“You still out there?” yells the voice. “Or did you two decide it’s better to go home after all? Wouldn’t blame you.”
“Still here,” Aiden says back as I start to creep around the side of the building, grabbing a large rock along my way. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“How sweet,” the voice croons. “I’m sure he would have appreciated that.”
He’s not gone,I keep telling myself as I move.He’s not gone. I would know.If either of them were truly gone, I would feel it.
They keep talking, exchanging spars that are meant to push Aiden into a rash act, and by the time I finally reach the other side, I wonder how close it is to working. And that’s even before I see him.
Though too high for a clean shot just as Aiden said, the window is still low enough for me to see inside the small hazy room. The stove now extinguished in the corner while one man hovers near the door and the other…
Cypress is sitting on the floor against the wall, hands and feet tied, head lolling back, and even wearing Aiden’s burgundy clothes, I can still see the spots on his clothing where the red is too dark. He’s so still. So quiet. And even though I still believe, even though I know I would feel it—
The figure near the door pivots as he seems to feel me, too, and right before he aims his gun, I see his face, the spark of recognition lighting faster than the spark of his pistol.
I drop to the ground, broken glass and shards of wood raining down over me as he shoots once. Then twice. Only the second time, there’s no explosion. No connection. At least not one by me.
“Cora,” Aiden shouts. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I yell back. “Are you?”
“No,” he says. “I got him. He’s down.”
I scramble to my feet, running for the door, and as soon as I enter the room, I know I hadn’t imagined it.
My father’s killer is there in the lingering fog of smoke. Tan hair. Short beard. Light eyes. A powder burn on his left arm. Lying on the ground with a shot to his chest. Blood pooling beneath him, reminding me so much of the way I’d found my father that day in the street. The day my whole world had stopped.
But I don’t even pause now.
“Is he—” I sprint across the room to Cypress, dropping to my knees beside Aiden who’s already there. “Please tell me he’s—”
“He’s alive,” Aiden says, his head down as he keeps his fingers on Cypress’s pulse. “He’s alive.” Aiden’s breathing is shaky, the emotion obvious in his voice as he mutters, “It’s faint, but… Cy, please don’t do this to me. Please, baby, don’t… I swear to God, if you die on us, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”
There’s a long silence, but then finally there’s also a low chuckle that’s taken over by a cough. “Seems…seems a shame to…to pay the ferryman twice.”
“Thank God,” Aiden says, leaning forward to press his forehead against Cypress’s. “Fuck, thank fuckin’ God you really do have nine lives.”
I laugh, smiling as I cup Cypress’s face in my hands after Aiden pulls away, brushing my thumbs gently over the bruises and the scratches that fade away as soon as he opens his eyes. “You’re okay,” I tell him. “It’s okay now. We’re here.”
“Always were,” he murmurs, smiling even as he takes in an uneven breath. “Thank you for the rescue, little bird.” His gaze shifts to Aiden. “And you, wolf. Told him you’d come.”
“Was never a question,” Aiden agrees, holding his gaze as Cypress continues.
“You know...you really do look very handsome when you’re being heroic.”
Aiden shakes his head but grins all the same. “Thought you might have missed it.”
“I got the gist,” Cypress mutters back, wincing slightly in pain as my hands move from his face to his neck to his chest, unable to stop checking him over. “But perhaps we could reenact it later?”
“Later,” Aiden agrees, and I know his eyes are watering from more than the lingering smoke as he sees the same wounds I do.“For now, let’s just get you out of here.”
He ducks his head, pulling the same knife from his boot that they’d used to hold the ransom note and cutting through the bindings at Cypress’s wrists as I reach for my own knife to do the same at his feet. Anger rises in my chest when I see how tight they’d made them, and I take painstaking care not to inflict further damage.
“His technique could have used improvement,” Cypress mutters, seeing me struggle with the knot. “I did offer him a few pointers.”
Aiden snorts, and I can’t help but laugh again, too, as he remarks, “Only you, Cypress. Only you would tell your captor that he wasn’t tying your restraints correctly. I’m sure he really appreciated—”
Cypress’s hands come free just in time for him to reach for Aiden’s gun, pulling it from the holster with lightning speed and aiming toward the open door when we all hear a noise from outside. However, he drops it again just as quickly, the effort too much when it’s clear even from here that the source poses no threat. That he can’t even reach his own gun.