Page 37

Matthias

I pull into her driveway four minutes after she did. I pushed the speed limit the entire way, knowing every second counts.

I park behind a black van and throw my car into park. The second I step out, I hear it. Loud, furious barking.

I freeze.

Benny .

He’s clawing at the window of my Mercedes, throwing his entire weight against the door, teeth bared, growling like a rabid animal.

But not at me.

At the house.

Something is wrong.

A pressure clamps around my chest, squeezing my lungs. My feet move before my brain can catch up.

I hear Roman coming up behind me.

“What’s wrong? What–” He’s cut off by a sound that’ll haunt me forever, a scream cutting through the air.

Margot’s scream .

The anger evaporates as everything inside me shatters.

I’m running. Roman’s at my heels, yanking out two guns and tossing one into my waiting hand.

Fear like I’ve never experienced consumes me.

Because the next sound is worse than her scream. So much worse.

Silence.

Her screams are cut off.

My heart slams against my ribs, my ears are ringing so loudly I can’t hear myself breathe.

I break down the front door, gun raised, ready to kill.

Then I see her.

My Margot.

On the floor.

Her shirt torn, leaving her bra exposed. Leggings shoved so low I can’t see where they begin.

A man pins her down, holding her wrists above her head. Another sits on her legs, pulling at her panties.

The third stands nearby, watching. Waiting.

Margot is gone. Her eyes are clenched shut. She’s facing the door, but she doesn’t see me. She isn’t looking. She isn’t moving. She isn’t fighting.

She’s given up.

My spitfire is out of fight. They took her fight from her.

I can’t breathe.

A bullet tears through the head of the man on her legs before I even realize I pulled the trigger. His body jerks, then collapses on top of her.

On top of Margot.

I almost fucking vomit.

Roman’s shots go off. Two more bodies hit the ground.

I don’t know if they’re dead. I don’t care .

Roman moves past me, gripping one of the men by the collar. “Go to her,” he mutters gently in a tone I’ve never heard from him before.

A tone that tells me just how bad this is.

I don’t remember moving. One second, I’m frozen. The next, I’m shoving the dead bastard off her, nearly breaking at the sight of blood smeared across her skin.

I know it’s not hers. But it doesn’t matter.

Margot. My Margot. Covered in blood.

She’s limp. Her arms stay where he pinned them, like she’s still trapped there. Her breathing is slow and weak.

She’s not here.

She doesn’t even flinch when I touch her, gently pulling her pants back into place, trying to close her torn shirt.

Nothing.

I failed her.

I failed her.

I let her run. Right into this.

I wasn’t there to protect her.

I lift her into my arms and hold her so tightly I think I might crush her, but I can’t help it. She’s small, fragile, breakable in a way I never want to see again.

She should be cursing me out. Kicking. Fighting.

But there’s nothing.

I feel like I’m holding a mannequin.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t let her see how wrecked I am.

“Margot, sweetheart. My sweet girl. Are you in there?” My voice breaks.

Nothing.

I swallow back the terror ripping through me, and try again, rocking her gently. “Please, sweetheart. Open your eyes for me.”

I press my lips to her forehead, a gentle kiss.

My body sags when she finally stirs .

Her lashes flutter. Her gaze lifts. And when her eyes meet mine, I shatter all over again.

She isn’t there .

No fire. No smartass remarks. No Margot.

Just emptiness.

I can’t handle it.

“Sweetheart, please.” I whisper.

She blinks. Slowly. Like she’s waking up from a nightmare.

I run a trembling hand through her curls. I don’t know what else to do. I just can’t let her go.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” I whisper against her forehead. A promise. A vow. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Her entire body shakes.

And then she breaks.

Sobs rip through her, full body tremors as she clings to me. Like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

I squeeze back tighter than I should. Tighter than she probably wants.

But I can’t let go.

I press my lips to her temple, murmuring over and over, “You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

She sobs against my chest, shaking, so small in my arms.

I don’t know how long I hold her.

I just know I’ll never let her go again.