Stephanie’s POV
Jake and John exchanged a look before turning to me.
“Don’t worry,” Jake said. “We’ll go outside and see what Marcus wants.”
John nodded in agreement. “You and Sarah get Reyna out of here. We’ll handle things.”
Sarah scoffed. “We already know what he wants me.” Her voice was steady, but I could hear the edge of fear beneath it. She lifted her chin defiantly. “But he’s never getting me back. I left his hold, and I’m never going back.”
Her determination made me proud, but we didn’t have time to argue about it. We had to move.
Without wasting another second, we slipped through the back gate, where a black car was already waiting for us.
“Get in,” the driver said in a low voice, his eyes darting toward the front of the building.
Sarah climbed in first, pulling me along with her. As soon as the door shut behind us, the car sped off, leaving Jake and John behind to deal with Marcus.
The tension in the car was thick. Sarah sat stiffly beside me, her fingers clenched into fists on her lap. I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.
“He’s not getting to you,” I assured her.
She exhaled sharply, but nodded. “I know.”
Reyna shifted beside me, her voice groggy but curious. “How did you deal with Damon?”
Sarah turned to her. “He’s on the run.”
Reyna’s eyes darkened. “So he’s still out there?”
“For now,” I said. “But you don’t have to worry. He’s lost everything. He’s desperate, but he’s also weak.”
Reyna didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
I didn’t blame her for doubting it. Damon was like a disease one that never really went away. But I refused to let fear control us.
The car sped through the streets, taking turns so sharp I had to brace myself against the door.
Sarah glanced at the driver. “Where are we going?”
“Safe house,” he answered curtly.
I knew better than to ask which one. We had plenty of places set up for emergencies like this, and right now, I didn’t care where we ended up as long as it was far away from Marcus and Damon.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally pulled up in front of a house tucked deep within the woods. The driver killed the engine, and Sarah and I wasted no time getting out.
Reyna moved slower, still weak from her injuries. I slung an arm around her waist, helping her toward the house.
“You need to rest,” I told her.
She sighed but didn’t argue. “Fine. But wake me up if anything happens.”
I helped her up the stairs and into one of the rooms. The moment she collapsed onto the bed, her body relaxed, exhaustion taking over.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Sleep, Reyna. You’re safe now.”
She nodded sleepily, and within seconds, her breathing evened out.
I stood there for a moment, watching her. She had been through hell, and yet, she still had the strength to fight. We all did.
Now, it was just a matter of finishing what we started.
Because this war wasn’t over yet.
____
Diane’s POV
Pain.
It was the first thing I registered when I opened my eyes. A searing, unbearable pain radiated from my right hand or what was left of it. My breath came in sharp gasps as I tried to move, but my body was weak.
The floor beneath me was cold, damp, and reeked of blood and dirt. My head pounded, and when I tried to push myself up, a fresh wave of pain shot through my arm.
I looked down.
A filthy cloth was wrapped around my stump of a wrist, soaked in my own blood. The sight made my stomach twist, and I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat.
Then I heard it.
A laugh.
Low. Amused.
I forced my head up, gritting my teeth through the agony. And there she was.
Stephanie.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin stretching across her face.
Anger flared inside me, momentarily cutting through the pain. “I’ll kill you,” I snarled, my voice hoarse.
Stephanie tilted her head, pretending to consider my words before laughing again. “I don’t think so,” she said smoothly. “Because you, Diane, are already dead. We’re just planning the execution.”
My breathing was ragged, my vision swimming, but I forced myself to hold her gaze. “You think you’ve won?” I spat. “You don’t know what’s coming for you.”
Stephanie smirked. “Oh, I do. But you won’t be around to see it.”
I clenched my jaw as a fresh wave of pain shot through my arm. My fingers curled into a tight fist at least, the ones on my remaining hand. “Where’s Damon?” I demanded.
Stephanie’s smirk widened. “Running like the coward he is.”
I narrowed my eyes. “He’ll come back.”
She chuckled. “I doubt that. But don’t worry, we’ll find him. And when we do, he won’t be running anymore.”
A slow, wicked smile stretched across my lips. “Damon is not easy prey,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’ll regret underestimating him.”
Stephanie stepped forward, her boots clicking against the floor. She crouched beside me, her eyes filled with mock sympathy. “You know,” she mused, “I had your severed hand fed to the dogs.”
I blinked.
Her grin widened. “They died.”
A sickening chill ran down my spine.
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Too much bile, I guess.”
My stomach twisted, nausea clawing at me. “You’re lying,” I rasped.
Stephanie simply shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
Before I could react, she lifted her boot and stomped down right on my wounded hand.
Pain exploded through my body, a raw, burning agony that tore a scream from my throat.
Stephanie laughed. “That’s for everything you’ve done,” she said, pressing down harder.
My vision blurred. The room tilted. Blood seeped through the cloth, staining the cold ground beneath me.
As she finally stepped back, I gasped for air, my entire body trembling.
She turned toward the door, her voice light, almost cheerful. “Enjoy your last days, Diane.”
Then she was gone.
And I was left in the darkness, my screams echoing off the walls, blood dripping onto the cold, unforgiving floor.