Page 93 of A Violet Obsession

33

FINN

I admit leaving Hera behind was harder than I expected. But every cell in my body was screaming to get Lily to safety. I’ve survived firefights, enhanced interrogations, and even a helicopter crash in Asia.

None of it compares to the fear that hit me when Lily stepped out from behind those trees.

I'd made my peace with the math when I sent Lily down the mountain. I only had so much ammunition, and I'd run the odds—accepted what was likely coming. What I hadn't accounted for was the disembodied head on a screen, strapped to one of the assholes like a prop from a bad sci-fi movie. I'd assumed the men were Voss's. Then I recognized Richard Tate, and something cold and furious cracked open in my chest. Tate, head of the peaceful crystal cult I'd assumed wasn’t as big a threat as Voss.

Now Lily would pay for my stupidity.

When the man said she’d gone over the ridge, the world went black. Like something had torn loose from my soul. This was bigger than fear. It was the bottom dropping out of everything, the certainty that the one thing I couldn't lose was already gone and I hadn't been there.

I couldn't breathe around it. Couldn't think past the single word screaming through me—Lily, Lily, Lily—like if I said her name enough times the universe would give her back.

Then her voice cut through the chaos.

And every instinct in me flipped straight back to violence.

Then, when Lily demands we go back for Hera, I don’t know whether I want to kiss her or wring her neck.

With my hands zip-tied, I do my best to stay between Lily and the guards. So far, they’ve treated her surprisingly well for men who’ve just been shooting at us. The only real tension comes when their leader insists Hera ride in a duffel bag.

Can’t say I blame him. She made three of them bleed.

Good girl.

By the time we step off the jet at a small private airfield in New Mexico, I’m pretty sure I have broken ribs, a mild concussion, and a fractured cheekbone. Lily threw a fit worthy of my sister when they refused to cut the zip ties off on the plane. Whatever orders Tate had given must have included keeping her happy. After one hard look from the guard, my hands were free.

We’re loaded into a waiting SUV without ceremony, and I make sure I climb in immediately after Lily, before any of these assholes can sit between us. Hera’s duffel goes between my boots, close enough that my knee can steady it when the vehicle pulls out.

After a few minutes, Lily shifts against my side, leaning into me. I want to tell her everything will be okay, but I keep my mouth shut. The less we say in front of these men, the better—until I can figure out the play.

The bag at my feet shifts. Hera’s agitated sounds growing louder. Gritting my teeth against the pain in my ribs, I bend down and lift the bag onto my lap, ignoring the eyes watching my every move. I rest my hand on it and run my thumb along the seam, feeling her back underneath—the same slow stroke I use when she sits on my lap while I work. To my surprise, it works. She settles.

Lily turns her face to the window.

My attention stays on the guard in the passenger seat, the side mirrors, and the steady count of fence posts blurring past, trying to calculate speed and distance. Escape won’t be easy on a straight desert road with no cover.

The man in the passenger seat lifts his phone. “We’re approaching.”

In the distance, buildings rise out of the land—low, soft-edged adobe walls the same color as the desert. A guardhouse stands next to the gate. Men with automatic rifles are posted on either side.

The massive gate swings inward.

I curl my hand around Lily’s wrist and squeeze as the SUV pulls through.

34

LILY

I’m seriously worried about Finn.

I’d asked if he was okay, through the plane’s bathroom door. When he came out there was less blood on his face, but he was looking increasingly terrible as the swelling set in.

He didn’t answer or even look at me, so I don’t ask again.

Now in the SUV, his cheek is purple, the skin split, and every few minutes, he blinks too slowly. Each time, it sends an icy shiver through me. I track it in the window’s reflection, because turning my head would make it obvious, and I have a feeling it would just make him angrier with me.