Page 147 of The Finish Line
“If you take her, my wrath would be welcome, wouldn’t it? One last thrill, old man, before you go?” I lift the Glock to my temple and Cecelia gasps my name. “I won’t let you have the fucking satisfaction, and if you even so much as look at her again, I die, and you won’t get what you came for. Care to fucking test me?”
His eyes light up with surprise. This was always going to happen. Always. No matter how much space I put between my past and present, Antoine was always the thread between them.
I became useless to him—to the game—when I gave in to my own needs for the first time in my life—when I stole those months with her. I knew then I’d lost the upper hand over any enemy past, present, or future.
I’ve always been right about emotional entanglements being a downfall. Just this once, I wish I was wrong.
For Antoine, it’s jealousy and greed that brought him here along with the tasteless state of his life now.
At one time, I saw his present as my own future. The future I agreed upon when I started all of this, one I accepted for myself more than once, until she came back into my life and reminded me that I had a choice. I sacrificed our happiness over and over to ensure this confrontation would never come to pass. But she and I have always been ill-fated, star-crossed in every imaginable way. In the end, I chose her, instead of suffering the wait without her. Emotion threatens and I swallow it back, my rage boiling over as I press the gun into my temple as Antoine keeps his gaze on mine.
“Just let her go.”
Antoine scoffs. “So fucking scripted. Who’s pathetic, Ezekiel?”
I saw Cecelia’s future as well, as she pleaded for me to love her back those long months ago, as she begged me to see what we could still be, all the while imagining what her life looked like through Delphine’s bloodshot eyes. By sacrificing our hearts, neither of our lives would be worth living. Mine as an emotionless and hollow man, and hers as a loveless woman. And even through it all, I know I felt it and she would say it now if given the chance: worth it.
Gun to my head, I stare off with Antoine in a dare. It’s me he wants, and I know despite his threat, I’m the real bargaining chip. I have to believe that he’ll attempt to talk me out of taking his prize away and spare her. It’s my only move.
“It was worth it, Trésor. So worth it,” I say, squeezing the trigger just enough to have Antoine gripping the sides of the wingback, his eyes fixed on me. He’s starting to believe me.
“Fireflies,” Cecelia says softly, and I turn my attention toward her.
“That’s our outside force, Tobias. They were the ones that looked out for us.” Her eyes water as she studies the gun pressed to my head. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I nod, my own eyes stinging as I weigh her words.
“We were never alone, Tobias,” she murmurs softly, her tone curling around my heart. I can see the resolution in her own eyes as we step to the edge of the cliff we’d thrust ourselves upon. Even now, while on the precipice, I can feel the conviction of that truth between us. Worth it.
“Heavy is the head, my love,” she murmurs as if we’re alone, “just this once, let me save you the burden.”
She turns her gaze back to Mr. Handsome and I do the same to see red lasers beaming through every window of the house just as I realize her intent.
“Cecelia, no!” I lunge for her just as she pulls the trigger.
Chapter Forty-One
Cecelia
Tobias has me pinned to the floor behind the couch as countless pings shatter the glass and both doors burst open. In seconds, the house is filled with blurred movements as Tobias curses in a mix of English and French, his eyes and hands searching me frantically for injuries.
“Trésor,” he croaks, his hands coming up empty as he palms every inch of me. Glancing over, I see Antoine deathly still—in the wingback chair I plan on burning—multiple lasers covering him from head to chest. Lights go up in the kitchen and surrounding rooms as Antoine’s men—those left standing—are secured and pulled to their feet, their fearful eyes darting around. Mr. Handsome lays dead just a few feet away, his eyes wide and lifeless. Shifting, I look up at Tobias and cup his face as he continues to murmur to me, his face panic-stricken as his palms roam up and down my body.
The fear and confusion in his expression have my heart aching and my love multiplying past the point of love—or whatever word represents what I feel for him—something that transcends it, something indescribable, something there will never be ample words for. When he sees I’m unharmed, his posture goes rigid as his gaze flits to Palo and Julien.
“What the fuck are these two not doing in cuffs?” he yells at the men securing the few left in the kitchen. I grip his face from where I lay on the floor beneath him.
“It’s already over, my love,” I inform him, as he briefly lowers his gaze to me and regrips his Glock. Intent on getting through to him, I cup his face in both hands as he struggles in my grip.
“Tobias, look at me,” I command in a tone that has his eyes moving slowly back to focus, “it’s over.”
Lips parting, he gazes down at me, the truth of it not quite getting through. “I love you, Ezekiel Tobias King, so fucking much,” I murmur, “even if you force me to prove myself to you time and time again. I told you I wouldn’t fucking hesitate, and I meant it.” His brows crease into a deep V. “You made me a Raven. You gave me my wings, so I took it upon myself to use them.”
“What?”
I call out to the man standing next to Palo. “Julien, s’il te plait,” Julien, please. Julien comes forward, kneeling so he’s eye level with Tobias before discarding his Glock on the carpet. Tobias bristles atop of me until Julien unbuttons his shirt and slowly rolls it up to reveal fresh ink.
Tobias’s jaw goes completely slack as he faces off with one of his own and realizes the implications of the hell he put him through.