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Gilli. Where is Gilli? What did he do to her? Is she okay?

I can’t get a word out, can only curl on my side, huddling against the agony.

And then a very loud sharp crack splinters through the harried grunts of my breathing.

“Why don’t you fuck off and die already?” It’s Aiden and he sounds breathless.

Another ear-splitting crack sounds and I force myself to peel my eyes open. The entire world is blurry. But I can see Ghostface stumble back a step, his hands over his stomach. A slow parade of crimson spreads there.

And slightly behind me is Aiden, swaying on his feet and holding a hunting rifle between his hands.

“Stomach wound,” he explains to the other man. “You already know. It’s a slow bleed out unless the cops get here fast enough to save your ass. I’m going to enjoy watchingyouthis time.”

Chapter 35

Gilli

Blue and red rays of light slice through the dark night, heralding the arrival of the police.

I never thought I’d be happy to see them.

Especially not the pig-faced man with the voice to match the one who hung up on me. This time he swaggers through the door with a cadre of other officers behind him, their guns trained on the figures on the floor.

“Freeze, motherfuckers!” He glances at Tase and grins. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Tase took down one of them on his own, Aiden the other two, while Soren was bound the entire time.

What did I do? I took off my clothes. And when the chips fell, I’d tried to make a move. I shouldn’t have hesitated the way I did. Rather than going for maximum pain, I should have just gouged his eyes right out of their sockets. Popped them like little grapes.

The cops slap handcuffs on all three of them, muttering about the right to remain silent. The EMTs are on the way, someone assures us, but they are still a few minutes out.

Maxxx8U may not even survive a trip to the hospital.

He looks so ordinary without the mask. He could be any guy in a crowd, with mousy cashew-colored hair and an egothe size of Texas. He doesn’t look like someone who swoops in and ruins lives. Who makes people go through literal hell. And for what?

I want to ask him but the words are lost somewhere.

I’ve found my shirt and covered my nakedness, but the discomfort and embarrassment slide away along with my own aches as I lunge for Tase, running my fingers along his face until his eyes flutter closed.

“Are you okay?” Touching him is less reassuring than I want it to be.

I feel my way over his familiar features until he blows out a breath. “Check on them. I’m fine,” he manages.

He is nowhere near fine and we both know it. I kiss him firmly on the lips. He tastes like paranoia and terror and relief.

“You’re here. I can’t believe you came,” I whisper.

“I’d never let you go. You know that.”

Then Aiden groans and I crane my neck over to look at him. He’s as white as a sheet, the rifle on the counter and his knuckles gripping the edge just to stay upright.

My heart thoroughly lodges in my throat and likely staying there for the rest of my life. I hurry to Aiden. He does his best to smile at me but pain etches into his features.

There’s no relief when I glance down at his leg and see a piece of bone poking through the fabric of his pants. Blood still gushes from the wound.

“Look at me,” he manages to get out. “A regular action hero. Think I can put this on my resume, baby?”

“Youarea hero. My hero.”