Page 30 of The Heir
After Dante convinces me to get dressed, we sit at the table with the men. Roman sets his jaw and glares at everyone before clicking on his tablet.
"We have a rendezvous point. One of Ella's men is considering defecting, and we can feed her information on his whereabouts. Then, instead of meeting with him, we'll be there waiting for her. And you—" Roman points to me. "—can go fucking nuts."
"Good. Good." I lace my fingers together and stare at the screen. "How far away?"
"A few hours at most. That's enough time to get you kitted out, as you said." He points to a structure deep in some forest land. "That's the meetup point. Technically neutral ground—we don't own it and neither does she."
"Who does?" I ask and reach for the tablet. Roman hands it over with a huff.
"As best as I can tell, no one. It's abandoned. Maybe a bank, if we get technical with it." He reaches over and points to a cluster of trees. "This is the most obvious hiding spot for your backup. However, I think we need to be more strategic. Ella may think she's meeting with a possible defector, but as we all know, she's smarter than she looks."
"True," I mumble. "Will we beinsidethe building?"
"Most likely." Roman nods. "I'd much prefer if Dante were outside, but I can't imagine he'll let you go in there alone."
"Damn right," my husband grunts. "I'll be inside with you. Roman, too. Melnyk and the crew will be outside from higher vantage points with sniper rifles. Just in case."
"Are we anticipating a firefight?" I wonder.
"We're anticipating everything." Roman grabs the tablet back. "We don't know what the hell we're walking into, Melody. That's the fucking problem."
"Give me some fucking guns, and you'll have fewer problems, Ro." I scowl at him. "When are we going?"
"Shortly, love." Dante looks at me with those biggreen puppy dog eyes. "I want it to be known that I donotlike this one little bit. However, if it gives you some form of comfort? Anything. I will give you anything."
"Ugh," Roman scoffs under his breath. He isreallygetting on my nerves. If I were in a more forgiving mood, I'd chalk it up to the fact that we've been cloistered in this underground bunker for weeks.
But I am not in a forgiving mood, and I don't give a singular shit what he's got going on. I fix him with a glare. "So, what are we waiting on, then?"
"Not a damn thing," Roman says with an oddly cocky smirk. That was a quick turnaround, but I'll take it. "Let's get you suited up."
The men all stand with a clattering of chairs, and I follow along happily. Exhilaration buzzes through my veins as Melnyk straps gun holsters to every possible appendage. Dante dons a bulletproof vest and slides handguns into the holster around his waist and the one strapped across his chest.
Roman gives me another ghost of a smile as he hands me a massive rifle. helena's laughter echoes through my mind as I run my fingers along the barrel. Our time at the range together was short, but I'm about to put it to the test. A pang of guilt and sorrow stings in my chest. I miss her so much—her suggestions and commentary were always perfect. She didn't coddle me, but she wasn't an asshole about it, either. She taught me everything I know.
And I'm about to put that knowledge to the best use. I'm going to fucking kill Ella for her—and for my son.
Dante's piercing green eyes follow me under his furrowed brow as we silently load up in the black van. He slides into the back seat next to me and lays a possessive hand on my thigh. The heat from his touch calms my nerves—somewhat. My other leg still bounces a frantic rhythm as we rumble out of the hidden clearing, creeping past the towering old-growth trees.
I always thought that the forests of Appalachia would be serene. Calming. Silent and lush, a place for peaceful meditation. But all I can feel is a sense of foreboding. I expect the feeling to fade as we turn off the old dirt roads and onto the highway, but it doesn't. Anxious dread coils around my bones and settles into the back of my mind.
For as much time as I spent underground, I feel like I should be enjoying the last rays of sunlight as we race along the deserted highway. I should be soaking up the light, the warmth, the purity of a warm day—but I'm not. The only thoughts racing around my mind are decidedly brutal. I can practically taste the blood spilling from Ella. I can almost smell the coppery tang flooding the abandoned building. My hands twitch as I envision ripping into her.
Tearing.
Stabbing.
Destroying.
Just like she destroyed me. I have half a mind to ask Dante and Melnyk to help me bind and gag her, bring her back to the bunker, keep her locked away in a room without any light. Force her to experience what she put me through, but oh, so much worse. Yet, I know myself. I know that I don't have the self-control to keep her alive for very long. If I had the chance to keep her boundto a metal chair, so far away from her stupid Seraph network, I wouldn't be able to walk away.
Ineedto spill her entrails on the floor. I need her to see me take back my power.
I need her fucking dead.
Roman pulls the van from a poorly maintained country road to a gravel driveway. Unkempt grasses and weeds intermingle with the trees. Fireflies blink in the distance, and I hear a chorus of tree frogs singing into the muggy nighttime air. It's genuinely beautiful, and I feel a tiny touch of remorse for what's going to transpire here.
But not enough to turn back. Never enough to turn back.
