Page 115 of Golden Burn

The octopus tries to evade me, desperately searching for somewhere to hide, but the small blue rings guide me to its whereabouts. I feel it brush my fingers through the sheet, its tiny legs barely the size of a bobby pin. Holding my breath, I bring my palms together slowly and surround it. It moves like a spider trapped under water, but I hold steady, whispering my apologies. I hate that I’m doing this to an innocent creature. It feels sacrilegious and makes me want to cry.

“Hurry,” Martin urges.

Praying and praying that the sheet is enough to stop the venom from sinking into my skin, I pull it out, wrap it in the bottom of my shirt for added protection, and follow Martin up the stairs.

Martin stays in front of me as we ascend. My breath is sawing through my lungs, my injury a tormenting ache. The octopus remains hidden in my hands, its three hearts pumping in time with my own.

When we reach the main deck, all thoughts disappear.

I gasp audibly, my legs wobbling.

Martin keeps me behind him, his gun trained on the situation in front of him. There are dead men all around us, littered like broken dolls.

Odin is on his knees, his mouth bleeding, his eyepatch missing. Ford is right beside him, panting, bloodied, and rightfully pissed.

Above them stand Cerbera and one of his men.

“Odin,” I breathe, my insides twisting into a knot so tight I want to be sick.

He looks up, finds my worried gaze. His expression is twisted, his body tight with concern. “It’s going to be alright. I won’t let him hurt you,” he says, his teeth wet with his own blood.

“Put the gun down,” Martin demands, his voice a boom of thunder.

Cerbera laughs. The sound is a razor blade against my skin. “What does it feel like to finally show your true colors?”

“Fucking good,” Martin replies, rolling his shoulders.

“It’s over,” Odin says, his eye laser focused on me. “Do whatever you want to me, but let my wife go.” His expression is full of anguish and regret. I can’t breathe when he looks at me like that. Like it might be the last time.

“How about I do whatever I want to you, and your wife can watch?”

Martin steps forward. “This is over, Cerbera. Let them go and you can live.”

“You should know by now that I don’t like being told what to do,” he says, and shoots Odin in the back of the leg. Odin hisses, his body jolting from the shock.

“Don’t touch him!” I cry out and race forward. Martin yanks me by the back of my dress, holding me at bay.

“Don’t!” Odin grunts and coughs. “Keep her away,” he orders Martin. “Get her the fuck out of here! Go!” The agent’s arms around me tighten.

“You’re a fucking dead man,” I seethe at Cerbera.

Cerbera raises his brows and shoots Odin in the other leg. I roar, a deep, anguished sound. Tears start spilling down my face, hot and salty. Odin’s breaths are fast and shallow, his face dotted with sweat. Yet, when he looks at me, I swear his iris churns with a sense of peace. With love.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this,” he murmurs. “It’s my fault.”

Cerbera kicks him in the back, forcing him down. Odin braces his hands under his chest, his nose almost squashed into the bloodied carpet. “Lesson one,” Cerbera mocks and presses his boot to my husband’s spine. “The men who run this world aren’t of sound mind, so expect to lose when you try to steal their crown.”

“Fuck you,” Odin spits.

Cerbera presses the end of his gun to Odin’s skull. “Tell me, is this how you killed my father?”

A blur of movement to my right tears my horrified gaze away from Odin.

Ford moves so fast I almost miss it. One second he’s kneeling, the next he’s turned, swiping his leg out to knock over Cerbera’s man. He swipes the pocketknife he always carries across the man’s throat so efficiently, he’s almost dead before he hits the ground. Ford stands and spins. He throws his knife across the distance. It flips end over end, its trajectory aimed straight for Cerbera’s chest.

A gunshot goes off.

Ford recoils. Cerbera grunts as the knife hits his shoulder.

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