Page 101

99

Ronan’s body spasms, an erratic flailing of limbs. Horrified, Elin forces herself to look, expecting Caleb to have aimed for his head or chest, but instead sees blood gushing from a wound in his thigh.

As Caleb steps toward her, she realizes why: he has unfinished business with Ronan. The shot wasn’t fired to kill him, but to immobilize him, so Caleb can come for her.

Panicked, she thinks: Engage him. Make him see you as a person. Not a threat.

But as she opens her mouth to speak, Caleb’s already talking. “I didn’t want to do this.” He swings the gun around to point it at her. “I meant what I said before. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. This was supposed to be all about Ronan and Seth, but, you know, I haven’t quite finished explaining exactly what he did to my family, and while you’re here, I’m not going to be able to get my words out properly.” He sounds almost apologetic, rueful. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

His finger twitches around the trigger. Another loud bang.

Elin lurches sideways. She doesn’t know where the speed comes from, the strength to move, but it’s not enough.

There’s an almost instantaneous pressure followed by a hot, searing pain, unlike anything she’s ever felt before. A sudden and strange heat overwhelms the left side of her body, as if something fiery is inside her, trying to burn its way through from the inside out.

She glances down at herself, startles. Blood. So much blood.

Gasping, she stumbles backward. All at once, her legs give out from under her and she crumples to the stone. Head spinning, she clutches at her side, reeling as her fingers come away red.

Caleb steps toward her. He’s frowning, head tipped to one side, examining, a world-weary expression on his face. Elin realizes that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t want to do this, but it’s become necessary. A job to be done.

He raises the gun again.

Elin’s throat slackens in resignation. For the first time, she isn’t scared. She’s too tired to be scared. All she feels is a weird kind of longing. For quiet. Peace.

Caleb takes another step closer, arm outstretched.

But just as she braces herself, his arm drops a notch. She watches as he slips, almost in slow motion, his foot, perhaps slick with blood and rainwater, going out from underneath him.

There’s a loud cry of exclamation as he falls heavily onto the stone.

He seems unable to move at first and Elin watches him, confused. His shoulders are heaving. He’s crying , she realizes. As he glances up, tears are streaming down his cheeks.

A glimmer of hope: she has a brief window of time in which to do something.

Elin tries to focus. While the pain is excruciating, it has a clarity about it now; no longer everywhere but tunneling into an urgent throbbing, not in her torso as she’d thought, but her arm.

The knowledge galvanizes her: it might not be as bad as she believed.

A sudden head rush as she gets to her feet; every part of her is pulling together into this one moment. Every last bit she has. Strength. Willpower. Fear. It’s all the momentum she’ll ever have.

The voice in her head calling her a coward is there again, but Elin pushes it away. It doesn’t scare her, nor does it motivate her. She doesn’t need to prove herself. She’s done that already, time and time again.

Lurching forward, she knows that what she’s about to do is her decision, no one else’s. The right decision in the circumstances.

Elin staggers, hearing her own ragged breath in her ears. Caleb’s head snaps back to look at her, he starts to speak, but his words lift up into the wind, quickly fading away.

Caleb tries to scramble to his feet, but he can’t get purchase.

Elin’s already there; she rams her body against him, against the pain, against every doubt she’s had, the speed of the move taking even her by surprise. The jolt as she hits him pushes the breath from her lungs, sending an agonizing jab of pain through her ribs.

Caleb’s gun skitters out of his grasp, coming to rest on the stone a few feet away. He lunges toward it and tries to grab it, but she slams herself on top of him again, the full weight of her body on his, grinding his torso into the stone.

He squirms beneath her, but Elin holds fast, using all her strength to haul his arms behind his back, forcing herself to ignore the pain screaming from her wound.

As she pins him down, everything is muted. She can barely hear the wind and the rain, even her own heaving breath.

It’s just the two of them. Him versus her.

Caleb’s twisting beneath her, trying to move, but Elin pushes down harder, so hard she can feel the muscles in her arms pulsing with the effort.

She knows she has no choice but to keep hold of him. Her strength is all she has—if she makes a move for her handcuffs, he’ll try to use the opportunity to get the better of her.

“He was my father,” Caleb says between sobs. “The only family I ever had. Without family, you’ve got nothing, have you? Nothing.”

Elin’s gaze seesaws between him and Ronan. Ronan’s eyes are still closed. He’s making a high-pitched keening sound. It’s clear that he’s cut himself off, closed his eyes and mind to what’s happening around him.

Caleb moves again, trying to dislodge her. Elin starts to panic, unsure how much longer she can hold him. Her hands are slippery with sweat and blood, the pain in her arm excruciating.

She pulls in a deep breath, trying to summon up the last of her strength, when she registers another hand, in front of hers.

“It’s okay, Elin, I’ve got him.”

Steed’s voice. For a moment she thinks she’s imagining it, until she tips up her head and sees Steed there, kneeling beside her. “Elin, I’ve got ahold of him. You can let go now.”

Blinking, Elin meets Steed’s gaze, nods. She can’t quite read his expression, but there’s something in his eyes that she understands on a level that defies words.

Slowly, carefully, she shifts out of Steed’s way.

Relief washes over her. He’s right: she can let go now.

Watching Steed restrain him, she realizes that what Caleb said was true. Family is all you have, but it isn’t found only in a blood connection. Family shows itself in the unlikeliest of moments: the split-second glances, a gesture, the hand next to yours when you need it the most.