Page 94 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

FINN

T his was the biggest risk of my life. Years of games. Years of sacrifices. All of it leading to this moment.

I’d put my trust in the very man I came here to slaughter. Arthur Bowen. My enemy. My father’s executioner’s son.

But I’ve studied the Bowens since I was ten years old.

I know their tells. Their quirks. Their brand of cruelty. And Arthur’s reaction earlier told me everything—that this wasn’t him. Taking my wife would never be his play. He knows what I’m capable of. He knows better.

And something in my gut is telling me to trust him. Worst case, as soon as the bullet rips through me, our army will be in here quick enough to save Stephanie. That’s what I’m telling myself. That she will be saved.

A shot fires.

Stephanie’s muffled scream rips through the room, drowning out everything else. My pulse hammers, my body braces, waiting for the bullet. For the ripping pain. For the end.

But it never comes.

When I open my eyes, James is already crumbling at my feet. His gun clatters uselessly to the floor. He’s clawing at his chest, his ruined face twisting in disbelief before his knees slam against the carpet.

And Arthur stands over him. Chest heaving. His own weapon still smoking.

For a split second, I can’t move. Relief and suspicion collide inside me. Because Arthur Bowen doesn’t save lives. Not unless it feeds his own survival. But this is different. He’s been betrayed by his own blood.

Our eyes lock. His grief is naked, his fury at the truth of betrayal written all over him. But I don’t let myself soften. I can’t afford to.

I lunge forward, grabbing James’s fallen gun just as the door bursts open and chaos explodes in. Declan and Conan, weapons raised, rage burning in their eyes. Frankie right behind, Zara at his shoulder. All of their weapons pointing at Arthur.

“Don’t!” My roar tears out. “No one touches him! Not yet!”

The whole room freezes. Every muscle wound tight, every barrel trained. But I keep my gaze on Arthur, but I’m well aware James is still alive.

“I’m giving you one chance, Arthur,” I growl. “One. You hand me James, and I will offer you a chance to live.”

Every gun shifts, the tension balanced on a blade’s edge. But Arthur just exhales, the fight bleeding out of his shoulders. He lowers his weapon.

“He’s all yours.”

He spits in James’s bloodied face, the sound harsh in the silence. “You’re no brother of mine.”

I turn to Conan, who is seething.

“Con. Take Arthur. You get to decide if he lives or dies. Give him the opportunity to fight back. Have Declan go with you.”

Conan nods, and Arthur freezes. The chances of him surviving are slim, but so were Jame’s. A shot to live is better than a bullet in the skull.

And he understands that. This is me giving him grace for saving my life.

I give him a nod. Behind me, my family parts just enough to let him through, Conan grabbing him by the arm with a snarl.

Arthur earned the right to fight for his life tonight.

He’s lost everything else; that punishment is heavier than any bullet.

And now, he must fight with everything he has left. But to me, it’s done. My brothers will make their judgments.

I have something far more important.

Stephanie.

My temptress. My wife.

“Grab him,” I order, jerking my chin at James as I cross the room. Frankie and Zara get to work moving him.

Then I’m on my knees in front of her, the world dissolving into static. My hands shake as I tear at the restraints, cursing when the rope bites deeper into her wrists.

“Easy, love. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.” My voice breaks, but I don’t care.

I’m not a robot. I do have so many emotions when it comes to her. And I’m no longer afraid to show them.

The second she’s free, she launches into me. Her body slams into mine so hard I lose my breath. She clings to me, sobbing into my neck, as though if she lets go I’ll vanish.

“Finn—” Her voice shatters against my ear. “I thought—I thought you were?—”

“I know.” My arms lock around her, crushing her to me. My chest splits wide open as I bury my face in her hair. “I’m here. You hear me? I’m fucking here. I’ll never leave you. I’m sorry.”

Her hands find my face, dragging me back until I’m staring into her eyes—wild, terrified, glistening.

“I can’t lose you,” she cries. “I can’t?—”

“You won’t.” My thumb brushes the tears from her cheek. “Not now. Not ever. You’re mine, Stephanie. Always.”

And when I kiss her, it isn’t desperate. It isn’t frantic.

It’s a vow.

One I’ll burn the entire world to keep.