Page 41 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

F reedom’s at my back.

Between me and the woman I love are two men that need to die, and a fire that wants to take her from me.

The church won’t last much longer. Flames crawl up the toppled cabinet Cormac shoved into the pyre, climbing the wall, licking at the ceiling.

Smoke thickens—choking, turning every breath into a burn.

The beam Seraphina was tied to glows at its base, embers spreading upward.

When the fire reaches the ceiling joists, the whole goddamn place is coming down.

And then—Cormac’s scream cuts through it all.

He’s rolling, back a sheet of flame, arms flailing. The stench of burning flesh hits me like a hammer. One of his men tears off his jacket, beating at the fire, smothering the blaze before it eats him alive.

It gives me my second.

I take the steps fast, sliding to my knees at her side, next to the bastard she just killed. She’s shaking, sobbing, blood everywhere.

“Killian.” Her voice cracks, breaking me open.

She’s hurt. Bad. Her thigh is pouring blood, her wrists torn raw from the ropes.

I need her gone. I need her safe so I can put my brother in the ground where he belongs. Because after what he’s done to her—after what I’ve just seen—I’m not walking out of here without making him bleed.

Touching her is like life coming back to me.

My knife’s in my hand before I even think, slicing through the bindings on her wrists. She collapses into me, arms tight around my neck, sobbing my name, kissing me like I’m the only thing tethering her to this earth. I kiss her back hard, smoke and salt and blood between us.

“Go. Find Lucian. Get out of here,” I rasp, but she shakes her head.

“Not without you.” Her hands cradle my face, eyes fierce even through tears. “When you go, I go.”

Fucking stubborn, beautiful angel.

Her leg is bleeding like hell. I rip my shirt over my head, tear a strip free, and bind it tight around the wound. She hisses through her teeth but doesn’t pull away. I knot it fast, my hands slick, furious at the blood soaking through already.

“Please, baby,” I growl. “Get out of here.”

Her grip only tightens. Her eyes, red-rimmed and wet, don’t waver. “Not without you.”

Behind us, Cormac coughs out a laugh, hoarse and mean, singed but not dead. “That all you got, brother?” he jeers, spitting blood, voice echoing through the chamber. His man beside him looks ready—fists clenched, eyes locked on me like he’s hungry for another round.

I look back at her.

She’s everything.

I take one more kiss—hard, hasty, desperate—before I rip myself free. “Don’t get killed,” I command, fire in my voice.

She smirks, even through the smoke, even through the blood. “You too.”

The sound of it is a battle cry in my chest.

I rise, knife in hand, ready to end this.

I let them hold me before. Let them think they had me. Gave Cormac his shot at glory, his chance to drag me away from her, because I knew—if I kept their eyes on me, it bought her seconds to get the fuck off that bonfire.

And it worked.

Now it’s different. Now it’s two-on-one, and I’m not holding back.

The first man comes at me fast, fists flying. I catch his punch on my forearm, twist, and drive my elbow into his jaw. Bone cracks. He staggers, but the second slams into my ribs with a blow that makes my chest explode with fire. I spin, fist hammering into his gut, lifting him off his feet.

It’s brutal, ugly—blood and sweat slicking the stone floor, every strike fueled by one thought: get her to daylight.

I’ll kill Cormac in this fire or under the sun, but she’s getting out.

The heavier one catches me across the jaw with a hook that rattles my teeth. I stumble, spitting blood, and he rips free of my grip. He grins, thinking he’s got me.

He doesn’t see her.

Seraphina steps out of the smoke, a length of wood in her hands, the end aflame. She swings it with everything she has. It cracks across his face, embers exploding, fire biting into flesh. He screams, clawing at his eyes.

“Move!” I bark.

She drops—instinct sharp as a blade. My knife is already in the air, spinning end over end, and it buries itself in his face with a wet thud. He drops like a stone.

One left.

Cormac.

But the fire’s part of the fight now, raging hotter, feeding on the wreckage, stealing the air from our lungs. Smoke claws its way into my chest with every breath. The wood above us groans, splinters?—

Cracks.

She hears it too, and her eyes snap up. The ceiling is about to come down.

She doesn’t hesitate. She wrenches my blade from the corpse, hurls herself toward me just as the world caves in.

“Fuck—”

I catch her, drag her in, wrap myself around her as stone and timber crash down, the roar of destruction swallowing everything.

Smoke billows, choking, smothering. For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but fire and weight and her trembling body pressed into mine.

When it settles, I lift my head, coughing hard, eyes burning. The only way out—the stairs beyond this burning room—is buried under rubble. Flames eat it greedily, chewing through splintered beams, climbing higher, hungrier.

Across the debris, Cormac rises—hair singed, face streaked with soot—but his smile is pure malice.

“Looks like we’re all gonna die in here, brother.” His voice is hoarse, broken, but his grin is wide. “Difference is, you’ll go first. I’ll slice your little angel to ribbons while you watch her bleed out. Then I’ll join Father in hell, and we’ll drink to your ruin.”

I stare at him through the smoke, chest heaving, rage boiling hotter than the fire around us.

“You won’t touch her, Cormac. Not a fuckin’ hair.”

I bare my teeth in something that’s not a smile.

“You want hell? I’ll walk you there myself.”

I put her behind me, her small hand pressing my knife into my palm.

Good girl.

“Look for a way out, baby.” My voice is rough, smoke-burned. I don’t take my eyes off Cormac.

He peels off what’s left of his singed shirt, tosses it into the fire like a challenge.

His chest heaves, blackened skin blistering, but his grin is all venom.

Each breath burns deeper, smoke turning our lungs to ash.

Seraphina coughs behind me, and I hear her stumbling through rubble.

She’s weak from blood loss, weaker from the smoke. Time’s running out.

If it comes to it, I’ll sleep easy with her in my arms—so long as my brother rots here in the ashes.

He rips a burning beam from the floor and flings it at me. It sails wide, sparks raining, but I’m already moving. He charges, and I catch him by the throat and the waistband, twist with his momentum, and drive him face-first into the wall. Stone cracks with the impact.

I knee him in the gut. His breath bursts out ragged. My boot slams into his ribs and he staggers, but I don’t give him room. My hand fists in his hair and I slam his face into stone again, pulling him back to see the ruin I’ve made of him—blood streaming, teeth broken, eyes wild.

I grip the knife, knuckles white, and my fist crashes into his face once. Twice.

His body goes slack, dead weight in my hold, but I don’t stop.

Again. Again. Again. My knuckles split, blood slicking the blade’s handle, but I keep going.

“This is for every drop of blood you spilled.”

Crack.

“For every woman you hurt, every soul you ruined.”

Crack.

“For our mother.”

Crack.

“And this—” my fist drives down one last time, his face unrecognizable now, “—this is for touching my angel.”

I feel the moment bones give way—shatter under my strikes. The second shards drive into his brain. The wet gurgle in his throat is the only sound left before he goes still.

I spit beside his body, chest heaving, knuckles raw and dripping.

Cormac. My brother. My curse.

Dead at last.

The fire’s a living thing now—gnawing, clawing, roaring as it devours what’s left of the church. My chest heaves, lungs ripping raw with every breath, but all I can think about is her.

She’s in the corner, slumped against stone, her face pale and streaked with soot, eyes half-lidded. Blood runs down her thigh, soaking the strip of cloth I tied, and each cough wracks her whole body.

I can’t let it end like this. Not with her. Not here.

I grab a beam splintered from the collapse, thick and heavy, and stagger to the wall. I swing it hard—smashing stone, wood, anything that might give. Again. Again. My muscles scream, arms shaking, but the wall doesn’t yield. Each strike steals more of my strength until my knees threaten to give.

Behind me, she chokes—a ragged cough—and when I turn she’s sliding down the wall, her body folding in on itself.

“Angel—” I drop the beam, scrambling to her. Her skin’s cold under the soot, her body trembling against mine.

Her lips part, voice breaking. “I tried…”

My throat closes, but I force the words out—rough and raw. “You did more than try.”

Her hand trembles as it lifts, brushing weakly against my cheek. Her lips barely move, the whisper fragile, fading. “Go…”

I shake my head and kiss her, desperate, pouring everything I am into her mouth. “Not without you.” My voice cracks as I press my forehead to hers, holding her close. “When you go, I go,” I whisper into her ear, tears racing down my smoke-stung cheeks.

I clutch her tighter, willing my strength into her frail body, vowing I’ll never let her go. Not here. Not like this.

And then—a crash on the other side of the wall. Another. Louder. Closer.

The wall a few feet away shudders, dust spilling in a cloud. Then the blade of an ax punches through stone and mortar, sparks flying.

Hope surges hot through my veins.

Another ax. And another. Three blades tearing the wall apart from the other side. Lucian. Jaxon. Damien.

“Hold on, angel,” I murmur, cradling her face, forcing her eyes open. “They’re here. I won’t let you go—not now, not when we’re so close.”

Her lashes flutter, her body weakening against me. I pick her up, clutching her tight, whispering into her hair. “Stay with me, baby. Breathe. Just breathe.”

The hole widens with every strike, daylight spilling through in fractured beams.

“Back away!” Jaxon’s voice roars through the smoke.

I turn, shielding her, just as the pew smashes through—ripping the wall wide. Fresh air blasts in, feeding the fire, flames roaring higher, but the hole’s big enough.

I hunch low, shield her with my body, and force us through.

Lucian’s there, his hands gripping my arm, dragging us out. “We’re not dying today.” He says it like he can control it.

Jaxon grabs her legs, easing the weight from me. Damien doesn’t hesitate—he’s already heading for the stairs. “Here!” he shouts.

We run. I stumble, coughing blood, vision blurry, but I keep her in my arms, limp and too quiet. Lucian and Jaxon flank us, half carrying, half dragging me forward.

The stairwell’s a furnace, flames snapping at our backs. Damien carves the path ahead, driving us upward—step after step—until we’re out.

I collapse to my knees on the lawn, still clutching her. Smoke billows black into the sky, the church crumbling behind us, fire lighting the ruins in a hellish glow.

The helicopter’s already there, blades chopping the air, howling over the roar of the fire. It’s how they got to us so fast.

Jax and Lucian haul me to my feet, each gripping an arm. Lucian’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. “Just a little farther, buddy.”

Damien’s already climbing into the cockpit, flipping switches, hands sure and steady. The rotors scream louder, wind blasting the grass flat.

Jax moves in first, arms outstretched to take Seraphina from me. My body revolts. The second I let her go, I nearly break in two. She’s limp. Lifeless. Her eyes closed, skin ghost-pale beneath the soot and blood. My heart stops just looking at her like that.

I scramble in after them—faster than my battered body should allow—and take her back into my arms before I fall apart. I rock her against me, my lips against her hair, words spilling out in low, frantic tones.

“Stay with me, angel. Please, baby—please. I love you. You can’t leave me.” I stroke her matted hair and kiss her temple. “Please don’t leave, angel. I need you.”

“I need you.”

The helicopter lifts—engines screaming, blades hammering the sky as the ruined church burns below us.

And I hold her tighter, praying to gods I don’t believe in that she’s not dead.