Page 139 of Savage Roses
I freeze, locked under his taunting spell. He’s escaped retribution many times, including the night we attended the Neptune party. Salvatore pulled me away before I could act.
But Cesar’s here now. I’m here now. I’marmed.
Two bullets remain in the chamber.
“Delphine, what are you—”
I’m sprinting off in his direction, a vengeful dose of adrenaline kicking in, and fueling my every determined step. It rises to the same level of hatred Salvatore harbors for Lucius, the kind of deep loathing where you’ll gladly sacrifice yourself if it means exacting the revenge you’re seeking.
Brenda’s feet pound behind me and she calls my name in her attempt to keep up.
I burst into the room Cesar escaped into. My eyes wildly scan the room, shifting from wall to wall, combing over every crevice in search of him.
He’s gone.
Nowhere to be found. The only evidence which exists of his presence is in the bookcase that’s been shoved aside. It leads to some sort of secret entrance…
I move to follow, but Brenda grabs my arm.
“No!” she snaps. “No more detours! We have to go.Right now.”
In the distant, logical recesses of my mind, I recognize that she’s right. As thirsty and desperate as I am for revenge, escape is more important in the moment.
Suddenly, Brenda takes charge. We’ve reversed course back the path we’ve come, returning to the stairwell for the last few flights of stairs.
On the ground floor, we encounter a dizzying stampede of Neptune Society members running for their lives and the people held captive by their organization running for freedom. Sprinkled throughout are a mix of security guards attempting to establish authority and a handful of Salvatore’s last remaining men.
“Stitches!” I gasp. “How are you possibly alive?”
“Escaped that shootout by the skin of my teeth. You were already gone. I’d hoped you’d gotten out of the country, but when we tracked your steps, we found your father’s shot-up car at the airport and the escape bag we gave you.”
Stitches leads the charge the rest of the way out of the Mill. Brenda and I, along with the other men in the group, pile into a large truck, and we’re off. I twist my body to peer out the back window.
The enormous structure known as the Mill resembles a factory from the outside. Shrouded by artificially planted trees and down a road without much traffic, it’s no wonder they chose a location embedded in the city that still offers enough discretion.
As we drive in one direction, a barrage of unmarked white cars zoom past us going the opposite way, likely the reinforcements Stitches anticipated. They’re clueless to the fact that the people in the truck they just drove by were the very same they’ve been sent to confront.
The Mill sinks out of view and I twist back around in my seat.
Relief crashes over me like a powerful wave and renders me lightheaded.
I’m free.
* * *
Stitches and the others bring me to a location I’ve never been. I’m told it’s a backup property Salvatore owns in case of a rainy day, much like our current scenario. Since his captivity, Lucius has seized ownership of his other properties—the compound with the loft and Club Nirvana have become part of his monopoly.
This backup piece of land, a significantly smaller property near the wharf district, isn’t nearly as equip as his main compound, but it does the trick for the few of us that have survived.
I demand answers. I want to know everything.
That evening, I’m sat down, and briefed on what I’ve missed. Stitches and Lev survived the shootout. Fabio and Oscar were the only two remaining men from the attack on the villa; they’ve managed to keep Salt and Pepa with them. The cats meow their hello the moment they spot me in the compound, trotting over to check it’s really me.
Brenda I’m told joined the effort by chance. Apparently, she never left Northam, and has spent the last few months quietly plotting how else she could get revenge. She approached Stitches when she caught wind of rumors I was in the Northam Society’s clutches.
Stitches checks me out to ensure I haven’t sustained any serious injuries. Wanting no trace of my time at the Mill remaining, I request he removes the implant inserted into my arm. I show him the branding mark on the back of my shoulder in hopes he’ll be able to do something about it.
His mouth dips in a sad bend. “Geez, Miss ADA. They… theybrandedyou.”