Page 11 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

He turned, mirroring her position. Close, so close, but not touching.

“I work in the robberies team. We were hunting a gang who were pulling off high-value hits. Serious money, serious planning. It was like they were bloody invisible. Left nothing behind, no forensics, no cameras, no patterns. Every job was a total fucking humiliation.” Her mouth twisted, the bitterness like a blade under her skin.

“The Met was desperate. We were desperate. Command kept hammering us, we had to find them, before they made us all look like total bloody idiots again.”

She exhaled roughly through her nose.

“My boss warned me. Told me I was getting obsessed, that I needed to step back before I lost perspective. He didn’t really mean it though.

Not when every day we didn’t catch them made us look shitter.

We needed the win.” She looked down at her hands like they were remembering things her mind tried not to.

“I kept pushing. Getting closer, much closer than I realised. I started to feel like I was being followed. After work, on the tube and near my flat. Threatening letters started arriving at work, emails and texts from numbers that didn’t trace anywhere.

My flat didn’t feel safe anymore, nowhere did. ”

She blew out a slow breath, her face tight.

“I stopped sleeping, and basically lived at the office. I thought if I caught them, it would all stop.” Her jaw flexed, once.

“One night, I came home late after a long shift. I was dead on my feet, my head was pounding, stomach empty, I was totally fucked. All I could think about was a hot shower and sleep. I didn’t even notice the latch was off.

I just turned the key and stepped inside.

There were six of them. Waiting in the dark, no masks, or weapons drawn.

Just standing there, calm, like I was the one intruding. ”

Eiran didn’t move, but his hands had gone perfectly still.

“I backed up. Reached for the door, but one of them, Tom, I’ll never forget his name, slammed it shut behind me.

Another grabbed my hair and dragged me in further.

I kicked, screamed and nearly got free. But they’d planned it, I think they must have practised it.

” Her voice cracked, not from tears, but fury.

“They stripped me, cut all my clothes off piece by piece. Mocked me, spat in my face and one of them took photos.”

Eiran’s jaw ticked once, the muscle clenched like stone.

“They tied electrical cord around my ankles and wrists. Even my neck, just to watch me choke. One of them whipped me with some of the left over cable until my back was raw. Another burned me with cigarettes, my thigh, my stomach, between my fingers.” She blinked, as if detaching.

“They held me down while one of them burnt me with a blowtorch and the others cut into me. Shallow lines. They were playing games, betting whether I’d pass out before they hit ten.

I think I blacked out once or twice and at one point I woke up to someone whispering in my ear that no one was coming and he was right. ”

Eiran’s hands were shaking now, she noticed but went on.

“They poured bleach over me. Not to clean, just to make me scream. They didn’t just hurt me, Eiran.

Bleach on me, on the walls, on the floor.

Just to destroy, just to hurt. They choreographed it, every move.

While I lay there half-conscious, they dismantled the flat.

They ripped out my hard drives, took my notes.

Crushed anything that held evidence.” Her voice tightened.

“They tipped over my bookshelves, tore up photos. Poured coffee grounds into every drawer, smashed mirrors. All while I lay there. Naked and shaking. They didn’t just brutalise me, they obliterated me from my own home. ”

She drew a long, brittle breath.

“One of them did leave something.” Her voice thinned, fraying at the edges. “Just a piece of electrical wire, coiled under my pillow.”

She looked through him.

“I found it when I came back from the hospital and I think it did more damage than the wounds.” Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching.

She swallowed. “When they left, they didn’t turn the lights off.

Didn’t close the curtains, they left me on the floor to die.

Naked and bleeding, for everyone to see. ”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of everything that didn’t have words.

“But I didn’t die,” she said calmly. “After a time, I crawled to my phone. Called it in and lay there, shivering, until the ambulance came. One of the paramedics couldn’t even look at me properly. I was in hospital for weeks and they still haven’t been caught.”

Her hands shook, but her voice did not. “The Met have all but shelved me. I’ve got scars all over and now I have nightmares that don’t go away when I wake up, it was truly an experience.”

Eiran didn’t speak. His fury was blistering, his magic buzzed beneath his skin like it wanted to break loose.

“I thought you might’ve been sent by them,” Maeve said quietly. “That’s why I ran, why I didn’t trust you or the bond. I thought it was part of the game and that they’d sent you to find me.”

When Eiran finally spoke, his voice was a blade. “They will not live,” he said. “Not one of them.”

She didn’t argue.

“I came here to heal, but really, I was running. I hate that… I hate that they made me afraid.” Her voice broke.

“You said I ran towards trouble, but this time I didn’t.

” She turned her head to him, eyes glassy.

“I’m not afraid of much, but they took something from me and I don’t know how to get it back. ”

He turned fully, his face inches from hers, his expression thunder. “I’ll kill them,” he said, low and final. “Each one. Painfully. Slowly. Without a drop of remorse.”

She didn’t flinch, just looked at him, maybe surprised, but not scared.

“I swear it,” he added, voice rough. “By my blood and every fucking star in the sky.”

Her last bit of restraint cracked then and she closed the gap between them.

Pressing her face to his chest, breathing in his warmth and the strange fizzy pull of his magic and Eiran held still, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself from wrapping around her completely.

Eventually, her breathing slowed, her hand curled at the fabric of his shirt, her voice a whisper. “Eiran.”

He looked down.

“Don’t leave.” Tucking herself tighter against him, cheek pressed against his chest.

Eiran held her for a long time, then he slipped the velvet pouch into her dress pocket and rose slowly, one arm behind her shoulders, the other beneath her knees.

She shifted, tensing briefly, but when her eyes opened and locked on his, the panic melted.

She exhaled his name like a promise, then closed her eyes again, burrowing against him, wholly surrendered.

He carried her through the sleepy streets of Lisbon, the world quiet and silvered.

When they reached her holiday flat, he glanced at the door, with intention magic, the lock clicked and he stepped inside and walking straight to the bedroom, took her jacket off and laid her down gently.

He studied her then, the faint moonlight across her freckles, the scars still visible on her legs.

Then he turned to the small, rickety armchair by the window and sank into it with a sigh, one leg draped over the side and watched her a moment longer, and for the first time in over a century, he closed his eyes with peace.