Twisted Together

Chapter Thirteen

Matching darkness, mirroring light, truth and love we took flight,

one esclave and one maître, no longer captive or thief, just perfect certainty and belief

Franco’s phone rang.

I froze. Instincts screamed, slicing sharp fingernails of panic down the chalkboard of my spine.

The car turned from saviour, rushing us to Q’s aid, to a decaying coffin.

“Don’t—”

Franco glanced over, his vivid eyes dulling with horror. “I have no choice.” Shoving his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out the chiming doom.

Don’t let it be. Don’t.

We were almost there. The plane ride had driven me crazy—I would’ve sold my heart to be teleported or something to get us there faster. We’re so close!

It won’t be. It can’t be.

I couldn’t breathe as Franco held the phone to his ear. His face went deadly white. Not uttering a word, he passed the cell to me.

My fingers turned to ice-cubes; all I wanted to do was hurl the phone from the car window, smashing the bad news before it could be made real.

It’s not true.

He’s fine.

The phone was a vulture stealing my happiness as I placed it to my ear.

“Tess?” Frederick’s voice echoed all the way from Paris.

My heart went from beating to nothing. His tone said all I needed to know. I couldn’t move. Locked in my chair, I became a statue of grief.

Frederick sucked in a shaky breath. “You there? Tess?”

I knew.

I knew why he called. It didn’t matter we were ten minutes away. It didn’t matter we had an army behind us. It didn’t fucking matter. None of it.

Because my maître was gone.

I’d felt it.

An empty hollowness inside—gaping wide, cavernous.

“Don’t, Frederick.”

A long pause. No one spoke, breathed, lived. The world shut down forever.

“I’m so sorry, Tess…the frequency. It stopped.”

My heart replicated his words—turning from living to stone. The dawn on the horizon mocked me with a new beginning when I no longer had one.

My finger went to the reject button, cutting the call just as Frederick whispered, “He’s dead.”

He’s dead.

He’s gone.

He left without me.

Very slowly with infinite control, I passed the phone to Franco. He took it, brushing his fingers with mine. “Tess…”

I recoiled. I didn’t want anyone touching me. No one. Never again. Loving was a weakness. Touch was an annihilation. Q had destroyed me.

He’s gone.

The words pierced my heart with a thousand needles, puncturing my soul. He’s gone.

Everything inside—all the goodness, happiness, hopefulness…everything shrivelled up. My will to live turned to black ash, sifting from my pours like dirty rain. Everything I’d been through. It’d all been pointless.

He fucking left me.

Bastard.

Anger was better than grief. It filled the cavernous hole, giving me something to latch onto.

The toll had taken its final debt. In return for Q’s fortune, I’d been taxed too high. I’d been turned into a destitute widow.

He’s dead.

“Tess, it’s—” Franco gathered me in his arms, tugging me into his muscular bulk. I wanted to attack him. I couldn’t control the rapidly heating, freezing, churning, storm gathering inside.

I was sad. Then angry. Then weak. Then furious.

Shoving Franco away, I snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

The streetlights clicked off, giving way to the watery pink light of a new day. A new day without Q. A lifetime without Q.

Franco pulled something from his pocket. He smoothed the paper, holding it out. “He made me promise to give you this if…”

My body stiffened.

“If what? He thought he’d die? He planned for his death?”

Why did he make you sign the will?Everything—it’s all yours. He’d bequeathed everything to me. And he’d done it so fast…almost as if he operated against time.

I stole the letter. Tearing it open, I swallowed bubbles of rageful tears.

Tess,

If you’re reading this, then I guess…well, I don’t need to put it into words. You know what’s happened. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t leave you willingly. I know I have no right to ask this of you—but you can’t undo my hard work. Promise me you’ll keep living, esclave. Promise me you’ll stay alive. Franco knows what to do. Frederick will walk you through the future plans when you’re ready.

There really isn’t much else to say. I love you so fucking much. Never forget that. Never forget the connection we shared, or the knowledge I’m waiting for you. Somewhere.

Je suis à toi—

I scrunched the letter up, throwing it on the floor in a fit of temper. There was more. More promises. More requests. More declarations of undying devotions.

But I couldn’t read anymore. Lies. All of it.

Q had left me. He had no rights to me anymore. He had no right to make me promise not to enter my tower. He had no fucking right to ask me to continue living without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t.

It’s not over.

My eyes narrowed, staring dry and tearless at the passing view. Q was dead. I’d paid my unpayable debt and now I wanted interest. I wanted what they’d stolen from me. I wanted a life for a life.

My anger filled the car interior with swirling silver rage. “I want to make them pay. I want to give them everything they deserve.”

I’m going to show them how it feels to die slowly. How it feels to be soulless.

Franco took a while to reply, picking up Q’s letter and placing it on the seat beside us. The presence of Q’s penmanship and final thoughts took up space—filling the vehicle with his merciless love. He’d taken everything from me. My heart. My mind. My soul.

I would never forgive him for that.

“We’ll make them pay,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

My mind stained red. All the fight inside to remain good and pure disappeared. I threw myself headfirst into blackness. I accepted my life had changed forever. I had no intention of staying alive without him.

I would follow Q. It was the only option. Die or live an eternity locked in a tower unfeeling. I couldn’t survive this unsurmountable grief. I couldn’t let it consume me because if I did I would be washed away forever.

I had work to do before I died.

I had vengeance to deliver.

Violence. Blood. Screams. I wanted it all. I would make Q proud. I would avenge him.

You stole him from me.

You stole any chance of a happy life.

I was beyond angry. I was catatonic with rage. Tears had no place in the black void I existed in. Only greed—greed for killing. I would steal more than their lives in return.

I would steal their murderous souls.

Our convoy of killers gathered ranks outside the high hedges ringing the hellhole where my maître had died.

It didn’t matter the sun sparkled, turning the world into a better place. All I saw was darkness. All I lived was darkness. All I wanted was death.

He’s gone. But I’m going to join him.

Franco shattered my single-mindedness, dragging me back to an existence I no longer wanted to live.

Grabbing my hand, he forcibly curled my fingers around a gun. Squeezing me hard, his face shone with ruthlessness and pain. His injuries drained him, but he survived on bloodlust—same as me.

“Promise me, whatever happens in there. You come out alive. Don’t be reckless. He wouldn’t want that.”

I promise to be reckless. I promise to ignore everything Q wants because he left me.

Q was gone. There would be no wedding. There would be no happiness.

Why would I agree to survive in a Q-less world?

I was done fighting. I was ready to join my master in a place that wouldn’t tear us apart. I was done living in fear and terror—expecting the worst. I was done living.

But first—I would paint the sprawling villa in blood.

“I promise.” The obvious lie hung like a filthy cloud. Franco scowled.

I hefted the weight of the weapon, counting the victims I wished I’d killed. Q had stolen that right, too. He’d killed on my behalf. Now it was my turn.

Leather Jacket.

White Man.

Jagged Scar.

All of them dead at his hand. Lynx was mine. Lynx was dead already and I rejoiced knowing I’d taken his soul. I no longer had any aversion to killing. This was right. They deserved to die. And I would gladly buy a ticket to hell in order to grant closure to my pain.

He’s gone.

But soon, I would join him.

Franco sighed. “Let Blair and his team go in first. I’ve assigned Vincent to go in with you, seeing as I’ll be hobbling.” Pinching my chin, forcing my vacant eyes to meet his, he added, “I’ll protect your life with my own—just like I did him. But you have to stay alive in order for me to do that. He wouldn’t want you to—”

My stomach churned. “Don’t tell me what he wanted, Franco. He’s lost that right because he’s dead.”

Franco blanched. “Tess—you can’t let this—”

“Can’t let it what? Kill me? Ruin me? You expect me to roll into a ball and cry my heart out? I’m past being told what I can and can’t do. Stay out of my way, Franco. Let me find peace my way. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.” Clutching my gun, I snapped, “Leave me the hell alone!”

His face darkened but understanding crossed his features. “I know the rage you’re feeling. I know it’s swallowing you whole. But, Tess—don’t run in the opposite direction of who you are.”

I growled low and long. “Shut up. Just shut up!”

You know Q wouldn’t want this.

I shut myself up. I didn’t want any thoughts or doubts. I wanted to stay in the clean clarity of vengeance.

Franco patted my shoulder. “I get it. I do. And I won’t say anymore. But if you do this, you will never run from fear again.”

I stroked my gun, counting the seconds till I could fire it. “If I do this, I become fear.” I locked eyes with him. “I’ll no longer be afraid. They’ll be afraid of me.” I’d never be a victim again because I would no longer have anything precious to tear from me. I was empty. I would stay empty until I died.

In a way that gave me power. Unlimited power I intended to wield on them. They’d turned me into a monster. They’d turned me into Q.

“I agree.” Placing a hand on mine, he murmured, “Just don’t forget you’re human, too.”

I ignored the hidden messages. I didn’t pay attention to the hint that I shouldn’t throw myself completely into my murderous rage. I didn’t care if I lost myself. There was no one waiting for me to return this time.

A man in black military wear broke away from the milling shadows of Q’s entourage. Coming toward us, he moved with stealthy confidence. His hands were free but two guns rested on his hips; multiple knives hung across his chest in a scabbard. Pulling the black beanie further over his blond hair, he said, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Another man, taller with a rifle slung over his shoulder, appeared with a stick. Passing it to Franco, he grinned wryly. “Never provided a walking cane to go into a rampage but I think you need some help getting about.”

I wanted to throw up. Jokes! They were making jokes?

How can they? Tears sprang up my spine, clawing their way painfully through my coldheartedness. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want caustic healing in the form of tears. Empty. Stay empty.

Franco bared his teeth. “Get that piece of shit away from me. I’m doped up to my eyeballs with painkillers. I can run while I don’t feel it.”

The man tossed the stick to the verge. “Your funeral.”

The image of Franco dead cleaved my wounded heart. No, I wouldn’t let anyone else die. I was done losing people I cared for.

“You’re not coming,” I whispered. A whisper was the only decibel I dared converse at. Everything inside boiled like a pressure cooker, building and building, steaming and steaming until my anger frothed and overflowed. The next time I spoke loudly, I would explode.

And I would murder the man who’d killed Q. I would be cataclysmic.

Franco shook his head. “I’m coming. The moment we find Mercer, I’ll crash, but until we have him, I’m not stopping.” Pointing at the two men, he ordered, “Blair, you’re to go in first with five men. Do the preliminary sweep, clear any threats. Peter, you’re in charge of Beta squad, head in two minutes after Alpha. Round up any slaves, staff, non-immediate threats to be sorted later.” His eyes fell on me. “I’ll bring up the rear with Vincent and Tess.”

“Roger.” The two men, one black-haired, and one blond, nudged knuckles before fading back to their teams to relay the orders.

He’s trying to protect me.

Too bad. I wanted to be on the frontline. I wanted risk and danger. I wanted something to hurl this rage onto.

My heart fizzled with anger. “I’m not going in last.”

Franco frowned. “You are. You’ll still have your revenge, Tess. But this is the safest way. You’re the owner of everything Q built. Don’t ruin his legacy by killing yourself.”

The way he ruined me by dying?

I gritted my teeth, cuddling my gun as if it was my only lifeline. “You can’t stop the inevitable,” I mumbled so only the wind heard me.

Franco froze. “What did you just say?”

The inevitable will happen—I’m going to find him—where he’s waiting for me.

“Nothing.”

The first team, all dressed in identical black gear, armed with every arsenal available, darted out behind the hedges, heading toward the large driveway.

No! Wait.

I wouldn’t hang back like a helpless woman. I deserved to mow down the killers of my lover. It was my right.

Out of everything Q had done to smash my tower—it was his death that finally released me from the rubble. The bricks, always teasing with erecting, had magically disappeared. My mind was a wasteland—completely grey and barren. I was exposed to every emotion and I only felt one.

“Esclave, don’t do this. Remember everything I did.”

Q’s beautiful face consumed me—his strength, his smile.

But then he morphed and changed.

His vibrant eyes covered with a filmy white.

His tattoo hung off him in tatters.

Oxygen turned to reeking dust. My hollow heart rapidly filled with grief. It oozed through me, stealing my anger every second I stood doing nothing.

Not yet.

I refused to break down.

Not yet.

The last man disappeared; I couldn’t stand still any longer. I took a step toward the driveway.

Franco imprisoned my elbow. “No. You’re going in with me. Three, four minutes, Tess. Patience.”

Three or four minutes. That was an eternity. Time had stolen Q from me. Only minutes from our arrival, and the heartless bitch decided it was too many minutes too long. In another few minutes I might be useless with sorrow.

I obeyed time no longer.

My legs itched. My lungs gulped air. I prepared for battle.

Run.

Run. Run!

I took off.

“Tess, no!” Franco tried to grab me, but his broken body was no match for my quick paced rage.

I careened around the hedge, flying toward the open door. The soft puffs of silenced guns broke the hushed virginity of the morning.

The massive granite pillars glittered in the sunlight. Pansies and merry flowers bordered the doorstep, looking innocent, harbouring evil inside. The disguise was good. But I knew the truth.

They would die. All of them.

My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t stutter. I leapt over the threshold, trading sun for shadows.

“Tess!” Franco yelled.

I didn’t stop. This was the beginning of my anarchy.

The décor was all red and black and morbid. Q’s team crawled through rooms, dispatching traitors with a scope and trigger. Their black attire made them look like spiders, casting a web of retaliation, taking over their prey.

“Clear!” someone yelled, followed by a gunshot to the right. I didn’t know where to look. Men’s shouts sounded—then cut short. Running footsteps stomped—then thudded to a halt.

All around me men died—dispatched with precise coordination.

They stole my right! They took away my destiny—ending the men’s existence before I could.

The crackle of someone’s walkie-talkie slammed me into motion. They may have killed a household of bastards, but they hadn’t found Q. No alarm sounded—no raised voices.

Q was still missing—and I knew his killer would be with him.

Raising the gun, I hunted.

Time lost meaning as I sank deep inside myself—tapping into instincts and heightened senses I never knew I possessed. I embraced the animalistic part—switching off humanity, thirsting for blood.

I prowled room after room.

Stripper poles and couches in one. Cinema and media in another. Kitchen. Bathroom. Office.

Bodies. I stepped over countless corpses from the efficiency of Q’s team. Clean shots to either forehead or heart. Their vacant open eyes didn’t raise my heartbeat or garner any emotion but hatred; deep seated hatred kindling in my chest where my heart used to be.

“Tess, you’re not listening to me. Stop this—before it’s too late. I can’t save you again.” Q’s voice threaded with my conscience.

You can’t save me because you’re dead.

Shaking my head, ridding the craziness brewing inside, I entered a bedroom. And slammed to a halt.

Dark, dingy, not a dungeon, but not far off. Bunk beds lined each of the four walls. The lack of windows, and dampness from the floor, settled fast into my bones.

I sat on a threadbare mattress, looking around my new home. Girls huddled on each bed. All of them wore an aura of tragedy, eyes bruised with loss, skin painted with injuries and shadows.

A man loomed over me, his beard black and gross. Reaching behind him, he bared a knife.

The flashback of Mexico interlinked with the image in front of me. Bars across the windows, mattresses on the floor, women bound and gagged.

Two members of Franco’s team helped the six girls from a variety of horrible positions. Some were collared to the wall, others were tied to poles, slouching painfully.

Their naked bodies showed numerous evidence of abuse. Tortured. Raped.

Not anymore.

Now they were free.

My eyes stung. Q had saved yet more women—more birds—and he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of returning them to loved ones.

It’s your vocation now—embrace his love of birds and focus on nurturing rather than death.

My fist trembled around the gun. I couldn’t.

Bastards.

Devils.

I had to finish this. Whirling from the room, I ran. I needed to be far away—it threatened to unravel my hatred, dissolving me with tears.

I circled back to the front of the house, searching for a victim—any victim to transfer this rage onto.

My eyes fell on a staircase going down.

He’s close. My instincts sounded an alarm, purring with knowledge. Down there. Go.

I took a step, only to be wrenched to a stop. “Bloody hell, Tess. What were you thinking?” Franco swayed, breathing hard. “I’ve been limping all over the fucking house. It’s not safe. There could be anyone hiding, waiting to kill you.”

I don’t care.

“Let me go, Franco.” I pointed down the stairs. “He’s down there. I know it.”

Franco’s face whitened. “Let Alpha team go down. You don’t want to see if you’re right.”

“You’re wrong. I do want to see. I want to know what they did, so I can do the same.”

I need to see he’s really dead. I need to see the truth.

Franco shook his head. “Tess—this isn’t you. Stop it.”

I tore my arm from his grip. “You don’t know me! Stop pretending like you care. Your boss is dead, and I don’t want you to interfere. Go away.” I hated my cruelness, but nothing would stop me from finding Q.

Franco stood locked to the landing.

Not looking back, I darted down the stairs. I held the gun high, my finger teasing the trigger.

My first kill happened too fast to remember.

A shadow. A blur. A shout. A curse.

Bang.

I no longer teased the trigger but compressed it, letting loose a killing projectile.

The man dressed in a black suit crumbled to the floor, holding a gushing wound in his neck. “Fucking, bit—bitch.” His eyes narrowed to slits even as his arteries dumped litres of blood down his lapels.

I waited for a rush of sickness. I waited to feel different for doing something so barbaric, but I felt nothing.

Standing over him, I hissed, “Where is he? Tell me where he is.”

The man gurgled, holding the wound tightly. “Wh—who are you?”

Ice lived in my blood as I crouched over him. “I’m your worst nightmare.” Placing the gun against his crotch, I whispered, “I think you used this on trafficked women. I think you deserve more pain before you die.”

He let his neck go, drenching his body in blood. “No! Wait!” He pushed feebly at the gun. “Don’t!”

A silenced puff and his head snapped back, falling into death.

What?

A strong hand plucked me from the floor. I swivelled in their hold, glowering at my captor. Franco held a silenced pistol awkwardly in his bandaged hand.

“How dare you. He was mine to kill!”

“And you did. He was seconds away from death.”

“Why didn’t you let me finish it?”

“Because you’ve taken his life. You might be able to live with that—but torturing, that fucks you up, Tess. And I won’t let you do that to yourself.”

“I’m not weak. Stop treating me like I am.”

Franco glared into my eyes. “You’re not weak. I agree. You’re strong—strong enough for Q and everything he gave you—but I made a promise to him. He made me swear I wouldn’t let you slip away, hurt yourself, or do anything to jeopardise your commitment to him and his company.”

“You don’t own me. You can’t do that.”

Don’t stop me from doing what I need!.

He shook his head. “I don’t own you but Q does. He may be gone, Tess, but you’re still his. You still have to obey—same as me.” Sighing he said softly, “I’ll let you kill Lynx, but I’ll do the rest. My soul can handle it—yours can’t.”

It can. Because this time my victims aren’t innocent.

Yanking me behind him, granting a protective wall of his body, he advanced down the black-tiled corridor. “Believe me. When the shock hits—when you finally let yourself feel, you’ll thank me.” Motioning with his gun, he muttered, “No more talking. Let’s go.”

I shoved him. “Let me go first. Don’t steal this from me, Franco. I need to do this.”

I need to avenge him.

“Shut up. I won’t let you go first, so stop.” His body was unmovable, blocking me from danger.

Gritting my teeth, I had no choice but to obey. His pace was agonisingly slow. A shuffle, a limp, but he did things I wouldn’t have done—scanned each doorway, tried every doorknob, making sure it was locked and no one would ambush us. “You’ll have your wish. I won’t take that from you. Just let me protect you while you do it.”

I wanted action. I wanted carnage. But it was silent.

Ominously silent.

What did you hope—you’d hear him? That he would be alive, and you’d hear his voice?

My eyes swelled with tears—finally recognising my stupid hopes.

Yes.

I’d been hunting in denial. Beneath my rage and grief blazed a fine layer of hope. It cindered the rest of my emotions. The hollowness inside had been filled with some other feeling. I didn’t have a name—disbelief perhaps. My soul taunted me with a lie that he was dead.

I feel him.

Some ludicrous part believed he was still alive. The connection we shared hadn’t been severed completely—it was there—weak, hazy, pulsing with darkness. But there.

And it ruined me further because hope was the cruellest emotion imaginable.

He’s dead. I couldn’t argue with that. No matter how much I wanted to.

Footsteps behind us.

I wheeled around, double fisting my gun.

The blond man in his beanie held up his hands. “We’re on your side, Mrs. Mercer.”

The title I wanted more than anything sent a bullet into my heart. I would never be Mrs. Mercer legally, but I would be in spirit. I was Q’s. Regardless of life or death.

Not saying a word, I spun around, following Franco.

The dark richness of the corridor ended up ahead. Lighting gave just enough visibility so as not to fumble, but it was hard to make out the last door. Heavy wood with bars on top. A dungeon door.

Franco looked over his shoulder, his forehead beaded with pain-induced sweat. “Voices up ahead.” He did some fancy finger moves to the team behind me.

I moved forward, sandwiched between the men. I hated that they’d formed ranks around me, protecting me when I didn’t want to be protected. I don’t want to be protected. Unless it was by Q.

Then I ceased all motor-control.

A noise.

A masculine groan, laced with agony.

Hope.

Glorious, sunbursting hope.

Q. I knew it. He’s alive. Not dead. Never dead.

Shoving Franco aside, I shot ahead. Franco cursed in pain as his missing thumb slammed against the wall in my haste. “Tess!” he bellowed. But I was already gone, racing toward the final door.

Be alive. Please be alive.

I had no knowledge of my safety as I collided with the wood, exploding into hell.

Chains. Water. Blackness.

My eyes took everything in at once—a panoramic shot of horror. Two men stood in front of a male carcass hanging from the ceiling. Naked, bleeding, cuts upon cuts. Empty buckets littered the floor while a full one rested on a small table.

The man I focused on wore a dark red suit, his hair styled into a black and red mohawk, brandishing a bloody knife in my direction.

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get down here?” His Spanish accent echoed in the tomb.

Him. Lynx. My nemesis. My target.

Then my eyes landed on the massacre behind him.

All the hope I’d nursed sputtered out. All my love and prayers siphoned away.

Sparrows. Clouds. Barbwire.

My heart died.

No! Q was gone. I couldn’t deny it anymore. No one could survive and have so much blood paint their body. No one could hang completely limp and lifeless if they weren’t dead.

Someone cut him down!

Franco careened into the room. His large arm wrapped around my waist, jerking me backward. Shoving me away, he raised his weapon and shot the second man wearing drenched black clothing.

The man’s neck flung back before his body fell like its puppeteer cut his strings, collapsing to the floor. The muted pop sounded so innocent compared to the sudden firework of gristle and blood decorating the wall behind the man.

Lynx reached into his waistband, pulling out an old fashioned pistol. “Don’t fucking move!”

The hairs on my arms stood up, feeding off the anger in the room—the fine edge of living and death.

I didn’t care which happened—live or die—as long as I killed Lynx first.

Blair catapulted into the room. Men crowded behind us, filling the corridor, providing back-up but also ensuring we had no way out.

Not that I needed a way out.

Q.

Franco grabbed me. I squirmed against his hold losing my ceaseless rage, filling with hot horror. Q just hung there, arms tied to his sides, black ropes binding his ankles to the ceiling.

Please, move! Let me know you haven’t left me.

My eyes hurt, searching for breath, a quiver of a feather on his chest.

Nothing.

I swallowed back a rush of sickness. He hung upside down, butchered. His legs and stomach rivered with copious amounts of blood. His tattoo barely visible beneath the deep rust. A black towel covered his face, dripping with loud droplets onto the floor below.

I needed him down. I needed him in my arms.

Lynx glared. “I wasn’t expecting an audience. But feel free to watch.” He tore the towel from Q’s head, revealing the bruised, slack face of my master.

The rage inside billowed, gathering momentum, hurtling toward one outcome. Him or me. One of us would be dead within minutes.

“Don’t touch him,” I hissed. I tore from Franco’s grip, stepping forward. I stood in the centre, wedged between right and wrong.

Franco and Alpha team shifted but remained silent. Unspoken law put me in charge. Nothing would be done or finished without my say so. And no one would kill Lynx because I would.

Lynx smiled, ignoring the men behind me—dismissing them just as I had. His gaze locked with mine and it was just us—us in this arena of death. “Who are you?” He stepped back, placing himself beside Q’s upside down body. Pressing the muzzle of his gun against Q’s temple, he said, “Wait, I know who you are. You’ve come for him then. Come to watch him die.”

I hated his mind games—holding a gun to an already deceased body. Teasing me with hope—damn fucking hope. I wouldn’t play his games. I knew the truth. He couldn’t hurt Q anymore because he was dead. The tracker in his arm spoke the truth—not this liar.

I glided forward, compelled to touch—to confirm the white pallor wasn’t fake. I couldn’t ignore the pull, a vortex sucking me stronger and stronger toward Q.

I wanted to scream at Franco to cut Q down, but Lynx protected his prize.

The link between us sputtered, weak…gone. “I’ve come to watch but you’re wrong about what. I’m here to watch your blood coat the floor.”

Lynx’s lips twisted. “You’re as delusional as he was. Do you want to know what he did only hours ago? What another slave did to the man you love?”

I slammed to a halt, bombarded by images of Q sleeping with another, loving another.

He wouldn’t.

“You can lie all you want, but I don’t believe you.”

Franco shuffled behind me. “Put down your gun, Lynx. Now.”

Blair fanned to the side, building a wall of men all bristling with weapons.

“Stand down. This is mine. Do not move.” My voice echoed with authority. The men fell silent.

Lynx smiled. “A woman with power. I like it.” He stroked the muzzle over Q’s cheek, indenting his skin, making him sway in the bindings.

My stomach snarled.

No one had the right to touch him. No one! He’s mine!

Another step. I raised my gun. Give him to me. There would be no reasoning with him. In order to get to Q, I had to win. I had to take not ask.

“You like power? You have none. Take a look. You’re outnumbered. I have a gun trained on your heart and your threats mean nothing to me. Stop touching him and I might let you die cleanly.”

“I told you I’d come for you, Tess. Never doubt how much I love you.” Q’s voice echoed in my head. He’d sacrificed so much for me. He’d brought me back to life. And I’d repaid him by sliding into the darkest part of me. The part I never wanted to know. I have to. I’m doing this for you.

A moment spread like an eternity. Finally Lynx removed his weapon from Q, training it on me. His crocodile gaze glinted, lips pulling back against crooked teeth. “What’s your name?”

I took another step, my finger trembling over the trigger. “Why?”

He cricked his neck, the gun steady in his hands. “Because I’d like to know the name of the woman I’m about to slaughter. I’ll murmur it in a curse every night while I rape a woman—all the while imagining she’s you.”

The vile sentence didn’t affect me. I was beyond affecting. “My name is Tess Snow. And you won’t be cursing it. You’ll be whimpering it.”

He laughed. “Come closer and we’ll see.” His red shoes inched toward me, closing the gap, bringing us closer to the final conclusion.

“Tess! Don’t.” Franco’s voice rang around the space. I ignored him.

“Do you know what I am?” I whispered.

Lynx’s nostrils flared. “What you are? You’re nothing but a—” He shook his head. “Wait, no…I see it—you’re…”

“I’m his. I married the night and became his monster. And you should fear me.” Nothing else existed inside. No residual issues of kidnapping, death, or pain. Nothing but peace.

I controlled my fate. Right here. Right now. And my fate was to kill and be killed. We would die together. I would wear his blood as I descended into the underworld.

“You ask if I see what you are. I do.” His demeanour changed from angry to smooth. “You’re not worthy of death, Tess Snow. Your previous owner is dead. I claim you as my new property. Come to me and I’ll let you live.” His gaze slithered over my body. “I’ll treat you right. I’ve searched all my life for a woman like you.”

Another step. Only a metre left. Grabbing distance. Shooting distance.

“A woman like me?”

“A woman so broken she doesn’t even know. A woman strong enough to survive anything because she no longer feels anything.” His arm lowered a little, believing his fantasy—that he could win me. That he could acquire me.

I laughed.

Everyone froze—the dungeon pulsed as I slipped from sanity to insane. I lowered my gun.

I’d never felt more clear. More powerful. He’s already dead. I knew how I’d do it. “You want to own me?” Softness entered my voice, ghosting over the tiles toward Lynx.

“Tess—come back here,” Franco ordered. “Whatever you’re doing—stop it.”

The awareness between me and Q’s killer grew stronger, blocking everyone out. I didn’t look at Q or pay attention to Franco. I was single-minded. Locked on my prey. Mouth watering with the knowledge I’d won.

Lynx smiled, eye’s glinting with interest. “Yes. Stand by my side. I would be proud to keep you. You’d have my word I would never sell you—as long as you stayed this cold.” His accent danced with sensuality, dragging me closer toward him. Idiot. Buffoon.

“You want to own my body. But what about my mind?” One last step. Space meant nothing anymore. Such a short space. A killable space.

His pistol lowered, hypnotised by his own illusion. “I want to own all of you. Give it to me and I’ll treat you better than he ever did.”

He. Q. My heart launched out of my chest, winging to my dead master. My skin was sleet and snow, but it was almost over. Soon, my maître. Soon, I’m coming for you. I noticed everything as if I’d stepped outside my body. Every nuance, every threat was achingly clear.

One more step. Lynx’s body heat buffeted me—his expensive cologne made me want to vomit. But I looked into his eyes, invoking the sweetest poison of my soul. I made him believe. “I doubt you can,” I murmured, looking up through lowered lashes. The room was stagnant with tension—it was soup—unstrained syrup.

Lynx was bewitched. “Doubt I can what?” He leaned forward, eyes latching onto my lips.

“Treat me better than he ever did.” His body curved, swaying toward me, drugged on the poison I fed. “I’ll accept your terms, if you do one thing for me. One tiny thing.”

His lips hovered a fraction above mine. “Do what?”

I tilted my head, hair falling over one eye. “Ask what I want in return. Then I’ll give you all that I am.”

His forehead furrowed, his temper growing. “You’re too bold. But I’ll do it—one request, then no more.” He reached for my chin, holding me. I ignored the insects crawling beneath his touch. Soon. It would be over….soon. “What do you want?”

My eyes rested on Q. His wonderful body, his gorgeous features. I fanned the love in my heart, cocooning myself with strength. On barely a whisper, I said, “You can’t give me what I want.”

Lynx pulled back, the fog retreating from his eyes, finally sensing my trap. But it was too late.

“You can’t give it to me because I want your fucking soul.” I pressed my weapon against his cock. I fired.

A second.

That’s all it took.

The bullet tore through soft intimate flesh, making him scream. And scream. And scream. His pistol swung upward but I was ready. I shot his hand. Blood filled the wound, spilling with a steady trickle. The weapon skittered away like a scared animal, sliding into a corner of the room.

Lynx crashed to the floor, holding his bloody trousers, incomprehensible with pain.

Franco tried to grab me, but I didn’t stop or care. Slapping him away, I knelt beside Lynx, letting his groaning agony wash over me. I pushed a fingertip into his blood, gathering the life-paint, smearing it across my cheek. The cooling ooze was a hard-won trophy. I swelled with retribution.

I did this for you, Q. I’ve avenged you.

“Help—someone!” Lynx spluttered between his screams. Slamming a hand over his mouth, I shut him up. His feeble fights were nothing to the rage making me inhumanly strong. I didn’t care my knees got wet as I kneeled by his head. I didn’t care his blood soaked through my clothes, baptising me in horror. All I cared about was the last words I wanted to say. To him. To the traffickers who’d taken me. To evil itself.

I bowed over him, whispering in his ear, “My name is Tess Mercer. I’m no longer weak or afraid or broken. I’ve taken control of my fate. I no longer need a tower or dark angels or help. I am fear. And I take your soul in penance for everything that was done to me. I take it for the women you’ve raped. I take it for the women you’ve sold. I take it for my master, soul-mate, and husband. I take you for me.”

Pressing the gun against his forehead, I locked eyes with his chaotic gaze. He begged me silently. He pleaded wordlessly. And no compassion filled me.

I hope you burn forever.

Trigger. Sulphur. Bullet.

He was dead.

No one moved or spoke as I rose gracefully from the puddle of blood, standing over the soulless corpse. I was a phoenix glowing bright with power. I took back everything that’d been stolen.

I didn’t find the old Tess. She was gone. But in her place stood a new Tess. A woman who no longer feared. I’d looked evil in the eye and won. I’d been reborn in blood.

Franco shuffled forward, gently prying my fingers from the gun. “Tess—are you okay?”

His voice cut through my silence inside, reminding me I’d taken one life, now it was time to mourn another.

Turning to Q, I wasn’t strong enough to fight the swell of grief this time.

Q hung there—his stomach didn’t rise with breath, his dark hair glistening with wetness. He was gone and it was time to smother my pointless hope and accept. “Cut him down.”

The team of men did as I asked, obeying my every command. A pulley in the wall dropped Q’s body to a height where a knife could be sliced through the rope around his ankles. Two men caught him. Franco collected his legs and in a sombre ceremony they carried him from the dungeon. They carried my reason for existing back into the sunlight.

I trailed behind, smearing Lynx’s blood between my fingers like a talisman. The emptiness inside rapidly filled with churning waves of sadness. My heartbeats were heavy and loud—gonging with every step.

One beat.

Two beats.

I focused on staying strong. I had to. Q was gone.

Once upstairs, the men placed Q on a couch in a small conservatory. It was the only room that looked peaceful with plants rather than stripper poles.

I allowed the men to untie him—unwrapping his ankles, freeing his arms. I kneeled on the floor by his head, never taking my gaze from his white face. His eyes remained closed, lips slightly parted.

The waves inside splashed against my crumbling self-control. The first tear escaped my control, sliding down my cheek.

Franco disappeared. He came back with a blue blanket draping it over Q’s nakedness.

He’s dead.

No matter how much I told myself, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. If I did it meant my life was over. Forever. I would remain alone.

Hope—that bastardly emotion—wouldn’t let me go.

He doesn’t feel dead.

He’s not gone. He can’t be gone.

The cord linking our souls together wasn’t completely sundered. Or was I believing my own lies? Numbing myself to the truth?

Q please. Don’t leave.

The first wave broke my iron control, sending a torrent of tears up my spine.

I cupped Q’s cheek. I froze.

He was clammy. Not cold.

Hope took over my waves of tears, building a wall of wishes.

“Franco…” I looked up, begging him to confirm.

Franco hovered over me, his body seizing with injury. He lowered his good hand beneath Q’s nostrils. Ducking beneath his arm, I pressed my ear against Q’s damp chest, willing a heartbeat to thud.

My ear grew warm as I pressed harder, throbbing with the need to hear the fundamental part of him thrum.

Moments ticked past while we listened and waited.

Then my hope was confirmed.

Franco and I jerked back together. Our eyes met, wide with awe. “He’s breathing,” Franco said. I blurted, “His heartbeat is faint but it’s there.”

The churning waves vanished, leaving me with frantic calm. “Someone get more blankets. Water. Call an ambulance.” I pressed my ear to Q’s chest again, needing to hear.

Thud…thud…

You’re going to be okay.

Q’s unconscious form became the hub of commotion. Men dashed around, delivering blankets, first aid kits, and water.

I didn’t move from Q’s side. With gentle fingertips, I traced his cheekbones, whispering over his lips. “You’re safe. Wake up. Please wake up.”

Tears breached my eyelashes, dripping over my cheeks. But these were hopeful tears rather than heavy with grief. My body remembered how to feel, thawing the ice in my blood, bringing me up from the darkness and back into the sunshine. “Q—please.”

Kneeling higher, I pressed my lips to his. In my mind I tasted his agony—the torture he’d endured. I licked away his screams, letting him know we’d come for him.

We weren’t too late.

I’m here.

My body began to quake, exceeding any Richter scale as I filled with shaking gratefulness.

I kissed him again. Hard and fierce.

He didn’t move but something shifted in my heart. I knew he’d heard me—sensed me. An awareness gathered in the space as Q clawed his way from unconsciousness, fighting to return.

In increments, he came alive.

His chest raised higher, his lips tightening as pain registered.

Then his eyes went from closed to narrowed to open. Pale jade blazed while the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and raw.

What the hell did they do to him?

I shook my head. I didn’t want to know. I never wanted to picture him in such pain. I couldn’t handle it. I’d never forgive myself for not extracting a worse toll on Lynx if I knew.

Q’s gaze focused on mine, pulling me inside him, sewing us together stronger, deeper than ever before. “Te—Tess?”

I burst into tears. Throwing my arms around his neck, I peppered his face with kisses. I wasn’t gentle. I couldn’t be gentle.

He half-laughed, half-groaned. “Tout va bien.” It’s okay. His voice was cracked and rough, breathless with pain.

“You’re alive. Q—” I couldn’t stop kissing him, layering him with all the love I had. “We thought you were dead. How is this possible?” I stroked his cheek, imprinting his glorious face onto my heart.

Q stiffened, wincing as a flush of agony paled his features. “He d—did kill me, a f—few times. Or at least, I think so—I remember leaving—falling...” His eyes clouded. “I followed you, esclave. I thought you’d come—”

“We did come.”

He smiled. “Kiss me again. I need to know this is real.” His voice was barely audible, cracking and wheezing but I understood every word.

My lips caressed his, drinking him, loving him. It was a chaste kiss. No tongue, only breath and heat and a promise of never leaving.

Pulling away, I asked, “If he killed you—how are you alive?”

Q looked away, hiding the torrent of memories. “He had ta—Taser. Amazing what a volt of el—electricity to the heart can do—to prolong things.”

His grogginess evaporated as his hand suddenly shot between his legs. Relief slackened his face. “Thank God.”

I pulled back. “What? What is it?”

Q shook his head, alertness battling back his weakness. “Nothing. I’m still in one piece. That’s all.” He sighed heavily, looking worn-out and barely conscious. His eyes narrowed. “Why is there blood on your cheek?”

Because it was my blood to take.

Franco appeared in the doorway, using the dreaded walking stick he’d scorned before. “Ambulance is on its way.” Smiling at Q, he added, “You should’ve seen her, Mercer. Fucking scary as hell. But she killed him for you.” Franco glared in my direction. His eyes blatantly vowing that what happened downstairs would remain between us.

I nodded, accepting his promise. I’d done what I needed to do. Q didn’t need to know the details.

Q’s face darkened, overshadowed with the strain of talking. “What?” He growl-croaked, “You killed Lynx? That’s his blood on your face?”

I made him believe my lies and stole his life.

I nodded, fierce pride resonating in my heart. “He stole you from me. He had to die. And I had to be the one to do it.” Taking his hand, I squeezed. “I know you’ll understand, and I know you’ll accept when I say it’s done and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Q flinched, untangling his arm from the blanket. With a shaky hold, he cupped the back of my neck. I bowed over him, never looking away from his eyes. “What did you do, Tess? Please tell me you didn’t undo my hard work.” He stopped, sucking in a breath. His eyes were tight with agony. “Tell me you didn’t ruin yourself by killing him for me. You didn’t have to do that. I never wanted—”

“It won’t happen.” I knew his fears. He worried I’d relapse for hurting another like killing Blonde Hummingbird. But I wouldn’t because I’d done the right thing. I was happy. I accepted my brutality and would gladly live with the knowledge I wasn’t pure anymore. I was never pure. And if I went to hell for saving the man I loved—then that was the final debt I would pay.

I kissed him softly. “Taking his life granted me power. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m in control of my fate, and I give it to you wholeheartedly.” My stomach clenched, remembering his letter. “But if you ever leave me a note again, after planning your death and telling me nothing of the dangers you’re in, I’ll kill you, too.”

Q leaned back on the cushion, his energy rapidly fading. “I did that to protect you.”

“Well—I want to protect you in return.” My heart lurched realizing just how vulnerable we all were. How quickly life passed—how much I wanted to live it. “Marry me, Q. Now. I don’t care where or how.”

Q’s fingers added pressure to the base of my skull, bringing me down to kiss him. His lips moved against mine in a dance belonging completely to us. His tongue entered sweetly, seductively. He didn’t kiss with misery or happiness or lust.

He kissed me with reverence. Thankfulness.

When we broke apart, he murmured, “Je t’ai déjà épousée dans mon cœur, Tess. Au moment où j'ai posé les yeux sur toi, tu étais à moi pour toujours, mon amour.” I’ve already married you in my heart, Tess. The moment I set eyes on you, you were mine forever.

Looking over my head, he said to Franco, “Call Suzette. Find out where she organised the wedding.”

“Wait—Suzette?”

Q smiled, reopening the small cut on his lower lip. “We’re getting married tomorrow. Suzette’s been arranging it.” His last reservoir of strength petered out, leaving him pale and breathing hard.

Franco towered over us, two injured warriors together. “I’ll call her, and I’ll do anything else that needs to be done—but you—you’re going to the hospital.”

Q opened his lips to argue but winced as Franco deliberately patted his sliced up legs beneath the blanket. “Hospital, Mercer. Then wedding. Don’t make me kick your ass.”

A tense moment existed before Q nodded. “I think that ass kicking can wait, don’t you?” His gaze fell to Franco’s missing thumb. A rosebud of blood decorated the bandage where his digit used to be. Q frowned, taking in the sling and Franco’s cane. “Thank you for coming.”

Franco shrugged. “Couldn’t be late to this party. Look how much fun you were having.”

I cringed at the morbid humour, but Q smiled. “The fun I could’ve done without—but I’m grateful to you, Franco.” His eyes fell on me. “And forever in your debt, Tess. You should never have had to do that on my behalf. I’m sorry.”

Sirens sliced the morning peace. A flashing ambulance pulled into the driveway, its lights visible through the windows. Kissing Q’s cheek, I whispered, “No apologises. I did what I needed to do.” I nuzzled his cheek. “Your chariot awaits, maître. And your bride will be with you every step until she becomes your wife.”

Q’s body stiffened, fighting off a wave of pain. “And once you’re my wife—you intend to leave my side?”

My heart was no longer a heart—it became a beacon, beaming with brightness, lighting the way to my future. “When I’m your wife, our lives will become one. I won’t be by your side. I’ll be inside you. Forever.”

Q sucked in a breath, his eyes glowing with love. “In that case—get me to the hospital.”