by Rose, Callie
Fuck. He’s right about that.
I was prepared to go back to my own room, but the truth is, I’d probably spend all night tossing and turning, fighting off nightmares in which Marcus never came back to us, or lying awake wondering if he was all right.
How the hell Theo could see that in me without me saying a word about it, I don’t know. But at the moment, I’m insanely grateful for how well my ex-stalkers know me.
Tiptoeing forward, I rest my hand on his chest and rise up to press a kiss to his lips. Then I step inside the room, keeping my footsteps light as I cross toward the bed.
Marcus is lying on his stomach, his face illuminated by the soft beam of light that streams in through the halfway open door. I can still see bone-deep weariness and signs of pain in his features, but his expression is peaceful as he sleeps quietly. His long, dark lashes fan across his cheeks, and the vulnerability of him in this moment hits me like a ton of bricks.
I want to both wrap myself up in him and wrap myself around him.
To be protected by him and protect him right back.
He has become my anchor in a world of chaos, and I hope like hell I can be that for him too.
“Goodnight, Rose.”
Theo’s soft voice comes from the doorway, and a second later, the light vanishes as the door shuts with a soft click. Ignoring the fact that I just put it back on, I shrug my dress off again and then crawl into bed beside Marcus.
He’s fast asleep, dead to the world, but when I lift the covers and slide in beside him, he makes a soft noise and rolls onto his side, snaking his arms around me and pulling me into his body. His face nuzzles my hair, and he takes one long inhale before his breathing pattern returns to normal.
I nestle deeper into his embrace, sleep already dragging me under. The last thought I have before I give in to the heavy pull is: he’s home.
And I am too.
* * *
I dream of something good, for once.
Of course, of all the dreams I’ve had, this is the one I can’t quite remember when I slowly blink awake in the morning. But I know it was a good dream, because instead of a pounding heart and wildly racing thoughts, I feel peaceful. Calm. Happy.
The dream was about my brother, I think.
That realization makes me dig deeper into the scrap heap of my memory banks, searching for any hint of what passed through my mind while I was asleep. I come up empty, but I have the strangest feeling that I found him in my dream. That I came face-to-face with him, and he was alive.
Healthy.
Real.
“What’s that smile for, angel?”
Marcus’s voice is rough with sleep, and when I turn my head toward him, I find his blue and brown eyes focused on me. He’s lying on his side, one arm slung possessively over my stomach as I lie on my back. I didn’t realize he was awake. It’s still a bit early, and he should really be getting as much sleep as possible. But he looks better this morning. His face has more color, and he looks as peaceful as I feel.
“Oh, you know.” I turn toward him. “I had a pretty good night last night.”
He lets out a low laugh, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Fuck, I missed you.”
There’s nothing but honest truth in his words, and I nod, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. “I missed you too.”
He tugs me closer, pulling me into his embrace. He must’ve stripped down to just his boxers before he got in bed, and as my arm wraps around him, my fingertips brush the damaged skin of a fresh scar. My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I pull back a little.
“Can I see?”
Marcus lifts an eyebrow, shooting me a questioning glance. “You really want to?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know if want to is the right way to put it. I need to see the scars on his back left behind by the bullet wounds. I need to know how bad it is.
He hesitates for a beat, then nods. Releasing his hold on me, he rolls over onto his stomach, crossing his arms on his pillow and resting his cheek against them as he watches me carefully.
Tugging the blankets down a little, I scan his back. My pulse picks up, memories of my own trauma and slow, painful healing process rising to the surface as I stare at the three bright pink wounds on Marcus’s back. They’re concentrated in a tight cluster on the right side between his spine and his shoulder blade.
“Victoria’s a fucking bitch, but the doc she has on call knows his shit,” Marcus murmurs as I rise up onto the elbow of my ruined arm and lean over him a little, examining his wounds. “My lung had collapsed, but he was able to fix it. And the bullets made pretty straight paths inside my body, so there wasn’t as much internal damage as there could’ve been. The thing that almost killed me was blood loss.”
My stomach churns at the memory of waking up in a drying puddle of blood. Of being caked in it, my clothes and skin and hair matted with it.
I nod, unable to find words to respond.
How much blood has been lost between the two of us? How much more blood will be spilled before this thing is over?
“So does this make us even?” I trace my fingers in wide circles around each of his fresh, pink scars. I want to kiss them like he’s done to mine, but they’re too new for that, the wounds still healing. “I saved your life, then you saved mine.”
“Not a fucking chance, angel.” Marcus rolls onto his side again, stealing away the sight of his injured back. “The doc kept telling me how fucking lucky I was. That if I’d gotten shot on the other side, there’s a good chance the bullets would’ve hit my heart. The fact that I spun around at the last second? The fact that I had my arms around you? That saved me. I owe you twice as much now.”
I scowl at him. “That doesn’t count. That’s just a coincidence. Good luck, like the doctor said.”
His grin is fierce and feral. “It counts if I say it counts.” He pushes me onto my back, resting on an elbow to hover over me. “And you’re more than good luck, Ayla. You’re my fucking guardian angel, and you always will be.”
He kisses me, drugging me with the feel of his large, calloused hand roving over my body and his lips on mine. I wrap my arm around him, carefully avoiding his wounds as I pull him closer.
Marcus has been calling me his guardian angel ever since he crashed back into my life, and I never really believed him.
But as we kiss each other like our lives depend on it, like the other person is our air and water and food, I realize for the first time that I want to be.
I’ve found something with these men that I never knew existed, that I never thought I could have. And there’s no fucking way I’m letting anyone take it away from me now.
Chapter 18
It’s close to noon by the time Marcus and I finally emerge from the bedroom. We find Theo and Ryland in the kitchen, and my stomach does a strange little flip-flop when I see them.
I can still feel the events of last night everywhere on my body, as if they’ve been permanently imprinted on my skin. When Ryland rises from his barstool and palms the back of my head before kissing me, it strikes me how much things really have changed.
Again.
Theo swoops in for a kiss as Ryland sits back down, and Marcus and I settle at the kitchen island. There are eggs and bacon that someone—probably Theo—cooked up, and we serve ourselves and grab some coffee. My stomach growls as I sprinkle on a little salt. I haven’t eaten since before the party last night, and I’m starving.
But I almost choke on my first bite when Theo glances over at Marcus and asks, “So, when’s the wedding?”
Marcus stiffens, and I chug hot coffee to try to keep from choking to death. There’s a scraping noise, and I realize that Ryland kicked Theo’s stool under the island.
Theo holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Hey, I just wanted to know what date I need to murder Victoria by, that’s all. We need to know what we’re dealing with. What kind of timeline we’re on.”
That’s the second time in less than twenty-
four hours that one of these men has vowed to kill the elegant auburn-haired woman, and I don’t really care what it says about me that I like that.
“He’s got a point,” Ryland grunts. “I’m surprised she didn’t try to get a priest to do the honors while you were lying in bed all fucked up on pain meds and less likely to tell her to go fuck herself.”
Marcus’s jaw clenches. “That wouldn’t have given her what she wanted. This is a stunt. Something meant to cause waves and get people talking. Speculating. Everyone already knows the three of us won’t turn on each other, and now she’s trying to position herself as part of that. And she needed Luca to witness our engagement so that the wedding itself would seem halfway legitimate.”
“So then what timeline are we looking at?” Theo purses his lips.
I set my fork down next to my half-finished eggs. I really wish Theo had brought this up after we ate, although I know we can’t put off talking about it. But my stomach is now such a hard lump that the idea of eating anything makes me feel a little queasy.
“A month.” Marcus shoves his plate away too. “Maybe a little more. I’m sure she’ll want it done before the next game begins so she’ll have a shield against attack from any of us.”
“I think she’s counting way too heavily on our sense of honor,” Ryland grunts, anger resonating in his voice. “Thinking a fucking marriage license is gonna keep one of us from putting a bullet in her head.”
“No, she’s not.” I speak up suddenly, and all three men turn to look at me. I bite my lip. “She’s not stupid. And she knows you guys aren’t either. She’s not counting on your honor to save her. She’s counting on the fact that it would be suicide to kill her.”
“Angel.” Marcus’s jaw clenches.
I glance around our small group, meeting each of their gazes. “What would happen if someone murdered another competitor outside of the allotted seventy-two-hour window?”
There’s a moment of silence, as if none of them want to answer. Then Theo clears his throat. “Their life would be forfeit. They’d be killed, or hunted down and then killed if they tried to run.”
A shiver runs up my spine at his words, but I forge ahead. “And what do you think would happen if a husband killed his wife during the allotted window? Do you think Luca would stand for that?”
Marcus’s nostrils flare, and my mind flashes back to the promise he made me last night. I don’t doubt for a second that he’d kill Victoria rather than marry her.
But I don’t know if I can let him do that.
Two weeks of not knowing whether he was alive or dead nearly killed me. I can’t fucking lose him again.
“No,” Ryland says finally, his voice heavy in the quiet that’s descended on the kitchen. “He loved his wife. He fuckin’ worshipped her. I don’t think he’d stand for it.”
“Doesn’t mean one of us couldn’t kill her,” Theo says, a bloodthirsty note to his voice.
I nod. “Yeah. Maybe. But it’s risky. I’m sure Luca knows you guys are close. He probably won’t buy that one of you went behind Marcus’s back to kill his wife. He’ll know Marcus was behind it. Victoria changed the game entirely when she brought marriage into it.”
Marcus visibly winces at the word, and it falls from my tongue like a drop of poison. I grip the edge of the island with my hand, fingers digging into the smooth marble.
“What are you saying, angel? What are you getting at?” he asks, his voice low and hard.
My stomach twists. I’m trying to think through this rationally, but I can’t bring myself to speak the words we’re all thinking out loud.
Marcus might not have a choice.
Not if he wants to live.
“I’m saying…” I swallow. “I want to talk to her. Just me and her.”
“What?”
“Fuck, no!”
“Are you insane?”
The chorus of words comes so quickly that I can’t sort out who says what, but it’s easy enough to figure out how they all feel about my idea. They fucking hate it.
Their barrage of “no” continues for another second until I raise my hand, palm out.
“One of you can come with me,” I say quickly. “You’ll have to. I have no idea where she lives, and I doubt she’ll see me unless one of you gets me in. But I need to talk to her. Woman to woman.”
“She’s not a woman, Rose. She’s a pit viper.” Theo’s voice holds no trace of humor as he stands up, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well, whatever she is, she’s not like any of the other competitors in the game,” I insist. “She’s got tits and a vagina, and so do I. She’s obviously playing this game differently than anyone else, and we need to know what she wants. Maybe there’s a bargain that can be struck, something we can do to get her to drop this engagement. Because if she forces your hand…” My gaze slides to Marcus, and I let him see the raw pain on my face, for once not even trying to hide my emotions around him. Not like I used to. “I’m not letting you die over this.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his expression hard to read. I can practically hear Ryland’s teeth grinding together, and I know he’s probably regretting the day he let me get involved in this shit at all.
But I meant what I said. Victoria is playing a different angle than any of the men in the game are. She brought her own fucking deck of cards, and I’ve got a better chance of being able to play against her than they do.
Because I get it. As much as I despise her, I fucking get it.
She was thrust into a violent competition with astronomical stakes against a bunch of burly alpha men, and while she’s obviously no weakling, she must’ve realized that her odds of winning are greater off the battlefield than on it.
Her best odds of winning are by manipulating the game itself into her favor.
Marcus is quiet for so long that it makes my skin prickle uncomfortably. I remember my blowup with Ryland over whether or not I should be involved in all of this. I’ll go toe-to-toe with Marcus about it if I have to, but I really don’t fucking want to.
He’s supposed to be healing. And I have a feeling if the two of us fight about this, it’s gonna be long and messy and painful as fuck. I feel like an exposed nerve right now, all my emotions too close to the surface, and I can see the same look in his eyes.
Finally, he clenches his hand into a fist. “Okay. You want to talk to her? Fine. But I’m coming with you, angel, and if she so much as lays a goddamn finger on you, I’ll end her right then and there.”
I nod, my stomach relaxing a little.
He hates it, but he’ll let me try. It’s the best I’m gonna get.
* * *
Theo and Ryland stay home while Marcus borrows Theo’s car to take me to Victoria’s place.
They both wanted to come, but I knew the odds of violence erupting would increase exponentially with all three of them there with me. They’re all fucking pissed at Victoria, and they’ve all been under a fuckton of strain over the past few weeks. They’re on a hair-trigger, and it’s not worth taking that risk.
Marcus is silent on the drive over, stewing in his own thoughts. I couldn’t say exactly what they are, but his grip on the steering wheel is so tight that I’m pretty sure he’s imagining it’s Victoria’s neck.
She lives closer to Theo’s place than I expected, and the drive only takes us twenty minutes. It makes me wonder how many of the other competitors live in the same general area of Halston.
It wouldn’t surprise me. The city is pretty divided between the “haves” and the “have nots,” and everyone in the game is wealthy and well-connected somehow.
When Marcus pulls up outside her place, I stare out the window at it, blinking in surprise. Not because of how huge and elaborate it is, but because it’s neither of those things. It’s nice—modern and classy—but from the way Victoria carried herself at the party last night, I would’ve expected her to live in a fucking palace.
She carried herself like a queen. Like someone who
’s had everything she could ever want handed to her all her life. But that’s not true. I remember what Theo told me about her, how she grew up with practically nothing before her family found their way into massive amounts of wealth.
Maybe that’s why her house isn’t some monstrosity dripping in gold. People who know what it’s like to go hungry tend to value what they have more than people who’ve never wanted for anything—at least, in my experience.
They’re also scrappy as fuck, which is normally a quality I admire. But it’s hard to muster up even grudging respect when this bitch wants to marry the man I’m falling in love with.
Marcus cuts the engine, then turns to me, his eyes burning. “You sure about this, angel?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in my voice.
He curses under his breath. “Dammit. I swore to fuckin’ god I was done letting you step in front of bullets for me. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s what Victoria is. She’s a stray goddamn bullet.”
“No,” I say dryly, echoing my words from back in Theo’s kitchen. “She’s a woman.”
The men all know Victoria better than I do. But I can relate to her on a level they can’t.
Not that I think we’re gonna braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails like this is a fucking slumber party, but maybe she’ll say something to me that she wouldn’t say to them. Maybe she’ll let me see some opening, some hint of weakness.
“Right. Let’s get this shit over with.” Marcus scrubs a hand through his hair before shoving open his door.
He eases out of the car gingerly, and I wonder how much pain he’s in. He told me he spent the first week at Victoria’s place so out of it that the whole thing is a blur, but he improved rapidly after that.
Still, I worry that he’ll push too hard or too fast in his recovery and fuck himself up worse.
He opens my door for me, then leads me up the walk toward Victoria’s house. His grip on my hand is bruising, and his shoulders are rigid and tight. My stomach churns with unease as he raps sharply on the door with his knuckles.
