could barely open my mouth. I ignored the pain, focusing on Justin, desperate for an answer.

Justin raised his bloodshot, agonized eyes to mine. Those turquoise depths had never looked so relieved. He gasped in a breath, as though coming up for air. He blinked at me several times before he found his voice. “He’s recovering from surgery.”

I only heard his voice in one ear, and wondered vaguely if I’d lost the hearing in the other. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to me but finding out about Stephan just then.

“How badly was he hurt? Will he be okay? I need to see him now,” I said, trying to sit up.

He paused for a long time to choose his words, and that scared me more than anything. “He’s in the ICU. He was badly hurt. No one can see him—“

I pulled the IV from my arm, sitting up. The pain in my head and ear temporarily darkened my vision and a dull roar started up in the ear that was working. “I need to see him now.”

I didn’t realize what a commotion I’d caused until I’d been wrestled back into the bed, and saw the amount of people that had gathered to restrain me.

My eyes sought out Justin while a nurse shoved needles into my arm. I felt terrible as I saw the tears running down his cheeks and the helpless look on his face. “Please, Justin. I have to see him.”

Finally he nodded. “Please don’t do that again. I’ll arrange for you to see him, but you must stay in your bed.”

I nodded, closing my eyes in relief. He would do as he said. He always had.

I didn’t sleep, but I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt my bed begin to move. A team of nurses surrounded me, Justin at my right, clutching my hand as he followed beside the wheeled hospital bed. “Who else made it?” I asked Justin, bracing myself for the answer.

“Blake was wounded badly, but they’re telling me now that she’ll make it.”

“So that means that…” I swallowed hard, finding it hard to finish the sentence.

“Paterson and Henry died before the paramedics could arrive. Your…father did as well.”

I processed that, blinking away tears. “You wouldn’t believe how many holes he had in his chest, and still he kept coming…”

“It was a bullet to the brain that ended him,” Justin told me. “Stephan came to just long enough to take him out. I owe him yet another debt that I can never repay.”

My chest burned and I shut my eyes, letting awful tears run down my cheeks. Of course Stephan had survived long enough to save me. My hero. I couldn’t lose him. My eyes shot back open as a thought occurred. “Did he see my father shoot me?”

“He must have. They deduced that your father must have gotten off the shot just before Stephan fired. They tell me your struggle is all that saved you. He shot into your cheek. There was damage, but he missed his target.”

I tried to touch the bandaged side of my face. “How on earth?”

“You’ve lost significant hearing in that ear, and they had to do surgery on your jaw. There will be scarring along your jaw and cheek, but we will make sure it’s minimized as much as possible. You will have the best plastic surgeons in the world at your disposal.”

He continued to talk, but I barely even heard him, my mind still on Stephan. I couldn’t care less about the scarring, my jaw, or even the loss of hearing. I was alive. The rest were details.

But Stephan… Stephan had to live. “How long was I out?”

“Four days.”

“Tell me about Stephan’s wounds.”

“Both bullets missed his heart, if only barely, but one punctured a lung, and he’s had some internal bleeding that has persisted. The doctor who performed the surgery believes that it was a success, but he says that Stephan won’t be out of danger until his vitals stabilize. It’s been very touch and go. They tell me he’s improved, followed by a decline, but he’s getting the best care available, and he’s a healthy young man, so they say we can be hopeful, even though he’s not yet stabilized.”

“If I see him, if I speak to him, it will help,” I said, more hopeful than certain. “If he knows I made it, he’ll pull through. He would have been devastated if he watched my father shoot me. This will help.”

My vision was completely blurred with tears as they rolled my bed beside Stephan’s. They wheeled me as close as possible, my feet pointed in the direction of his headrest. They were considerate enough to bring our unencumbered hands close. Javier was on the other side of him, his head bent over his other IV covered hand.

I gripped his fingers in mine, squeezing. “I made it, Stephan. I’m fine. You saved me again, but you need to wake up now. You were hurt, but it’s nothing that you can’t survive. Please, wake up.” I got louder as I spoke, my voice rough with emotion.

He didn’t so much as twitch. I glanced at his heart rate monitor, but could make no sense of it. I glanced at the closest nurse. “Have his vitals improved?” I asked her.

She pursed her lips. “They haven’t altered.”

They let me linger for a few more minutes, and I murmured soothingly to Stephan. He never responded, never moved. I hadn’t really thought he would, but I felt a crushing disappointment as they wheeled me away from him. Some part of me had been arrogantly hoping that the sound of my voice, and the knowledge that I had survived, would be enough to rouse him. He had been my last thought as I’d blacked out, and my first thought on waking. Knowing him as I did, I had just assumed that seeing me fall had been like that for him. Perhaps it really was beyond his control. That thought defeated me more than anything.

I drifted off as they carted me back to my own room, and I knew by the floaty feeling that it was a drug induced sleep.

When I woke again, Justin was watching for it. He was speaking to me the instant my eyes blinked open groggily.

“He’s improved. Less than two hours after you spoke to him, he opened his eyes for the first time, and they tell me his vitals have finally begun to improve. The doctor went so far as to say that there is a good chance that he will pull through.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Only four hours. Stephan’s first word was your name. He was just as frantic to see you, though he was in no condition to pull his own IV out.”

There was a reprimand in his voice, and I could hardly blame him. I studied him, trying to see just how much he’d been damaged by it all, because I knew for a certainty that he had.

“You were right,” I told him, “I shouldn’t have gone back to the house.” I’d been so sure he was just overreacting, but somehow his instincts had been dead on. I’d never dreamed that my father could still get to me with so many people protecting me, but he had managed to beat all reasonable odds. “Are you furious with me?”

His face went a little slack, as though the question had caught him completely off guard. “The thought never even occurred. There’s no room left in me for fury. After thinking you were dead, then realizing that you would live, I’m only capable of relief. We may have to start going to church now.”

“Church?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes. I prayed for a miracle, and you survived.”

I supposed that it was all rather miraculous, and I was more grateful for my life than I’d ever been after the ordeal, but I had more questions. “Was my father on something? He took so much damage, and still he kept coming.” I spoke slowly and carefully. Speaking would be rough for a while, and I knew that my words were hard to understand.

Justin nodded. “Yes. He was on several somethings. Some mix of crystal meth and bath salts. Your father ambushed Henry, then beat him to death with a large rock a few blocks from your house. He took his gun, and walked to your house. He jumped the fence in back and landed on Paterson, who shot him. He shot him back, a point blank shot to the chest. They said it killed Paterson almost instantly, partially because of the type of bullets in the gun, and the range of the shot.”

“Blake confronted him, and shot him again in the chest. They deduced that this made him drop his gun. He then picked up Paterson’s gun. This was a smaller gun, with lighter ammo, and what he shot all three of you with, which is most likely why you survived. Henry’s gun is the one that Stephan found and used to shoot your father in the head. Let’s just say that gun had more effect on a giant, drug-crazed man, especially since Stephan had such unerring aim. The bodyguards were trained to shoot for the heart, but Stephan went for a headshot.”

I nodded, thankful that he’d given me a full explanation, but devastated by all of the senseless loss. “Those poor men.”

Justin nodded gravely. “Yes, I know. So much went wrong. It’s hard to imagine that one man wreaked so much havoc when he was outnumbered like that, but they say the mix of drugs gave him a superhuman burst of strength. None of us considered that possibility, much to my everlasting regret.”

I squeezed his hand, which enveloped mine warmly. I searched his beautiful eyes, knowing that he felt a crushing guilt like I did. “I’m so sorry, Justin. If I’d had any ide—“

“Don’t,” he interrupted. He gentled his voice, and his eyes. “Please don’t. We can’t take anything back, just as we couldn’t have seen the future. All we can do is be thankful that it wasn’t worse. When I first set foot into that backyard, I was convinced that my worst nightmare had come to fruition. I’ll never stop being grateful that you survived that. We are unspeakably lucky that there weren’t more lives lost. All three of you were critical just days ago, and are now on the road to recovery.”

It was several days before Stephan was moved from the ICU, and we were both awake to see each other. We had a teary-eyed reunion, clutching hands and sobbing like babies.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t recover,” I gasped.

He gave a strangled half-laugh, half-sob. “You were afraid? I watched him shoot you in the head. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from the sight.”

I winced at the visual. “But you saved me.”

“Always, Buttercup,” he said, squeezing my hand hard. “Always.”

He continued, quickly switching to a lighter topic. “Would it be tacky for me to get engaged just over a week after you did?”

I looked around for Javier, taken aback at the question. We were completely alone, even Justin giving us a moment of privacy.

“You’re engaged?” I questioned.

He shook his head, wearing his most boyish grin. “No, but I want to propose. I wanted to get your blessing first.”

I gave him an exasperated look, then laughed. “Yes. If you want to be silly and ask for my blessing, then you have it. Always. Nothing would make me happier.”

“It’s going to be smooth sailing from here on out, Selena. We’ve earned it.”

I returned his carefree smile, hoping that he might be right.

Epilogue

NEARLY ONE YEAR LATER

I took deep breaths. I counted. I made my whole body relax. I was nervous—very nervous, and skittish, but much less so, than I’d thought I would be for this day.

“Deep breaths, Buttercup,” Stephan said gently. I couldn’t look at him today. He, more than anyone, made me emotional today. There was just so much joy in his eyes, so much barely suppressed excitement. It made me want to bawl like a baby and I had just sat through a painstakingly elaborate makeup process. Not to mention that my goal for the day was not to lose it in front of four hundred wedding guests.

“If you make her mess up her make-up right now, I will kick you,” Lana told him, but her tone was pure affection. Stephan and Lana had taken to each other like, well—like Stephan and I. She threatened to steal him from me nearly every time the three of us got together.

Lana looked stunning, of course, in a lavender dress that made those astonishing purple eyes stand out even more. She’d picked the color. As was her custom, she’d taken over that entire part of the process. I hadn’t balked. On the contrary, I’d only been relieved. This sort of event was well out of my area of expertise. I had never been the girl who dreamed of this, let alone ever thought of planning one of the things. I had gratefully taken all of the help I could get.

“Selena, you should know that I’ve been put on guard duty by your determined bridegroom. He said that if you tried to run, I would get to tackle you.”

That made me laugh, and relieved some of the tension, as it was meant to.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this,” she continued. “But I have quite the reputation as a kick-ass fighter in Maui, so I wouldn’t test me if I were you.”

Not only had someone told me that story, everyone had. Lana’s Tutu, and her auntie, and even Akira loved to tell that story in great detail, and often. One girl fight and they thought she was the lightweight champ…

Lana wasn’t finished, but she’d moved on from Stephan and me. She had an elegant finger pointed at the two mischievous pixies who wore gowns that matched her own. “And you. The Debauched Duo. You had better stay away from my brother at the reception. I saw the way you were eyeing him. Don’t even think about it. I have plans for him that involve him finally settling down, and the two of you wouldn’t know settled if it invited you to a threesome!”

They just giggled, completely unfazed.

“We already bagged that one,” Marnie gasped.

“Double teamed him after the rehearsal dinner!” Judith said.

“He was awesome,” Marnie added.

Lana rubbed her temples. “Oh, God! I don’t know who’s more hopeless. Him or you two?”

“Them,” Jessa added from where she was getting her hair finished up. “I’ve known them for years. Definitely them.”

“They told me a story about seducing a priest one time,” Danika told Lana, giving her a sympathetic look. “Your brother is easy, but these two are nymphos. So if we’re talking hopeless, I vote them.”

“I swear I saw them eyeing up the minister that’s performing the nuptials,” Sophia added helpfully, adjusting the sleeve of her own lavender gown.

“I’m almost positive they were trying to hit on my dad last night, before they disappeared with Lana’s brother,” Jackie added from where she was working on my hem. I glanced down at her as she continued. “My poor father’s been a widower for five years, and he’s approaching sixty. They could have given him a heart attack.”

Marnie and Judith just giggled, enjoying the banter.

It all helped. I needed distraction. It wasn’t that I had doubts about Justin. I was sure of him, sure that I needed him, and that he was good for me. It was just the actual marriage part that got me scared. And the over the top wedding, which had started out so small, wasn’t helping. It had just sort of built into this thing that I couldn’t control anymore, though I wasn’t sure I ever could have. We should have eloped…

I never thought I’d be that person with more bridesmaids than I could keep track of, but there it was. I had opened my heart to more than Stephan, and it had opened like a dam breaking. There were so many people that I valued in my life now. My heart was no longer a block of ice with one thawed part just for Stephan. It was warm in my chest now. I was alive as I never could have been if I hadn’t met Justin. He had been right from the start. We were made for each other, and he had made me a better woman, a more complete one, when I’d let him into my heart.

I had calmed considerably by the time Javier peeked his head into the room.

We had decided on an outdoor wedding in the late spring, because we both loved the idea of a wedding amidst blooming flowers. Justin had chosen Wyoming, insisting that there was no other place we could have our vows, since this was where he swore I’d fallen in love with him. He claimed that I’d fallen for his mind-boggling equestrian skills first… I hadn’t been able to change his mind on that idea—I’d even admitted to him just how quickly I really had fallen for him, but he heard none of it. I didn’t really mind. I couldn’t think of a place I’d have preferred for such a beautiful day.

The ranch had been transformed for the big event, a huge clearing at the front of the house painstakingly perfected for the ceremony. It was a vision of tall grass and wildflowers, well-groomed where the guests were seated, with flowers planted all along the perimeter, but the rest left running wild with riotous white and violet wildflowers.

Large tents had been set up on the side of the property for the reception that would follow.

One of the living areas near the front of the house had been turned into my bridal party’s prep station. The groomsmen waited just outside, in the light-filled foyer, for the bridesmaids.

“Showtime,” Javier told us, grinning.

Stephan and Javier had been more impulsive than we had, and had already gotten married over Christmas. They’d had a gorgeous commitment ceremony in Bali, with a reception afterwards that had turned into a four-day long party with all of their closest friends. The entire trip had been magical, and I’d never seen two happier newlyweds. Even several months later, they were both still glowing with it.

Stephan was happier than I’d ever seen him. Two months ago, he’d even been contacted by one of his sisters. She had just turned eighteen, and moved away for college. She’d found him on Facebook, sending him an earnest message about wanting to meet him. She had apologized for the way he’d been treated by their family, though of course she’d been too young at the time to have anything to do with the way things had happened. Stephan had told me that they were getting to know each other slowly, but that they were chatting nearly every day now.

Javier blew us a kiss before letting the door swing back closed on him. He’d ended up as part of the groom’s party. Dividing our friends had turned into quite the debate. We’d had a row over who would get Stephan. The very idea had made me furious.

In the end, we’d decided on gender-bending wedding parties, with Frankie as Justin’s best woman, and Stephan as my best man. It only made sense. Justin had argued that he should get Lana, and I’d made a case for myself getting Javier, but in the end we’d let them choose, so Javier was a groomsmen, and Lana was mine. I knew it was a sign of how blessed we were, that our friends were so intertwined that they belonged to us both.

One of the biggest wedding party upheavals was kneeling at my feet, fretting about some minor detail on the hem of my gown. Jackie had taken some getting used to, but I’d more than gotten used to her. Our friendship had grown over countless thoughtful little notes that she’d left in my closet. Lana had been so right about her—that she needed to be challenged. Something in her nature held a constant need for it, and I didn’t mind obliging. First, I’d insisted on only wearing up and coming designers’ clothes for months, which had made her want to pull her hair out, but I saw that she grew to love the idea, the discovery of new designers presenting that challenge that she craved.

She’d learned to respect me, and as that respect had budded, so had our friendship. And when we’d begun to hunt for my wedding gown, it had grown into a bonafide bond. I’d realized that I had room in my heart for another sister.

Jackie and I hadn’t taken to each other right away, but you wouldn’t know it now. As she’d obsessed over finding the perfect dress, I’d begun to tell her little details that I might like for a gown, and she had added her own persistent suggestions. When she’d begun to make elaborate sketches for the elusive dress, I’d been impressed with her vision, and made the offhanded suggestion that she should design it herself. She’d taken that suggestion to heart, and designed the perfect gown for me. I knew by her talent, and the way the task seemed to fulfill her, that it wouldn’t be her last.

The women began to file from the room, giving me encouraging looks before they left. The looks made me feel a bit like a crazy woman, since they told me clearly that everyone was still a little afraid that I would turn into a runaway bride.

Stephan and I peeked our heads around the corner to catch a glimpse of the altar.

Justin already stood there, looking too perfect to be real in a sharply tailored tuxedo. He wore the classic black jacket and trouser, with an off-white silk shirt, vest, and tie. His hair was styled artfully out of his face. Frankie stood next to him, decked out in her own sexy version of a tux.

He saw us looking and grinned. He knew I’d be nervous for this, just as I knew that he wouldn’t. We shared one of those complex looks that said we understood each other. His look took the form of an indulgent smile, and mine was a bit of a pained grimace. I ducked back into the room.

In addition to being my best man, Stephan was walking me down the aisle. That one hadn’t even been a question. He wore a tux that was nearly identical to Justin’s, but with a lavender silk tie. He kept an eye out for our cue to go, naming off the bridal party as they walked, and keeping me up to date on every detail, Stephan style.

“First is Elliot. He’s got the ring on top of his head, and he’s hopping.”

I giggled.

“Now it’s Parker and Sophia. They’re right on his tail, in case he runs off. Oops, he made a dash… No, he’s okay now. I think he was just faking them out.”

We shared a grin. Elliot was too adorable.

“Next up are Lana and Akira. He looks mean as ever, and she is the picture of elegance. Seeing them side by side, they just make sense, but you’d have to see it to believe it, since they’re so dissimilar.”

I had to agree with that observation.

“Now it’s Murphy and Judith. They actually look like they’re trying to behave themselves. I was expecting a little dance down the aisle, YouTube style.”

“Murphy asked me if he could dance, and I said I didn’t mind, as long as no one expected me to,” I said.

“Oh, well, there he goes. They’re doing that shuffle dance. It definitely looks like they practiced.” We shared a laugh.

“And now Javier and Marnie,” Stephan continued. “He looks sexy as hell, and he just winked at me as he passed the door. Now it’s Jessa and Damien. They have huge smiles on their faces.”

He paused watching, his smile fading just a touch. “Next up are Tristan and Danika. It hurts my heart to see those two around each other.”

I knew just what he meant. There was still such a feeling of unresolved issues when the two of them got together. Danika hadn’t been thrilled with the pairing, but she’d been a good sport about it. Always, though, she treated Tristan with cool civility.

“Sven Jr. and Adele are up. They look very model-y.”

“Is that a real word?” I asked playfully.

“Sure. Last up are Jackie and Camden,” he continued. “He just gave her a roguish smile, and she took his arm without sparing him a glance. They make a strange pairing.”

I had to agree. Lana’s brother, Camden, was the opposite of Jackie in just about every way I could think of. He was tall and muscular, with wavy golden hair like his sister, and those same startling violet eyes. He dwarfed the tiny figure of Jackie, and was as playful as she was serious.

Stephan stepped back from the open doorway when the last couple had departed, moving quickly to adjust my skirt, smoothing out my short lace train.

The dress had turned out exquisitely. It was pale cream, with intricate gold-threaded lace, and lush detailing along every inch. It was sleeveless, with a high-collared neckline of sheerest lace, so sheer that my locked-on choker was clearly visible underneath. Jackie’d had the enterprising idea of cutting a hole out for the hoop in the collar, and it had worked perfectly. My choker looked like part of the dress. Underneath I wore a plain white, strapless sheath that came to just above my knees. The lace gown overlaying that was longer, the hem touching the floor, the train trailing lightly behind me. I’d had to be talked into a train, and we’d finally compromised on one that no one would have to carry for me.

He handed me my large bouquet. It was a lovely mix of violet lilies, purple roses, and tidy little white calla lilies. The same flowers had been interwoven into a wreath on my head, showcasing my long hair, which had been painstakingly curled into ringlets that hung down my back.

He touched my cheek lightly, a world of joy in his twinkling blue eyes, before offering me his arm. We began our slow-paced walk down the flower-lined aisle, the sun at our backs, our movements synched from years of perfect accord.

Justin was a jealous man, the most possessive man I’d ever met. I doubted that there was a thing about me that he didn’t consider his. But he had never made me choose, never made me question or compromise one thing about my relationship with Stephan. He had only accepted, as much as that acceptance must have gone against all of his natural inclinations. I thought that was perhaps the surest sign of his love for me—that he would so obviously put my needs before his own. His love was such a beautiful thing, always so perfectly suited to my own needs, and so unselfish in its way.

He’d made me a believer. We’d been together for nearly a year now, and I was well and truly convinced that we really were made for each other. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty close.

I had thought that looking at Stephan would make me lose it today, but as we drew closer, I realized that the look in Mr. Beautiful’s eyes would be my real undoing. He didn’t bother to hide from our guests those tender eyes that he had just for me. No one there could doubt that he was crazy about me. I didn’t know how I’d ever doubted it myself. Though I had seen the world with different eyes back then. How could I have known that I was being swept into my very own fairytale? I’d never believed in such things.

Stephan handed me to Justin when we got into reach. Justin gave me his softest smile, one hand rising to brush the one lone tear that had managed to make its way silently down my cheek.

Abruptly, he pulled me close and kissed me. It lasted long enough, and held enough passion, to draw loud cheers and guffaws from the crowd, and one loudly cleared throat from the minister. I was breathless as he pulled back with a wicked smile.

“It was that or drag you into the nearest room. I couldn’t have you wearing that kissable look for the entire ceremony and not address it,” he murmured to me, shameless as ever.

I was still recovering as the minister began to speak. I let the official words wash over me, my eyes steady, if a little moist, on my love’s.

“We are gathered here today to take part in the most time-honored celebration of the human family, uniting this man and woman in marriage,” the minister began.

I listened to each word of the ceremony carefully, trying to take it all in, but my eyes didn’t waver from his.

We recited our vows, and my voice was as steady as I could make it for my own part. We had opted for short, traditional ones, because I had a strong aversion to public speaking.

Tears ran silently down my cheeks for a lot of it, but Justin held it together for the most part. That is, right until the end, when the minister was reciting a small part that Justin had wanted to add.

The minister read, quoting the Benediction of the Apaches.

“Now you will feel no rain,

For each of you will be shelter to the other.

Now you will feel no cold,

For each of you will be warmth to the other.

Now there is no more loneliness for you.”

His gaze never wavered from mine, even as they filled with tears, the tears swiftly overflowing, running down his cheeks before the minister had finished the line.

I reached up and softly wiped them away with my hands. It was only fair. He had been quietly drying my tears through the entire ceremony.

“For each of you will be companion to the other.

Now you are two bodies,

But there is only one life before you.”

There were a few more lines in that lovely addition to the vows, but I barely heard them as I watched my bridegroom’s trembling lips form the words, “I love you,” in a hushed whisper.

Vaguely, I heard the famous line about kissing the bride, but I hadn’t even registered the words before Justin was pulling me against him in a soft, sweet kiss. It was a kiss full of finesse, and held a promise of forever. My own lips answered that promise eagerly.

I gasped and let out an embarrassed little screech as he suddenly lifted me high in the air. He laughed, spinning me.

My hands gripped his shoulders as his eyes laughed into mine.

“We did it, Love,” he told me softly, his voice filled with quiet wonder. “You’re mine, forever, Mrs. Cavendish.”

I shook my head at him as he lowered me slowly back to the ground. His joy was infectious, and I was quickly laughing with him. “You’re insane. I’ve been yours all along, Mr. Cavendish.”

5 YEARS LATER

I awoke to the strangest sensation in my lower regions, which had grown almost numb over the past few weeks.

I patted the hand that was wrapped around my middle. “Justin,” I gasped.

I felt him tense against me, instantly awake. “Is it time, Selena?”

I bit my lip, mortified. “I don’t know. Either my water just broke or I wet myself.”

The bastard laughed, and I elbowed him hard. He was up and at my side of the bed, grinning like a loon, between one second and the next. He studied my wet legs and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, as embarrassed as I’d ever been in my life.

“Did my water break?” I asked him.

He continued to study me, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to tell. You can’t tell?”

I shrugged, miserable. “It’s all just numb at the moment.” I swallowed, hating to ask. “Will you smell it?”

He wasn’t offended. He never was. He was the most dutiful of husbands for a first time pregnant mess of a woman.

I couldn’t look at him as he tentatively checked.

“No scent. I think we’re having our baby, Love.”

We both knew what to do, and Justin sprang into action, but I couldn’t seem to move at first, overwhelmed at the thought that the next time we came back here, we would be bringing a baby home with us.

I heard Justin talking on his phone in the closet. “Stephan. It’s time. You have five minutes to meet us at the car, or else you’ll have to meet us at the hospital.” He paused. “Very sure. Her water broke. We all get to meet our baby today.”

He was back at my side a few moments later, already dressed. I wasn’t much help as he pulled off my nightgown, and slipped a comfortable frock over my head.

“Can you stand?” he asked gently.

I nodded, and stood slowly, feeling ungainly. Justin helped me, his strong arms keeping me steady until I could stand on my own.

He knelt at my feet, using a wet cloth to clean me, and changing my underwear without a word. He wrapped an arm around my waist, the other firmly holding my arm, as he led me down the stairs, and to the garage.

Clark and Blake were waiting for us beside a large black SUV. We had packed for the hospital months ago, courtesy of Control Freak Cavendish, so I was relieved not to have to worry about it just then.

Justin made sure I was comfortably ensconced and securely buckled in before he got in himself. My huge belly had made everything difficult lately, and I’d never appreciated his unending solicitude more than I had during the trials of pregnancy.

Clark backed the car out, getting just outside of the colossal garage before stopping, a huge grin on his face as he glanced back at us. “The guys made it,” he told us.

I glanced behind the car, seeing our two favorite neighbors booking it across the property, Stephan leaving Javier in the dust on his way to our car.

Justin and I shared a happy smile.

Seconds later Stephan was getting into the car, breathless and shooting me concerned looks. He climbed into the row of seats behind us, moving directly behind me so he could kiss the top of my head before he sat.

“How are you? How’s our baby?” he asked me, looking at Justin.

Justin couldn’t stop grinning. “Our baby is ready to meet us today.”

I rubbed my belly, trying not to stress out about the ordeal to come. Justin saw my action, and bent down to kiss my belly, as he had countless times over the last eight and a half months. I stroked a hand over his silky hair.

Javier climbed into the car as Justin was still paying homage to my big belly. He smiled at the sight. “We won’t be seeing that quite so often after today,” he said.

I patted Justin on the head. “I’ll miss it,” I said softly.

He shifted so he could meet my eyes, his cheek still pressed softly to my belly. “We can do this as many times as you want, Mrs. Cavendish.”

We were ten minutes from the hospital, and it was a talkative car ride, so the drive went by in a flash, as did my admission into the hospital, expedited by my ungodly rich husband. They had me in a bed in what I figured had to be a record.

Dr. Lisa practically met us there, looking as though she hadn’t been dragged out of bed, though I knew that she had. She smiled at me reassuringly. “You’re going to be a mother today,” she told me, after a short examination.

It was a daunting thought.

Several harrowing hours later, more so for Justin than for me, I thought, and a little bundle of joy was placed in my arms.

I had been so sure that a child would open up old wounds—just rip apart the things inside of me that had never quite healed. Even after I’d been sure that I did want children, and even during the pregnancy, when I’d felt those first profound stirrings of the perfect love of a mother, I’d felt that doubt. There was no way that I could have known that seeing our son’s perfect face would have the opposite effect. It hadn’t ripped me open. It didn’t aggravate those wounds. Like my love for Justin, it only healed me. As Justin always said he had done with me, I fell in love with Duncan Stephan Cavendish at first sight.

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