The Cage (Book 2)

Never Turn Back

Never Turn Back

I watched him leave, my hand trembling over my thumping heart.
It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done—letting him go without me.

Promise me you'll come back.

I wanted to yell it at his retreating figure, but for some inexplicable reason, my tongue was tied.

So I just stood there, like a miserable fool with an aching heart, staring after him, praying to every god and deity I could name that he'd come back to me. Safe. Whole. Alive.

I'd already lost him once. Losing him again... I couldn't bear to imagine it.

The logical part of me understood why he was leaving me behind. It made sense that my presence would distract him from his mission. But the illogical, emotional part of me took it like a knife to the chest.

As if to mock me, my wound throbbed, sharp and insistent. Even after almost two years in prison, I was still a weakling. Still pathetic. Useless, useless, useless!

Not once did he turn back to look at me.

Schneider, Schneizel, Cade, and their team of grim-faced mercenaries climbed into the black G-Wagon and sped off, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. I kept staring long after the silhouette of the car had vanished over the horizon.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about it—couldn't stop obsessing over it:

Schneider hadn't turned back to look at me.

Why did he never turn back?

I felt a hand settle on my shoulder, firm and steady. Startled, I glanced over and found Aiden standing behind me.

The look on his face caught me off guard. It wasn't pity, or even worry—but something resolute, determined... and full of—dare I say—hope.

"Try not to worry too much," he said quietly. "I know it's hard. But..." His gaze followed the empty road where the G-Wagon had disappeared, and he gave the faintest of wry smiles. "The Cross brothers have a knack for surviving impossible situations."

For someone whose own lover had also marched off to war, he was taking it surprisingly well. Or maybe he was just better at pretending than I was.

That's when I finally noticed him—someone standing just behind Aiden.

He was one of the men Cade had brought, dressed all in black, with an earpiece tucked discreetly against his temple. His presence was quiet, but there was nothing casual about the way he stood, feet planted, eyes scanning the horizon like a hawk.

Noticing my questioning stare, Aiden followed my gaze and said simply, "He's here to protect us."

I was too tired to question the need for someone to protect us—when it was Schneider and the others who needed all the help they could get.

Without a word, I fell in step behind Aiden and followed him into the house. The door shut with a soft, final click, leaving our silent bodyguard stationed on the front porch, a dark silhouette against the moonlight.

****

Schneider's P.O.V

The cathedral sat hunched in the shadow of the cliffs, shrouded in fog and rot. Its stone walls were streaked with moss and graffiti, its bell tower long collapsed, half-buried in earth. Ivy swallowed the stained-glass windows, shattered long ago. The front steps were fractured, and black water lapped at the ruined threshold where the nave had once begun.

The flood had claimed half the sanctuary. Pews jutted out of the water like bones. A pulpit leaned sideways, and rusted metal scaffolding from an old restoration still clung to the ceiling beams.

Nathan had chosen this place well. It was remote, forgotten, but it certainly was not abandoned.

Schneizel pointed toward the collapsed alcove on the right. "Entry's through the service crypt. Underground staircase leads into the choir pit. If he's in the sanctuary, we'll have the high ground."

The men peeled off, circling wide to cover our flanks. Schneizel and I moved down through the flooded stairwell, boots slipping on moss-slick stone.

The air was cold and it stunk of old mold.

Schneizel crouched behind a cracked pillar, rifle angled across his chest. "Two men on the far end. Talking. Relaxed."

"And Nathan?" I growled, sensing my vengeance close at hand.

A moment passed.

Then: "Center altar. He's here."

Good.

My brother and I traded deadly looks. No doubt my brother's grim expression was mirrored by my own. It had been too long since we'd hunted together, but neither of us had forgotten how. How to stalk, to pounce, to strike for the jugular.

Without a word, we agreed to do our eldest brother a favor and put down the pathetic little menace nipping at his heels like a beaten dog who didn't know when he'd been bested.

I would have my revenge. He'd dared to keep me from my Julian for over a year—time I would never get back. So I'd take something he could never get back. The rest of his miserable life.

The radio crackled and Cade's voice flowed through the device. "On your mark."

I exhaled, readying myself for what was to come.

"Now!" 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Thanks for reading. 

Spare a prayer for my old cat. 

____

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