Page 42 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)

Dennis

T here had only been a handful of seconds between the moment the four of us kicked off from the roof and the clatter of breaking glass as we repelled down to the massive windows into Rook’s private torture chamber.

Quentin had used his silenced gun to put several bullets into the glass, the spidery cracks spreading almost simultaneously as our collective boots met the fragile panes, caving the wall of windows inward

Without the benefit of eye or hearing protection, the flash bang that followed our entrance left both Lowry and Frank reeling.

Caz and Seb immediately take their positions, attaching explosives to the remaining window frames, the walls, and continuing their way around the perimeter of the room—as Lowry and Frank struggle to get a grip on their handguns. Quentin and I have already drawn ours on her and Frank.

As the dust and the din settles, Frank takes a firm hold of both of his guns from their shoulder holsters and levels his aim at Quentin and I.

Lowry trains her muzzle on Louise, bound to a wooden St. Andrew’s Cross on the far end of the room.

“All right, boys, settle down—that's quite enough” Lowry’s sigma bark rings through the quiet of the room, all the muscles standing out in her jaw as she grits her teeth—gun still pointed at Louise.

The intensity of Louise's pleas along the bond only grow in strength and fervor the closer we get to her and Frank in the Country Estate.

She bought a small amount of time for herself at the cost of admitting she was in fact the key to the cure, along with the caveat that the cure came with a designation shift.

This had the dual purpose of attempting to plant a seed to dissuade the Windmill from releasing the augmented Zeitnot virus, in addition to buying Louise precious minutes, maybe even hours of time until we could make her rescue.

Through the chemistry of Caz’s theta compounds and the bond of fated mates, we were able to hear Louise across the bond. Frank aided in her deception, taking every opportunity he could to play for time without giving himself or Louise away.

So why now, when we so greatly outnumber Susan Lowry—does he point his gun at Quentin and I?

Caz and Sébastien finish fastening explosives to the door, leading from the torture chamber back into the hallway, and freeze along with everyone else.

The face of Lowry's smartwatch flickers as she holds her gun in a classic teacup grip.

Without moving her finger from the trigger, Susan releases her grip on the butt of her gun and taps the face of the watch.

“Lowry, what the hell is going on up there?” A deep voice calls from the tiny device.

“Kent, keep everybody off of the east wing; the whole thing's wired to blow,” Susan snaps officiously.

“What the hell do you mean the whole thing's wired to blow?” The man’s voice blusters.

“Kent, If you wanna be useful, quit asking questions and get me a team that can breach from above but tell them to keep a healthy distance. I'm inactive negotiations,” Susan barks out.

“Active negotiations!? Who the hell authorized this? You’ve gone too far this time, Susan. We’re—” before the man's voice can finish, Lowry taps another finger angrily against the face of her watch, returning her hand to the butt of her gun.

“You boys are going to have to step very carefully if you don't want me to paint the walls with Miss Penny here.”

If I hadn't known Susan Lowry, if I had never seen the way she looked at Louise—even with the cynical angle that Lowry couldn’t waste Louise on account of the fact that Louise was the key to the cure—I might have actually thought Susan wasn't bluffing.

“Cut the bullshit, Susan!” I bark, flexing my alpha aura on her. “We all know. You're not gonna shoot her.”

Susan lifts her chin.

“I wouldn't push me if I were you, Dennis,” she warns.

“Ever the optimist, aren’t we, Susan? Brave of you to assume you'd be the one to shoot first,” Quentin chimes in, eager not to be forgotten.

“I'd be willing to put my money on Frank if we’re talking about who would shoot first,” Susan levels coldly.

“And all of you seem to forget that I am the man with the big red button!” Seb pipes up, stepping into view beside Louise, holding up a small black controller with the aforementioned big red button.

“Yeah, big boom wins out over pew pew almost every time,” Caz agrees, appearing over Seb’s shoulder like some bizarro hype-man.

A cruel smile crawls across Susan's face, and she turns her gaze to Louise—addressing her former protégé as if Louise were the only one in the room.

“What gave you the impression that the Windmill are the only ones after you if you leave here?”

“I considered, but I guess I'll take my chances out there on the open road,” Louise bites out.

“You said you wanted the White Knight. Did you ever stop to consider for a moment that he might one day come after you? That the only thing protecting you from him was me—the Windmill?”

I see the smile run away from Louise's face, and I can feel the cold, sharp panic; the metallic tang of her fear as Louise turns over the idea that there may be truth in Lowry's words.

All of us Saints rush to assure her down the bond—lies, deception, another manipulation, another misdirection.

“You've never protected me, Susan. I've only ever been a tool to you. One that you showed great affection for when I served you well. I wonder… if I’d continued to move in the patterns and rhythms of your plans—if I had accepted some of your more cruel offers, if you might still feel that affection for me now.”

Susan's throat bobs as she works to swallow. When she does speak, her voice is hoarse—parched, thin and cracking at the edges.

“Martin Penny.” Susan lets the words land—a bomb that detonates in the room.

And I knew in that moment Susan's words could wound more than a bullet fired from her gun ever could.

“What did you say?” Louise barely manages to get the question out, her eyelids fluttering—breath running ragged as her entire body swoons against her bonds.

“Martin Penny is the White Knight. He went rogue while working for the Department of Reproduction. He found out that his brother and his sister-in-law had been working for the DPW on the sly—about the sins his brother and his brother’s wife had committed—and decided they were simply too dangerous to allow to live. ”

“You're a liar. You always have been a fucking viper just waiting to sink her teeth into my fucking neck!” Louise spits furiously, suddenly arcing up off the wooden cross against her bonds.

“Call me as many names as you want to, Louise. It won't change the truth. Once he finds out, he can use you as leverage… don't think he'll be above using his own niece to safeguard the future. ”

A horrible scream tears up and out from deep inside Louise before her body goes limp and still.

There is a silence that hangs suspended—all of us with our guns trained on one another.

I can barely tell the difference between the pounding of my own blood in my ears and the footfall of boots on the rooftop as we run out of time.

It happens so quickly that I almost miss when Frank and Louise lock eyes.

A split second before Frank moves his hand—the muzzle of his gun quickly redirecting—there's barely enough time to register the lift of Susan Lowry's icy blond brows just before he fires.

There's a loud, wet sound, and another hysterical scream escapes Louise as her face is spattered with the scarlet heat of Susan Lowry's blood.

All of us have dropped our guns by the time the ex-section chief of the BSU hits the floor.

There's the muffled zipping noise of Windmill goons repelling down from the roof and swinging into the open hole we made while blasting our way in.

“We have company!” Sébastien yells.

Quentin and I are forced to lend backup to Sébastien and Caz while Frank scrambles to free Louise. We do our best to pick off the armed minions as they advance on us.

“How the fuck do we get out of here?” Caz yelps, ducking behind a large rolling metal toolbox filled with torture devices to get out of the line of fire.

“I'm gonna say the window is out,” Sébastien grunts, falling back to hide behind the barricade with Caz.

Frank returns fire, easily cutting down oncoming attackers as he helps Louise to duck behind an imposing piece of furniture hewn in walnut and marble; popping up every few seconds to take another minion down.

Lowry’s smartwatch continues to ring loudly as a commotion begins in the outside hall .

Evidently, the Windmill had decided the threat of explosions was just a bluff—as the sound of the thumping ram coming from the other side of the closed door indicates that more likely than not the Windmill’s goons are attempting to break the door down.

I make my way, staying low, running across the room to where Frank and Louise are crouched.

“ Merde , I guess we're gonna go out the front door!” Sébastien yells, brandishing another small controller. “Everybody, cover your ears!”

All of us see Sébastien's intention down the bond to blow the door wide open—destroying anyone on the other side.

After the blast, once all of us have made our way out of the torture chamber, Sébastien will blow the rest of the planted explosives in the torture chamber—blasting the rest of the east wing sky-high in our wake.

Frank and I hold Louise between us, her hands cupped over her ears, her head tucked between her knees.

“Dennis, we don't have much time—I need you to listen to me,” Frank sputters urgently, pressing his forehead against mine, cupping his hand over the nape of my neck—our heads knock together with the bridges of our noses nearly touching as he speaks clearly and quickly.

“Things are going to get bad in a hurry. I need you to promise me that no matter how crazy shit gets, you and the boys focus on getting Louise out of here, and you let me handle covering your 6.”

I understand what he's asking of me, but I'm not sure if I can follow through.

“Frank, we can all get out of here—” I begin to protest, but he silences me, covering my mouth with his just as the explosives strapped to the torture chamber door explode.

And then we're up and moving—me taking point, Louise nearly pressed against my back—Frank covering her as Caz, Quentin, and Seb bring up the rear.

We make our way through what's left of the hallway, dust and debris clouding the narrow space while we sprint toward the rotunda, and hopefully, our freedom.

“Hey! Denny! Let me catch up to you—I have a little present for our friends waiting ahead!” Seb calls to me at the head of the pack.

I slow my pace slightly, guiding Louise toward the wall as Sébastien makes his way up the line—a bag of improvised explosives hanging from his shoulder.

Frank and Louise crouch, pressed against the wall about 20 feet from the heavy metal door that separates the east wing from the main rotunda.

“There's about 30 bad guys ready and waiting on the other side of that door,” Caz shouts back at Seb as he reviews security camera feeds throughout The Country Estate from the glassy surface of his mobile.

The other Saints filter in behind the crouching Frank and Louise as I kick the heavy door open, allowing Seb to lob one of his explosives into the wading sea of goons.

A hail of gunfire rains down on the open door before we slam it shut; a loud boom and a wave of pressure from the explosion nearly take the door off of its hinges.

“We've gotta move. They're down, but it won't take long for the Windmill to send reinforcements—we've got to get out of here!” Caz yells, surveying the damage on the grainy security feed.

Even though we made short work of the entrance to Rook's torture chamber in the east wing, there are still Windmill security agents filtering in from deeper in the facility, who begin to traverse the wreckage in short order.

“Remember what I said,” Frank barks at me before he stands, taking Louise with him—his hands clamped over her shoulders.

“There aren't words strong enough to show my repentance, to beg your forgiveness, or to atone for my sins, sweet Lucifer,” he speaks, voice soft and shaky with the unshed tears.

“I could throw myself into the fires of hell—cast all the broken pieces of my twisted soul into the infernal crucible—the flame seeking purification and finding none.”

Louise stands frozen, their eyes locked together as the world explodes and crumbles around us, as if they were the only two people in the room—in the universe.

“So let me do this last thing for you—for our fated mates.” He lets his hands fall from her shoulders, even as Louise slowly shakes her head.

He crosses his hands over his chest, reaching once again for the trusty guns in his shoulder holsters.

“I have your backs, but I need you to run like hell.”

“No,” Louise answers flatly, shaking her head. “We can all make it out if you just?—”

But the moment has passed, and already dust and bits of plaster fly through the air as bullets find homes in the walls beside us.

“Move!” Quentin yells from behind as he and Caz explode toward the entrance to the Rotunda, Seb already halfway across the debris-strewn marble floor.

Before I can grab ahold of her, Louise springs forward and traps Frank's mouth in a deep kiss, biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood—to seal the mating bond.

Joyous surprise flashes in Frank’s eyes for a split second before he cups her face, guns still clutched in his hands—and returns her bite, his pearly canines piercing through her bottom lip on the left side.

As quickly as they've joined together, Frank shoves Louise into my arms and grins, mouth bloody as he disappears down the hall—picking off Windmill minions as he goes.

I lift the hysterical Louise into the air, dragging her kicking and screaming as I follow the other Saints to safety.