Page 116 of Devil's Iris
My heart gallops as my brain tries to supply for me just how badly this could go if I don’t play my cards right. My stomach churns violently and I clasp my hands together to hide the shaking.
Mikkel studies me for a long moment. “Fine. But no funny games. You won’t like what happens if you try to be clever.” He waits for me to nod, then turns to Ethan. “Go on, get out.”
My brother hesitates, and I direct my most commanding glare at him. “Get the fuck out of here, Ethan.Now.”
Finally, he gets to his feet, face deathly pale, blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. He looks shaken, because he knows as well as I do there’s no money hidden in this house. He stops at the front door to glance back at me one more time. “L–Leni?”
He looks so young in this moment, so vulnerable and scared, my heart squeezes painfully. I don’t know how I manage a smile for him through my own stormy emotions, but somehow, I do. “It’s alright, Ethan. I’ll be fine. I love you.”
His throat works as he swallows. “I love you too.” Then he opens the door and walks out.
Some of the tension in my shoulders releases.Okay. At least he’s safe.
When I turn back to face Mikkel, he’s closer than before, his lips a thin line.
“That was very touching.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his cheek. “Now get up and take me to my money.”
I swallow around the massive lump in my throat and force myself up on shaky legs.
I’m hyper-aware of the nozzle of Mikkel’s gun pressing against the back of my skull as I lead him to the next room where the stairs leading down to the basement are located. My arm throbs fiercely with each step, almost in a brutal reminder of the last time I was shot.
Sweat trickles down my spine, my blood rushing in my ears, coupled with the hard thump-thump of my heart, the only sounds I can hear as I start walking down the stairs.
Mikkel hesitates behind me. “A basement?”
“Mom sells anything she thinks has value to fund her addiction. You know this,” I say tonelessly. “So to keep my money safe, I hid it under a floorboard down here.”
“Smart,” he says mildly, then digs the gun harder into my skull. “But remember—no funny games once we’re down there.”
I nod and continue down the stairs until we’re in front of the thick wooden door that latches from the outside and can only be opened from out here. I swallow as I push it open, peering into the ominous pitch-black basement.
“I need to turn on the lights,” I say quietly.
Mikkel snorts. “You think I’m stupid? I’ll do it myself. Where’s the switch?”
I rub my sweaty palm down my pants. “Right there.” I gesture vaguely into the darkness ahead.
“Get out of the way,” he grumbles and grabs my arm—my injured arm—to pull me back.
Pain explodes through my shoulder, and I scream, instinctively jerking away and stumbling back up a few steps. He gives me an annoyed look like I’m being dramatic as he moves in front of me to find the light switch.
My heart leaps into my throat. This is my chance.
Using the moment from my retreat, I plant my feet andjump down, kicking his back with every ounce of strength and fury I possess.
And because he’s relaxed—no longer seeing me as a threat—the impact catches him completely off guard. His back arches under the force, and he goes stumbling into the dark basement with a furious shout.
Immediately, I slam the door shut and throw the latch home, my hands shaking so violently I can barely work the mechanism. His curses and death threats pound against the thick wood, but they sound beautifully muffled. Once I’m sure the door is locked, I spin around and sprint up the stairs, heart tripping over itself with how fast it’s racing.
I did it. Holy shit—I actually did it.
I stumble into the living room just as the front door bursts open and a wrathful Romero surrounded by more than a dozen men charges in, guns raised.
Without thinking, I keep running—running until I crash into his chest and his arms band around me, crushing tight enough to set my wound on fire. But I don’t care.
I’m alive. I’m whole. And exactly where I belong.
In Romero’s arms.Safe.
