It took Juliette a moment to change gears on the conversation.

“What?”

Vi moved quickly to the window across the room and tugged on the lever. The window swung inward soundlessly. Someone—possibly Vi—had sprayed the hinges with WD-40, because everything else in the house squeaked like spirits being tortured. Reaching in, she grabbed the window and tugged. The latches gave seamlessly and the window popped out of the frame, leaving a neat, square hole in the wall. Vi set the window down and turned to Juliette.

“There is a ledge right on the other side,” she said in a quick, hushed voice. “Brace your weight there and turn your waist just enough to grab the tree branch. From there, you have to creep across and down, but watch the bottom, there’s a root that rises from the ground and my foot gets caught almost all the time. But once you’re on the ground, turn left and go into the Ricor’s backyard. Their back light doesn’t work.”

Juliette honestly had no idea what to say or how to react. A part of her was horrified that her sister was so apt at escaping her bedroom. Another part was impressed by the ingenuity and cleverness behind it. But a much larger part was thrilled.

“How long have you—?”

“Since like the fifth grade.” Vi smirked. “You didn’t honestly think I was up here doing homework, did you?”

Yeah, she kind of had. Now she just felt really stupid.

“I can’t believe—”

“Are you going to go or what? They’re going to come in here and check soon and you’ll miss your chance.”

Thinking fast, Juliette hurried to the window. She braced her hands on the ledge and peered over into the darkness below. The ground had become one giant black void that threatened to suck her in. But she didn’t think about it. She threw one leg over and then the other and searched for the ledge Vi had mentioned. There was nothing but air for several seconds and then her heel caught it. She twisted her body, hands on the windowsill, and tucked her toes on the lip.

“You’re doing great!” Vi encouraged in a low hiss.

Heart palpitating, hands slick with sweat, Juliette stretched her body just enough to turn and grab the thick branch resting on the roof. She wondered if that was something nature had done, or something Vi had done. She decided that now wasn’t the time to think about that.

Gingerly, she lifted one foot and stretched it to the thick branch a full two feet away. Her stomach somersaulted and she wondered how the hell Vi did this every night in heels. Breath held, she gave one good shove and propelled herself onto the branch. The thing creaked and wobbled under her weight and it took all her willpower not to squeak.

Vi stuck her head out of the opening in the wall. “Watch for the root!” she reminded her.

Juliette braved a quick nod and started her slow climb downward. She didn’t actually let out her breath until her foot hit bottom. Only then did she double over and wheeze. The cool night air swept around her, tearing at her clothes and licking at the sweat soaking her skin. She tried not to pay attention to it as she sprinted across the yard to the low, wooden fence the Ricor’s had put up a few years back when they’d gotten their Pomeranian Muffy. She climbed over quickly and made her way up the side of the house to the driveway.

From there, she just ran.

Chapter 15

Getting shot had a unique sort of pain that most other injuries didn’t. There was the initial burn as hot metal pierced through flesh. Then the temporary numbness where the brain hasn’t fully caught up to what happened. Finally, there was the crippling sting of a fresh burn and the raging throb of being stabbed. It was probably why most criminals preferred guns to knives.

Killian had been shot before so the sensation was a familiar one, yet it never felt better. It still hurt like a mother. But at least the bullet had gone straight through. Digging fragments out was a whole other process he did not want to think about.

“Sir?” Frank entered Killian’s bedroom, a phone in one hand and a blood soaked towel in the other, pressed down on the knife wound on his shoulder. “The cleanup crew will be here in an hour for the bodies.”

Killian nodded. He heaved one leg down off the bed. Then the other. His body screamed in protest. His skin seemed to be on fire around the hole Frank had stitched up, which seemed to have pissed off the injury. It thrummed with a sort of malicious glee that crawled up the rest of him to antagonize the colorful rainbow splattered across his torso.

Christ, he wanted to throw up.

“Sir, maybe you should stay in bed,” Frank advised.

Killian shook his head. “Need to check on the men.” He shoved unsteadily to his feet and felt the room tilt. He squeezed his eyes shut as his bearings settled. “How many did we lose?”

He heard Frank exhale heavily. “Five.”

Killian opened his eyes, his anger boiling to the very cusp of his control. “Smith?”

“Dead, sir. As are his men. Sir, perhaps you should stay—”

“I’m fine!”

His snarl was like a punch in the gut. It tugged at the stitches beneath the simple slap on bandage and Killian doubled over. Frank’s meaty hands were there, grabbing him and hauling him back into bed.

“You are not well enough to go anywhere,” Frank stated flatly. “I will see to the men—”

“No, they are my men.” But he didn’t try getting up again, all his energy having been vaporized. “I will see to them myself.”

“Perhaps in the morning then,” Frank suggested.

Killian started to shake his head. “No, I need to do it now—”

Frank stiffened. He jerked back with one hand going to the plastic bit in his ear. He said nothing as he listened.

“What?” Killian struggled to get up, but Frank held him down. “Frank!”

Frank lowered the hand. His dark eyes met Killian’s.

“It’s Miss Romero, sir.”

Killian’s entire world tilted this time. He felt the very air flicker between black and red. Blood roared Hot between his ears, deafening him to everything but the madness he could feel clawing through him.

“No…” He shoved the other man back with strengths he shouldn’t possibly possess considering he could barely keep his eyes open. “Where is she? Where’s Juliette?”

“Sir!”

But Killian was already on his feet, his pain numb in the blinding terror pounding through him as he staggered to the door.

Please, God, please don’t let her be dead, he prayed over and over again through the thick haze clouding his thoughts. The corridor he’d walked a million times bobbed and swayed in a sick sort of game that twisted his insides. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut and will everything right, but that only amplified the splotches of gray weaving around the corners of his vision. His heart pounded in a wild and frantic tempo of war drums. Each beat resounded through his very bones. But it didn’t matter. Not the pain. Not the hot waves crawling up his skin. Not the possibility of tearing his stitches. None of it, except finding Juliette. He needed to find her. He needed to make sure she was all right. The rest wasn’t important if he’d lost her.

“Killian!”

Her voice echoed through the hollows of his subconscious, sounding small and far away. He tried to blink, but that only made everything blurrier.

“Juliette…”

Something gave. Maybe it was his legs or his whole body, but everything spun in a cartwheel then the ground vanished from beneath him. There was nothing but a strange floating sensation for several seconds or minutes or hours before he hit the ground with a muffled thud.

“Killian!”

A shadow leapt into the path of the ceiling lights, shielding him from their sharpness. Soft, cold hands cradled his hot cheeks, swept back his damp hair while a broken voice called his name over and over again. Raindrops hit his skin, each one stinging like acid upon contact. He tried to raise a hand or speak, but it hurt to even breathe. Instead, all he could do was close his eyes and give himself over to the numb nothingness on the other side. Eyes the sweet color of caramel were the last things he saw before everything faded to black.