Page 81 of Wicked Exile

Her focus stayed on him and him alone as the tip of the knife punctured down into her skin. Pain no longer a concern, a smile came to her face. She could go like this. As long as Evan was with her.

But then he moved.

A fist swinging wide and slamming into Gilroy’s face, sending him backward, the knife flying through the air.

She blinked, her mind not working fast enough.

How had Evan done that?

He was an apparition. How in the hell had he done that?

He lunged to her left, out of her view.

A crash of bodies. A scream.

Her head flopped to the left.

No, that was two men scuffling in the dirt. Rolling. Gilroy on top. Not an aberration.

“Ye slimy bastard—ye double crossed me.” Gilroy swung the dagger down at Evan, rage at his lips.

No. No. No.

Her mouth opened as she pushed herself upright, the scream silent. That knife needed to be in her. Not Evan.

Evan caught Gilroy’s arm, stopping the knife an inch from his eye. “I don’t trust ye,” Evan’s voice roared, filling the room. “That is different. And I’ve finally seen the truth of you. The truth I should have known my whole life, but was too blind to see.”

The tip of the blade dangling above Evan’s face, Gilroy’s left hand went onto the butt of the knife and he pressed down with all his weight, a vicious growl screeching from his lips.

The tip of the blade dipped a speck closer to Evan’s eye and then jerked up as Evan crashed a fist into Gilroy’s chest, sending him flailing.

“Should’ve chosen a damn arrow, brother.” Evan scrambled to his feet.

Too late.

Avoiding falling onto his back, Gilroy had caught his heel under him and sprang, running out the open door into the dimly lit night, charging into the brick wall just four steps opposite the door and then darting to the right.

Evan chased him out the door and Juliet could hear the thunder of boots running up wooden stairs that had to be positioned between the buildings. Gilroy’s. Evan’s.

Juliet tugged at the chain around her ankle, dragging herself toward the door.

The clunking of boots stopped.

“Live with this, brother.” Gilroy’s shout, cold and merciless, echoed down to her.

And then the sudden flash of a body dropping…hitting the stone ground just outside the door.

Her head shook, her sight blurring.

No—no—no. Not Evan.

A scream stuck in her throat, unable to escape. Her mind went numb, refusing to comprehend the flames of hell licking at her, consuming her.

More boots clunking on stairs. Landing, running to the body on the ground. Bending over it.

Big, filling the height of the doorway. Wide shoulders.

Evan.