Page 102 of Deadfall

That was the only thought I could formulate as the world self-destructed. I was thrown forward into Griffin and together we crashed into the dirt. First, I felt him underneath me, but then he rolled us and shielded me from the debris that rained down. All I smelled was sulfur and acrid smoke. My ears rang. Griffin picked his head up, and our eyes immediately clashed. Our bodies were completely flush against each other and I could feel his heart as it pounded in his chest, but his hand was steady when he put it against my cheek and mouthed something.

“Are you okay?” I could faintly hear him as the world rushed back.

I nodded and went to shove him off, but movement caught both our attention.

Seven and Marcello lunged for the same gun. The sounds of their scuffle were muted in my ears. Marcello reached the firearm first. He rolled to his back and pointed it at Seven at the exact same time Griffin pressed the barrel of his own gun against Marcello’s temple. Seven was crouched on one knee, mid-scramble. I couldn’t see his face, but his back was a mass of lacerations from where he’d been thrown into the hedge with the explosion.

Griffin was speaking, but I couldn’t hear what he said to Marcello over the ringing in my ears. It didn’t matter. I watched Marcello’s finger twitch on the trigger and my stomach lurched. I jerked forward automatically—even though I knew I wouldn’t reach them in time—

Marcello fell dead between the two men.

I sagged back in relief that caught me off guard. Since when did I not want Seven or Griffin to get hurt? Was it when I didn’t shoot Griffin in the Hole. Or, maybe when I diverted from stabbing him in the throat earlier. I didn’t fucking know—all I knew was hurting them felt…wrong. Mostly because they hadn’t done any harm to me—only helped, and I was still trying to figure out what that meant.

“Angel.” My hearing was like the volume being turned up. “Angel—hey, easy—”

Seven supported Angel into a seated position. He groaned and held his head before he squinted around at the carnage. His eyes lingered on Marcello and he grimaced—whether it was from his head wound or the fact his buddy was dead, I couldn’t tell. Griffin appeared and held out a hand to help me to my feet.

“You’re bleeding,” I said stupidly.

“What?”

I pointed to his shoulder. A piece of metal, about the size of a playing card was stuck deep into his shoulder. He waved away my comment and turned to Seven.

“You good?”

Seven gave him a thumbs up. Angel struggled to his feet. We were all covered in mud and foliage with various wounds that bled freely, but none of us had time to dwell on our aches and pains.

Griffin leveled his gun at Angel, and we all went still. “Looks like your friend is dead.”

“Oh, he wasn’t my friend.” Angel shook his head, then regretted the action immediately as he grimaced in pain. He touched his forehead gingerly and looked at his fingers coated in blood.

“Could have fooled me,” Seven said.

“I could see how I’d give off that impression. And, not that I don’t want to stand here and debate the finer points of keeping your enemies close, but we should probably move. This will attract the others.”

When Griffin and Seven didn’t move, Angel sighed. “Look, Marcello was one of Brooks’ closest confidants—his spy among the guards basically—” Angel explained. “I also knew he was going to cause the most trouble for our girl here—”

“She’s not your girl,” Griffin growled.

“I’m trying to tell you we’re on the same side,” Angel said. “Being close to Marcello meant I could keep tabs on him.”

“To what end?” Seven asked.

“That is not a question I can answer right now,” Angel’s grin was thin. “But, if you put a little trust in me, all will be answered in good time, my friend.”

Griffin jerked his head at Seven who picked up Angel’s gun and shoved it in his belt.

“No weapons.”

Angel held up his hands before he casually pulled his knife from his belt and tossed it at Griffin’s feet. “Yes, yes, fine.”

Griffin stashed it in his belt. “Let’s go.”

The mine had blown up a massive section of the maze. It leveled two pathways and toppled the hedges, so we had to find a way around the mess by back tracking. We’d already made several turns when I had the thought—what the fuck was I doing? Why didn’t I use the explosion as an excuse to run?

Griffin had his gun leveled at Angel’s back in front of me, and I used this time to study him. He was so protective, yet, he hadn’t made any move to assault me or even look at me funny except to check to see if I was okay. He’d had every opportunity to rape me back at the dead end, and of course every time before. But he didn’t. I’d never even seen him with that look of hunger most guards had.

Did I stay because I felt protected?