by Mari Carr
The idea that someone might really be down here…
“Up there,” Devon half-whispered, half-mouthed as he pointed to a section of tunnel above them. There was wood directly above, and the sound was filtering down through the spaces between the boards.
Juliette hadn’t been up there. At least she thought she hadn’t. “How do we get up there?” she breathed.
Franco frowned as he leaned closer. He was holding the light sticks they’d cracked before entering. He had one in his hand, and the others in an old-fashioned lantern he’d rigged up. The lantern held five or six sticks casting off green-yellow light. It was an old maritime lantern that had metal doors that closed over the panels of glass, allowing the light to be completely shuttered if needed. “If we double back and around to the left, there’s a tunnel that slopes up to connect with that one.”
“Too dangerous,” Devon breathed. “Wood floor. Charlotte said it wouldn’t hold. Haven’t had time to lay something else down.”
“Air shafts,” Franco countered. “If we go back for the map, we can find one of the air shafts that were built in to allow circulation.”
Devon took a few steps to the side, licked his finger, and held it up. He walked out of the circle of Franco’s light. Juliette followed, Franco on her heels.
Devon was standing in a small alcove. He studied it, looked up, and then said softly, “Found the air shaft. We climb.”
* * *
“The folder isn’t in here.” Weston headed for the entrance. “We’ll check the halls on either side on our way out. How long did he take to hide it?”
“Minutes,” Rose said softly. They had been long minutes.
“Then it can’t be that well-hidden,” Marek said. “Why don’t we take time to look now?”
Rose caught the flash of suspicion on Wes’s face when he looked at Marek. “The priority is the diaries,” Wes said. “We need to get to the Grand Master’s office. It’s going to take a while if we’re going to keep avoiding the larger tunnels.”
* * *
Juliette felt the leather of her boot soles slip on the stone and bit down on a yelp. Devon reached into the dark shaft and pulled her up. The voices were much clearer now, coming from the hall to their right. The deadly patch of wood floor was on the left.
Franco handed up the lantern, its shutters closed. Juliette’s eyes adjusted and now she could see it, faint light coming from around a corner in the tunnel. No, wait, she knew where she was. There was a large, empty chamber here. The fact that it was empty was one of the reasons they hadn’t bothered to fix the access tunnel.
Franco emerged, a shadow in the darkness. Juliette groped blindly and took his hand. They all paused to listen for a moment.
“We have to get closer,” Devon breathed.
* * *
Rose didn’t want to go any deeper into the tunnels. She wanted to get out. After Caden’s death, she’d had no problem playing the kamikaze, ready and willing to go down in a ball of flame as long as she took a few other people with her.
But now…now she’d tasted happiness. Tasted pleasure without pain. And she wanted more. She wanted a chance. She wanted another night with Weston and Marek beside her.
“There was construction,” she said. “They were building something, or maybe repairing. Caden was dusty.” He had been, hadn’t he? “The folio must be hidden in between some stones, or under the floor, or behind a wall.”
* * *
“It was. And we found it,” Devon said, stepping into the chamber, pointing his gun directly at the trio.
Juliette stepped next to Devon, and Franco appeared on her other side. He opened the shutters on the lantern and the green-gold light spread around then, adding to the hard, white light of the cell phone flash. Juliette’s gaze focused on Rose until Devon spoke again, his voice sarcastic and cold.
“You look good for a dead man, Weston.”
Juliette examined the man beside Rose. She’d never met Weston Anderson. He was tall with brownish-blond hair, and when he looked first at her, then at Franco, only one of his eyes moved.
“Asher,” Weston said coldly. Then to her, “Grand Master.”
Juliette stiffened, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Rose would have told him. To protect her identify, she usually pretended to be one of the counselors and, if she needed, had someone else wear her robe and stand beside her to throw off any suspicion.
She finally noticed the third person, standing in the shadows.
“Marek?”
No wonder they hadn’t heard from their K and R man. He’d obviously switched camps.
Marek bowed, despite the fact Devon was still holding a gun on them. “Juliette. Devon. It’s good to see you both again.”
“You never called,” she said coldly.
“Circumstances prevented it.”
“I see you found her.” Juliette’s gaze slid to Rose and fixed. “Hello, Rose.”
* * *
A light came on, and Rose blinked. There were a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. They’d been in place the last time she’d been here. The other man with Juliette had found the junction box resting on the floor and flipped on the lights.
Rose looked at Juliette. Her blonde hair fell in perfectly blow-dried waves. She wore a pea coat and jeans tucked into brown leather boots. Devon stood at her side, looking strong and dapper as always.
Though she’d dreaded someday marrying them, she couldn’t help the pang of loss she felt when she looked at them together. They’d been meant to be her trinity.
But instead, Juliette had, just like everyone else, cast her aside as if she were a piece of garbage. The third person with them was tall and slim with dark hair and eyes. This, then, was the person Juliette had chosen for herself.
Choice. Juliette had always had choices. Had control. Had power. Oh, she’d whined like a little bitch about how unfair her life was. How ridiculous it was that she’d been betrothed, but she’d had so many choices. Rose had none.
And Juliette let Christian get away with killing Caden. She condoned it, covered it up. She hadn’t pulled the trigger, but she’d had the power to punish the killer, and she hadn’t.
Caden, who’d loved her but tormented her. Caden, whom she’d wanted to love but couldn’t.
Juliette had Caden killed and then disappeared his body. Because with no body, there was no investigation. No crime. No proof of the murder.
Rose’s whole body flushed cold, as if she’d been suddenly doused in ice water.
“You,” she said in a perfectly flat voice. “You killed him.”
* * *
“No. I didn’t.” Juliette had expected the anger. No. Worse than that, she’d anticipated more of the same insanity that had gripped Rose the last time she’d been in these tunnels. It was strange, but for some reason, Juliette thought the crazy woman might have been easier to deal with than this one. Rose was full of rage, anger, her eyes burning holes through Juliette.
“The purists are to blame for what happened to Caden.”
* * *
The fucking bitch. Rose didn’t care if Juliette was right. How dare she even say his name. Rose bared her teeth in a snarl and leapt at Juliette. She had a moment of delicious satisfaction, seeing Juliette’s eyes widen in shock. Then she grabbed a handful of blonde hair and yanked.
Devon grabbed her, trying to pull her off of Juliette.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Weston snarled.
Rose gritted her teeth as Juliette slammed a fist into her stomach. She kept ahold of her hair, yanked her down, then raised her knee, catching Juliette in the solar plexus.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw Weston grab Devon, yanking him off of her. There was the heavy thud of fists against flesh.
“Let go of me, you bitch,” Juliette snarled.
Rose hooked her foot behind Juliette’s ankle and yanked, hoping to knock Juliette back and land on top of her, but Juliette twisted in the air and they both landed on the floor, Ros
e’s knees singing with pain. Rose jumped to her feet. Juliette did the same.
* * *
Juliette flipped her hair out of her face, then lunged back toward Rose. Months of stress, rage, loneliness, came roaring to the forefront. She’d found the perfect punching bag, the perfect outlet for her anger.
Rose. Fucking gorgeous Rose.
Devon’s guilt, his tangible remorse since Christian’s trinity had found out some of what Rose and Caden had been through, told Juliette all she needed to know. Devon would have been delighted with their original trinity. Because he loved Rose. He’d always loved Rose. Did that mean he resented her for dissolving the trinity?
Fuck that. Fuck him. And her.
Juliette ignored the tears forming as she grabbed Rose’s blouse, tearing it in the process. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
* * *
Marek would never be proud of how long it took him to react, but the situation had gone from tense standoff to back-alley brawl faster than he’d known was possible. He looked between the women and the men. Devon had tucked the gun away—thank God—intent on playing fair. He landed a vicious punch to Weston’s right cheek. A sucker punch, considering Weston would have trouble seeing it coming.
That settled it, men first.
Marek jumped forward, shoving his way between then. The other man did something similar, grabbing Devon and hauling him backwards.
“I’m Franco, nice to meet you,” the dark-haired man called out.
Marek slid his arms around Weston’s shoulders in a standing full nelson. “Marek Lee. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
* * *
Rose yanked back, leaving part of her shirt in Juliette’s hand. Cold air brushed over her bare stomach.
“I know you’re going to kill me. Because you’re just like every other Grand Master.” Rose wiped blood from her lower lip. “I haven’t forgotten that night you insisted on sitting up with Devon and me, going on and on about all the things you didn’t like about the Trinity Masters. All the things that should be different.” Rose gestured around with one hand. “Yet here we are.”
“You should have told me,” she snarled.
“Told you what?”
“About your parents, about the purists.”
Rose smiled. “The Adamses have spent so many years being blind and dumb that I didn’t think it would do any good. You know now, and what have you done with the information?”
Juliette stiffened, and Rose took advantage of the moment. Instead of a frontal attack, she leapt and then fell into a crouch, kicking out at Juliette’s knee. It was a vicious blow, meant to break the joint, but Juliette managed to twist, taking it on her calf muscle instead.
* * *
Juliette took a step back, trying to catch her breath. Pain sang in her leg. The tangy taste of blood told her she had a busted lip and her scalp burned from Rose pulling her hair. She was poised and ready to lunge again, but Franco grabbed her arm before she could move.
“Easy, Jules.”
Her breathing came rapidly, as if she’d run miles. “I wanted to help you. I’m trying to help you,” she spat at Rose. “I asked Marek to find you, save you. Not kill you.”
“Well, you found me. Congratulations,” Rose sneered. Then she rushed at Juliette once more.
If Rose wanted a fight, so be it. She scratched Rose’s cheek in her attempt to get a grip on her hair. The woman was moving too fast, all swinging limbs. Juliette wanted—no, she needed—to land one good, brutal punch to prove to the woman once and for all that she wasn’t weak. She wasn’t some starry-eyed little girl anymore. And Devon was hers.
He was hers.
* * *
Weston tried and failed to break Marek’s grip. “Let me go.”
“Calm down.”
Rose and Juliette were still fighting, and it was not a girly fight. They weren’t throwing punches. They were going for soft parts and vulnerable joints. Nasty fighting.
“Help her!” Weston demanded of Marek.
Marek let go of him. At nearly the same time, Franco let go of Devon, who he’d been holding with one arm while trying to calm Juliette with the other.
Weston looked at Devon. Devon Asher. The man who’d been meant to have Rose.
“Do you know what they did to her?” he spat at Devon.
Devon’s face was an expressionless mask.
Weston tried to stay calm but the words came, and with them fresh anger. “They started raping her, beating her, when she was a teenager, to prepare her for you.”
Devon’s mouth opened. “What? Prepare her…”
“For you.”
“No, it was their way of controlling her.”
“You were betrothed to her. It was your job—your right to protect her. And you didn’t.”
Devon’s jaw clenched. “I would have loved her. Taken care of her.” His eyes narrowed. “Them? You mean your parents. She grew up with you. It was your parents who did that to her.”
Devon was right, and if Weston’s long-suppressed jealousy and rage hadn’t been eating away at his insides like an acid, he might have been able to acknowledge that. But he really wanted to punch Devon in the face. Weston lunged.
* * *
Before Juliette could land the next blow, Franco interfered, gripping her around the waist, holding her arms against her sides so that she was helpless.
She cussed at him, crying out. “Let me go!”
His hold could have spelled disaster for her if Marek hadn’t managed to subdue Rose as well. That didn’t stop either of them from trying to continue the fight.
* * *
“Ah, for crap’s sake,” Franco yelped as he looked over at Devon and Weston.
Marek grunted as Rose took advantage of his hold to lift both legs and kick at Juliette.
“I’m beginning to sense,” Franco said as he desperately hauled on Juliette, “that we aren’t going to be able to control the situation.”
Control the situation. Marek released Rose, took two long steps, and while Devon was stuck in a headlock, hammering away at Weston’s hip with one fist while Weston tried to choke him, Marek reached into Devon’s coat for the gun. He yanked it out and took two steps back.
He raised the gun, prepared to fire a warning shot.
“No!” at least three people yelped.
Everyone stopped fighting and froze in place, as if he were holding a bomb.
Marek cleared his throat. “Please stand with your backs against the wall. Rose, Weston, on my left. Juliette, Devon, on my right. Franco, if you would be so good as to stand over there and help me keep an eye on the situation, I’d appreciate it.”
Franco smiled. “Sure thing.”
Juliette, Rose, Devon, and Weston were all breathing heavily. Rose’s shirt hung open, a bruise forming on the top of her breast, Juliette was dabbing at a bloody lip, Devon’s nose was bleeding profusely though he didn’t even bother to wipe it away, and Weston’s good eye was puffy.
* * *
Juliette took a moment to catch her breath. “I’m sorry,” she said at last to the room at large. She was the Grand Master of the Trinity Masters and she’d just lost her shit. Completely.
Franco walked over to her, cupping her cheek. “It’s okay, love. It’s all going to be okay.”
Juliette shook her head, just once. She’d never felt so defeated.
As always, Franco knew the way to bolster her, to infuse some of his endless positivity into her. “Take control of the situation, Juliette. You know what needs to be said. Say it.”
She looked across the room at Rose, fighting to put aside her anger, her guilt. Juliette, her family, the Trinity Masters…they had all failed Rose.
Failed her and Weston.
“Are you okay, Juliette?” Marek asked, taking recon of the room, checking out everyone’s injuries.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, managing to give Franco and Marek a weak smile.
* * *
Rose
looked at Juliette. They’d lost. Everything they hadn’t wanted to happen, had. They’d been caught. They hadn’t learned anything.
And, worst of all, Marek was standing with Juliette and Franco, chatting with them casually. His back was to her and Weston.
“Marek,” she whispered.
“Damn it. Damn.” Weston put his arm around her, hugging her close. “I’m sorry, Brown Eyes.”
“No, I’m sorry.” She laid her head on his shoulder.
Devon walked up. “Rose.”
She looked up. “Devon.”
“If…if I’d known, what they were doing to you…”
“You couldn’t have stopped them. I was protecting someone.”
“I could have tried. I would have.”
Rose felt the sincerity in the words. She and Devon had been classmates, and there had been times, plenty of them, when she’d considered telling him. But when they’d been in school, she always locked away the memories of what happened to her at the Andersons’ house. She used her time at school to pretend to be normal. “Thank you for that.”
Weston stiffened at her words, but Rose ignored him. “When Juliette broke our trinity, it stopped them from getting leverage to the Grand Master. It was better this way.”
Devon examined her, looking rather helpless, then held out a hand. “Rose, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
Rose gave him a one-armed hug, keeping hold of Weston’s hand with her free one so he wouldn’t misinterpret the gesture.
* * *
Juliette looked across the wide expanse, her heart in her throat as she watched Devon talking to Rose. She closed her eyes when Rose leaned toward him for a hug.
“Come with me,” she heard Devon say to Rose and Weston.
Devon had taken the gun back from Marek, but it was in the shoulder holster again, not drawn and pointed at Rose. Juliette pushed that thought away.
