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“See you soon,” I hear the man’s voice echo through the darkness before it all fades away. At that moment, I know my only hope is Felix, and I pray he’s coming for me.

Chapter Forty-Three

Felix Greyson

The fucking air is thick with tension as Angel and I make our way towards the house while Matteo heads off to the milking station. I can’t shake this feeling that something is off, and I grip my knife’s handle in anticipation.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” I mutter to Angel as we pick up the pace, my muscles tensing.

“Got it,” he replies, his jaw clenched.

Then it happens—an ear-splitting scream pierces through the night like a goddamn bullet. It’s coming from the house, and it sounds like pure fucking terror. Aurora.

“Shit!” I snap, the words barely leaving my lips before Angel and I start sprinting towards the source of the sound.

“Matteo! Spike!” I yell, not caring about giving away our position anymore. Whatever is going on in there, Aurora is hurt—or worse.

Matteo and Spike turn and race towards us, forgoing the milking station. The urgency in their movements makes itclear that the action is in the house. We’re all on high alert now, adrenaline pumping through our veins like liquid fire.

We reach the house’s entrance, each of us ready for a fight. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, a mix of rage and fear threatening to consume me. But I can’t let that happen—Aurora needs me. And for her, I’d walk through fire and come out the other side to keep her safe.

The door looms before us, a barrier between the source of that gut-wrenching scream and me. There is no fucking way I’m letting this stand between Aurora and me.

“Stand back,” Angel growls, his boot connecting with the door like a goddamn wrecking ball. Splinters fly, and the door crashes inwards. Weapons raised, we charge inside, ready for anything.

“Upstairs!” Matteo barks to Spike, who wastes no time following. They pound up the steps, leaving Angel and me to scour the first floor. My heart is racing, fear clawing at my insides. That scream! I know the sound of pain all too well. And if someone is hurting Aurora?—

“Basement!” Angel shouts from the kitchen, his voice strained and urgent. Fuck. I sprint towards him, every muscle in my body tensing as I prepare for what’s coming. I’m not afraid of fighting, but the thought of losing sends cold chills down my spine when it comes to her.

I bolt towards the basement door, my heart pounding like a fucking jackhammer. There is no time to be careful or strategise. Aurora’s life is on the line, and if it costs me mine, so be it.

“Shit!” I hiss, stumbling down the stairs, my hands gripping the railing tight enough to turn my knuckles white. Thesmell of dampness and decay fills my nostrils as the darkness threatens to swallow me whole.

“Fuck’s sake, Felix,” Angel barks from behind me. “Slow the fuck down!”

“Can’t,” I grit out, my pulse throbbing in my ears.

“Matteo, we’re in the basement!” Angel shouts up the stairs, his voice echoing through the house. He follows, his heavy footsteps reigniting the fear that grips my chest. We don’t have much time.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” he warns, his gun at the ready. “No telling what kind of shit we’ll find down here.”

“Got it,” I mutter, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger or Aurora. She has to be here. She has to be.

The stale scent of dampness and decay floods my nostrils as Angel and I round the last step, the concrete walls echoing our heavy breaths. Four doors line the hallway, their paint chipped and aged like the memories of hope I’m trying to cling to. One of these fucking doors has to be hiding Aurora. She has to be in this godforsaken place.

“Stay alert,” Angel mutters, his voice low and tense. His eyes dissect the darkness, searching for anything that might pose a threat.

“Got it,” I reply, my hand gripping my knife’s cold steel even tighter. No way I’m letting Aurora stay in this hellhole any longer.

We haven’t walked more than a few steps when the door to the right of me suddenly smashes open. A masked man explodes into view, his gun raised like a fucking psychopath. My heart skips a beat, but Angel is quicker than the bastard.

“Duck!” he yells, and I obey without question. Crouchingdown, I can feel the heat of a bullet whizzing past my head as Angel takes his shot. Gunfire ricochets off the walls, deafening me for an instant.

The masked man drops like a sack of potatoes, his lifeless body hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pools around his head, the one shot between his eyes leaving no room for doubt. He’s dead, and he fucking deserves it.

“Nice shot,” I say, adrenaline pumping through me as I stand back up.

“Thanks,” Angel replies, his eyes already scanning the remaining doors. “We need to find her… fast.”