Chapter 21 21

Chapter 21 21

Celine's POV

Safe house. Again.

The word was a sick joke. There was nothing about this place that felt safe. There was nothing safe about any of this.

Maddie was on her couch, a blanket draped over her despite the warmth of the room, shaking violently enough to chatter her teeth. I picked her up and clutched her, her tiny frame hugged tightly by my arms, while she sobbed into my shirt.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, the lie sticking like a bitter aftertaste. "You're safe now. It's over."

But we both knew it was not over.

Caelum's crew held each entrance and all the windows. Gun-toting, stoic professionals with guns out in the open, ready for any threats that may come at any time. The cabin that had felt nearly cozy with it being just Caelum and me was now a cage.

Or a target.

Wearing a path between the wall and window, Caelum's head was hunched over while speaking into his phone so rapidly in such low tones I could barely hear him but I could tell he was giving orders. He had his injured shoulder wrapped new, but I could see him protecting it, feel the pain he was camouflaging.

“I don’t give a shit how many guys there are. Find him. Learn where each of his properties are, every safe house, every door under which he may crawl. Burn them all."

He put down the receiver, and dialled again at once.

Maddie’s wails had faded into hiccups. She released me, and I saw that her eyes had turned red and swollen.

“Jesus, what the hell have you brought us into?” Her voice was raw, accusatory.

I had no answer. What could I say? That I was in love with a criminal? That I’d understood what was at stake and had still chosen him? That I was an idiot and a dick and now she'd nearly died because of me?

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Maddie, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" She laughed, but there was something brittle and wrong about it. "They tied me up, Cee. Hit me. Promised to kill me if you didn’t come. And you did show up; because you are an idiot in love with a literal monster.”

"I know."

"Do you? Do you even know what it is you've gotten me involved in? Dragged yourself into?"
She got up suddenly, and the blanket slid away. “This isn’t a romance novel where the bad boy gets good for love. This is real. People die in this world. And we almost joined them."

I got up too and tried to take her hand. “I know, and I’m going to fix it —”

"How? How are you going to repair this?” She pointed to the two thugs with guns, at Caelum on his phone planning to hurt someone. "By staying with him? By pretending that this can ever not be normal?”

I didn't have an answer.

Caelum hung up and realized for the first time that there was tenseness. He came over to us, wary expression in place.

“Miss Cooper, I understand you have trauma. My men will accompany you home when the coast is clear. Nikolai won’t lay a finger on you again, I promise.”

"Your word?" Maddie laughed once more, that same caricature of a sound. “Your word is of no use to me. You’re why I was taken in the first place.”

"Maddie—" I started.

"No, Cee. I love you, but no way. I will not see you killed by him.” She glared at the Caelum with open disdain. "Stay away from her. Stay away from both of us."

She stepped outside, a man of Caelum’s following to watch over her. The door shut and we were in oppressive silence.

I looked at the spot where she had stood, my chest constricted.

"She's scared," Caelum said quietly. "She'll calm down."

"Will she? Or is she right?" I turned to glare at him with a solid foundation of rage beneath the guilt. "This has to end, Caelum. Maddie could've died tonight. I could've died. How many more people get injured before you please stop this war?”

His jaw clenched. "I'm trying to protect you."

"By putting targets on the people I care about?" My voice rose. "By terrorizing me to no end? By making my best friend collateral damage?”

“I didn’t even want any of this!” He moved forward, his own anger beginning to catch me. I didn't tell Nikolai he could declare war. I asked him to spy on you. I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe!”

"Are you? Because frankly, from where I'm standing, it's the rest of us who are in danger because of you!”

"Then leave!" The words burst out of him, biting and caustic. “Just go home to your safe, dull existence. Back to your dorm and your classes and your ordinary friends. Forget you ever met me."

The implication was more painful than any physical slap. I went up to him and slapped him.

His head flopped to one side and a red mark on his cheek blossomed. He made no move or response other than turning his body to face me slowly.

“You don’t get to do that,” I said, my voice shaking with rage and pain. “You cannot just push me away when it gets tough. That's not how this works."

He seized my wrist: not so hard it hurt, but firmly. “I’m keeping you alive! Don't you understand? Everyone I love dies, Celine. Everyone. And I can’t, I won’t let that happen to you.”

“What if I just don’t want to be alive without you?” The words burst out raw and desperate. What if I want to die with you, instead of living without you in safety?

"Don't say that." His hold weakened; his thumb grazing my pulse point. "Don't ever say that."

Why? Because it's true? ‘That’s because you’re really feeling the same way why?

He looked at me, and I saw it all in his face. The fear, the love, their frenzied need to protect me even if it killed me.

"Yes," he whispered. "God help me, yes."

The anger melted into something else. Something desperate and hungry and needed.
I kissed him.

Not gentle. Not careful. Hard, and intense, letting all of my fear and anger and love flow through our connection. He answered my question in a second, wrapping his good arm around my waist and hugging me close to him.
We tumbled back into the wall. His mouth travelled from my lips to my jaw and then to my neck, teeth dragging across sensitive flesh. I inhaled sharply, and my hands clenched on his hair pulling hard enough to hurt.

“Celine,” he breathed against my neck. "We should—"

"Don't you dare stop." I drew his face to mine and kissed him with all I could give.

He raised me with his good arm, and my legs wound around him from impulse. Carried me to the kitchen counter and set me down with enough force to make the dishes rattle.

Provocation by Charlotte lexicalite His fingers caught the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. With trembling fingers, I worked at his buttons and managed to do so without hurting his bandaged shoulder. He’d hiss as I accidentally brushed against it.

"Sorry—"

"Don't care." And he covered my mouth with his, stifling any more apologies.

Clothes came off in a frenzy. His shirt. My jeans. His belt landing on the floor with a metallic clink. Each barrier between us shattered until nothing was left but skin and heat and aching need.

“This wasn't gentle or romantic. That was so raw and emotional and cathartic.” Two people holding on to each other because the world was trying to tear them apart.

He pulled me off the counter, and we somehow landed on the floor, bitter tile against my back. I didn't care. Cared about nothing except him, now, this proof that we were both alive.

“I love you,” he gasped into my neck. "God, I love you."

"Show me." I pulled him nearer, scraping my nails down his back. "Show me."
He did.

Then we lay on the ground in a heap panting and trembling, both of us—for once—shaking not from exertion.

He touched the bruises on my wrists, from when I was bound in the warehouse. His touch was soft, reverent even, entirely foreign to the violence he was capable of.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For all of it. For bringing you into this world. For every moment you’ve spent afraid of me.”

I held his hand, pressed them to my lips and kissed each knuckle scared by the chains. "I'm not. I'd choose you again. Every time."

"Even knowing how it ends?"

"It doesn't end. Not tonight. Not tomorrow." I held his face in my hands and compelled him to look me in the eye. "We survive this together. That is the only ending that I will accept.”

He kissed me once more, but it was light this time. A promise instead of desperation.

We lay on the floor for a long while, wrapped around one another, pretending the rest of the world was not there.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under. I passed out in his arms there, on the cold kitchen floor, yet felt safer than I had all week.

When I woke up, I was alone.

\---
Morning light filtered through the windows, too bright and perky for my mood. I slowly sat up, my body throbbing in places unrelated to violence.

The cabin was quiet. Too quiet.

"Caelum?" I called out.
No answer.

I rose to my feet, and saw that some of my clothes had been cast around the kitchen floor and I put them on with trembling fingers. Something felt wrong. The air felt wrong.
That's when I saw it.

A message on the counter, printed in his neat hand.
I reached for the phone, my fingers trembling as I pulled it off its hook.

"Ending this today. If I’m not back, live your life, Celine. Be happy. You deserved better than me. C"
Horror filled me cold and keen.

No. No, no, no.

I ran to the window. His car was gone. Kent’s and Ryker’s cars were missing. One guard was still standing outside, and he stood agape as I came bounding through the door.

"Where did they go?" I demanded. "Where's Caelum?"

"I dunno, miss. Boss went before sunrise. Didn't tell us where."

I knew. In the deepest part of my bones, I knew where exactly he’d gone.

He'd gone after Nikolai.

Alone.