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Rachel

I willed myself to count to ten before I reacted.

Vienna was still doing his best to support the weight of Shark, who struggled to stand against the agony of his stab wound.

His face was tight with pain, his eyes screwing shut as Vienna attempted to move him across the room and lay him down on the bed.

I could see Vienna’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear a word over the sound of my blood rushing through my body and pounding in my ears.

The fear was eating me up. The dread I could feel was strong enough that I could almost taste it. Everywhere I looked, there was more blood to find, more damage to see – evidence of the struggle that had taken place.

Time seemed to stand still as the past rushed up to greet me.

“Dante wasn’t in a good way. If we don’t find him soon, they’ll kill him.”

“Pack your shit and leave with your mother. I’m fucking done. Think what you want of me, but I won’t be labelled a fucking rapist and child abuser.”

Two conversations that would plague me with guilt for the rest of my life if anything happened to Dante.

Whilst I was sitting downstairs with my mother, Dante had been up here fighting for his life. And from his own older brother.

What the fuck had I done?

Why the fuck had I been so na?ve and stupid? Playing in the past, allowing memories to wash over oneself, was a dangerous game. Hindsight came with the luxury of seeing how stupid you were, so you wouldn’t repeat those actions again in the future.

Unfortunately for me, I had been fucking na?ve with Alex, and even more na?ve when it came to Macbeth.

I was just too selfish and stupid to see it.

This was all my fault. If I had just controlled my temper and held my tongue for once in my fucking life, Dante wouldn’t have been up here alone.

He would have cancelled his meeting with Macbeth and stayed with me as I met with my mother in the pub downstairs.

He would have been by my side, being my anchor.

Dante was a bad man. But he was a bad man who fucking cared about me.

He would have put all plans aside to be there for me because he would have known I needed him.

He was the one who organised the reunion with my mum, for fuck’s sake.

He was the one who presented the evidence to get my dad released from prison.

He would have been with me every step of the way, if only I had asked.

But, no. Typical old Rachel. I had to remain stubborn, to refuse to allow my walls to come down even a fraction. He wasn’t even asking me to meet him in the middle. He was willing to bend ninety-five percent of the distance, so long as I was willing to meet him in that five percent gap.

And I had been too damned bull-headed to do it.

So instead of being with me, he was up here, being ambushed by his own brother, and God only knows who else.

And now his life was in danger.

I was frozen to the spot, unable to shake the image of Dante being hurt. The flash of pain in his eyes when I had hurled my venom at him had been bad enough. The thought of him physically being hurt was an image that made me sick to my stomach.

Are you ready to admit what everyone else has been able to see for a while now, Rachel?

I couldn’t even entertain that thought. If I admitted it now, and it was too late…?

I was scared to even open that can of worms.

What was the point of admitting anything if I didn’t get the chance to rectify my mistakes?

No, it was much better to protect my heart, just in case the worst happened. If I never admitted it to myself, I couldn’t be hurt by his loss.

It was bullshit, and I knew it. But it was the only way I was able to get through this.

I looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened .

The window frame had been removed, and the bedsheets were messed up.

Dante’s mother was a pain in the ass for making the beds every morning – the woman thought she was running a fucking hotel the way she huffed about with fresh bedding.

I had watched her many times, grumbling about the lazy cunts that called this place a home.

She compared the rooms to pigsties if the corners of the sheets weren’t tucked in to her exact specifications.

The woman had no life. It would be a cold day in hell before I gave a shit about the corners of my bedsheets, but the fact that it was a mess told me that there had been a struggle.

Well, I suggest every detective in town hang up their hat and send themselves off on retirement. Detective Rachel is here! As if Shark being stabbed wasn’t sign enough that there was a fucking struggle.

That was another reason I needed Dante back. With him gone, I had no one to direct my sarcasm towards, and it sucked being on the receiving end of it.

“Rachel?” Vienna snapped, bringing my attention back to the present. “You need to get Doc in here, now!” He hissed at me.

Vienna laid Shark down on the messy bed and placed his palms over the wound to stop the blood flow. I tried not to flinch as it dawned on me how much evidence they were now ruining.

Get a fucking grip, Rachel. They’re not going to be bringing the police here, are they?

Excellent point. Well made.

Blood seeped from underneath Vienna’s hands, and he swore under his breath, pushing down even harder, his eyes sad as he apologised to his wounded brother.

I looked at Shark, his face growing paler by the second, and I snapped to my senses. We’d figure out a plan later. We had to make sure Shark survived this.

“Rachel!” Vienna snapped again, his face a blanket of rage.

“Right. Sorry. Where would he be?”

“Garage,” he snapped, throwing me a filthy look.

“I’m on it.”

“Get Mama whilst you’re out there. And Crash. Crash needs to be here. ”

“I’ll get everyone,” I promised, my legs finally coming to life. Vienna gave me a quick nod before his attention went back to his brother.

I left the room, barrelling down the hallway as though my sleep paralysis demon was giving chase.

Why wasn’t everyone here already? Surely, they could sense something was wrong?

How had we all been so fucking blind to an upcoming attack that we hadn’t even noticed Macbeth removing a goddamn window frame?

Because there were just too many people frequenting this place, that’s why.

At all times, there were always at least a dozen people flittering about here, there, and everywhere.

I had lost count of the number of times someone would waltz in with a can of paint, ready to touch up one area, or a hammer to hang something Mama had requested.

This house was a labour of love, reflecting the passage of time they all shared, and everyone pitched in.

No one would think anything of Macbeth walking around with a tool kit.

But in Dante’s room?!

Another wave of nausea hit as it dawned on me that I had been the perfect distraction.

Whilst Dante was so focused on us and had been spending so much time in my room, it hadn’t occurred to him to bother checking the state of his own.

Especially when I had burnt his clothes, leaving the entire room smelling like smoke.

Dante had rarely spent a night in there since.

I flew down the stairs, my heart in my throat, my imagination running wild. All I could see once again was Dante being hurt. It was impossible to imagine that big, strong, dangerous man coming to any harm, and yet it was impossible to think of anything else.

Would his thoughts be of me? Would he regret wasting his time with me if he knew how close to the end he was?

Stop it, Rachel! He’s not going to fucking die!

But there was a fucking chance! Unlike me, he hadn’t been kidnapped to play babysitter to a child that wasn’t his. Macbeth wasn’t planning a cosy tea party for two.

There was no fear of the unknown, because we all knew exactly how this could end .

I jumped the last few steps, my vision blurring as stupid, useless tears came to my eyes. I furiously wiped them away, not seeing the small figure emerge in front of me, until the soft “whoa” came from them, and two hands reached out to steady me.

“What’s the hurry, Rachel? What’s happened?” I heard the voice of my mother, her face coming into focus.

This is all I fucking need!

“I need Crash,” was all I could say, wiping away more useless tears.

What good were tears? They couldn’t solve anything!

I had to get a grip on my emotions. Emotions made you weak, and that was the one thing I could not afford to be right now.

There would be time for weakness when this was all said and done.

“Who is Crash? Honestly, there’s no need for all these silly names. It would be much easier if you just—”

“Mother, I am fucking crying and all you can talk about is nicknames? Oh, forget it!” I hissed, pushing her to the side, and barged into the pub. I didn’t have the patience for her at the best of times. Now was certainly not the best of times.

“Rachel!” I heard her snap from behind me, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she followed me.

“I won't be spoken to like that, young lady! I’m sorry you’re upset, but this is completely unacceptable!

I thought we had finally made peace with each other after our little chat this evening.

How can you think it’s appropriate to speak to your own mother as though she’s dirt you picked up on the road? Honestly, Rachel…”

She continued droning on, but I drowned out her voice as I looked around the crowded room, trying to see Crash’s large figure, but it was impossible with so many people around.

They were all huddled together, having seen Vienna grab the shotgun off the wall.

None of them knew what was happening, but they were all hanging around, waiting for word that they would be needed.

That was a lie.