The night was darker than ever before. Out in the garden, the storm raged drunk and in frenzied abandon—a noisy symphony of thunder and rain and wraith-like moaning of the wind. Inside the villa, there brewed a storm. We had barely begun to work mending cracks in our lives when fate chose to break us to splinters with a fatal blow.
I was dreaming and awake when, out of the blue, there was crunching shattered glass and I was woken. Thudding in my throat, thudding in my chest, I came up bewildered, in the darkness of our bedroom. The soft hum of our home alarm system sliced through into warning—a scream of metal, a slashing, screaming whine that sliced darkness like a knife.
I leaped up out of bed, my heart pounding. I was halfway across the room and halfway out of it before I stopped and backed up, to find that Caspian was already halfway in the doorway, his broad frame in the way: he towered over my shoulder looking out of the sliding glass patio doors, which were streaked with frantic scribbles in what looked like blood: COME FIND ME, CASS.
I couldn't breathe. The words seared themselves into my mind, the danger so close that they slammed me to the ground. Caspian's face contorted into an anger so primal, so vile that his eyes, those black terrifying eyes, flared and blazed wildly out of his head. I saw his jaw harden, his fists clench as if he would tear the world apart.
"He wants me to come to him," Caspian growled, venomously in his voice. His voice was low and deadly, every syllable threatening vengeance.
My head was ringing as I said to him. "It's a trap," I whispered , fear and doubt struggling within me.
But he refused to listen. "I don't care," he growled, his voice low, rumbling growl that sent shivers down my spine.
And then, with howling wind screaming around the villa, and with the bloodstained note billowing over the emptiness, I realized that the storm was not coming—it had come.
Caspian moved angrily into the house, running down the marble corridors in giant strides. I followed behind in stunned horror, every sense reeling with fear and clutching need to keep him close. All our earlier moments of trying making up, our slow tentative promises to begin again with him, were desecrated in the wakeful tempest in and out of him.
I caught sight of him in the main hall, patio glass doors open wide, specked with rain and shards of the shattered red message. Caspian leading the way pushing through the doors, raging eyes fixed on them as if commanding the danger to depart. Storm cataract light stuck on his face to relief—oiled locks plastered on his forehead, eyes blazing with fury and devastation.
I went cautiously,each step calculated, fearing that his fury would be the tight high wire you had to cross on tiptoe lest you break it with your feet. "Caspian, for God's sake," I urged, shaking, "we have to talk."
He stopped stiffly, his back still turned to me, and for that one or two moments I thought he was not going to turn around . And then he turned. His so cautiously protected eyes flared with untrammeled feeling as they met mine. There, I read all—the ache of his past, the burden of his guilt, and the madness of his need to protect me which now weighed in the balance.
"His message…," he began, his voice trembling, "it's not a threat. It's a challenge. A dare." His lips twisted into a cold smile. "He wants me to come to him."
I moved a step closer to him, as if inviting him into the heat of my body. "Caspian, please, just look at me," I whispered, regarding him. "We're not going to let him win. I'm so scared—truly, really, really scared—that he's here, that we're targets for him—but I want you to know that I'm here with you, no matter what."
His face untangled for an instant, and the tempest in his eyes flared. I saw a glimpse of the vulnerable tenderness beneath the tough exterior. Then his eyes fogged over again. "Lily, when I close my eyes I see you alone, vulnerable—" he swallowed, his voice trembling on the brink of shattering as he clenched his fists into his palms. "I won't let that happen. I won't—" He drew out, gasped a raw breath as though calling upon what little life was left to him.
I raised my hand and ran my fingers over the contours of his cheek, my palm wiping over the dampness and coolness of the skin that rested there.
"I'm not going anywhere, Caspian. I'm not going to let the storm chase me out. I want you. I always have."
His gaze seared mine with a ferocity that hammered my heart more brutally—a half-tender gaze, half-threat of revenge. "Then we settle this together," he growled. "We face this threat, every single one them, so long as we're together. I'll bring him down, Lily—if it means going the whole way down into this darkness, I will.".
I nodded, my eyes pricking with tears, and took his hand. "I'm with you," I whispered. "Whatever happens."
The room seemed to be blurred away outside our bubble, and we were two people trying to make sense of everything. Outside, the storm continued, wind howling and rain pounding the walls, but inside here, our love filled everything.
Caspian's gaze met mine, his own colliding with mine for an instant as if daring me to be braver. His were divided between flat-out fear and feral purpose—the surprise of an never-quiet past, of a future as unshackled as the one seething outside the world. I saw his mouth twisted into a tight line before he yanked on my hand and pulled me into the living room.
Every move I made was greeted with soundless oaths and raised brows. The red warning color crept along the glass patio doors into the living room, scrawled on the rain-streaked glass in heavy block letters written words. Caspian's teeth were locked in adamant hardness and tension rigidity could be felt along the muscular shoulders as he stood up and reread the note, his eyes darkened with determination.