“How did Dante find us?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Trent said and rubbed the back of his neck.
He released my hand, and I flexed my fingers, readjusting my ring. My hand was numb, but that was the least of my concerns right now.
“So, you don’t know that woman?” I asked. “You and her never…?”
“What?” he snapped. “No. Of course not. She’s one of Dante’s girls.”
“What does that mean?” I moved to stand in front of Trent and rested my hands on his chest.
His eyes were pitch black, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “It means we need to get the hell out of here,” he said. He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me out of the room.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I knew he wouldn’t answer them. He was too busy ushering me out to the rental truck, his gaze darting around nervously.
Once I was safely in the truck, I said, “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“I will. As soon as we’re far away from here,” he said.
I wracked my brain trying to remember what Macaih, Colt, and Trent had told me about Dante. I knew he was not a nice guy, that he liked to hurt innocent humans, and that everyone was terrified of him. But why had he seemed so friendly with Trent? What, exactly, was their connection?
The minutes-long drive felt like hours with the silence that hung heavy between us. Even when dealing with Ivy and the Zoya, I’d never seen Trent so scared. He pulled to a stop in front of our cabin and climbed out of the truck. I scrambled out after him. He unlocked the door and motioned for me to go in.
“Start packing,” he said as he zipped around the cabin collecting our belongings and shoving them into whatever open luggage he could find.
I wasn’t about to question Trent’s decision on this matter because he knew a lot more about Dante than I did, and obviously, he was someone we needed to get far away from, but I couldn’t stop the sudden, sharp pang of sadness that landed in my chest.
Our honeymoon was over. Just like that.
We didn’t have nearly enough time here together. Tears pooled in my eyes. I hastily wiped them away. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for myself. So what if our honeymoon was cut short? We’d have an eternity to do whatever we wanted.
“Chloe, honey.” Trent was in front of me, his hands on my face. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I imagined things going.”
“I know,” I whispered, even though I didn’t really know anything about what was going on.
He lowered his mouth to mine, and my eyes fluttered closed at the feel of his lips working against mine with such tenderness. I slipped my arms around his waist and leaned into him.
Behind me, the door flew open, the wood splintering loudly, the shards flying into the room. I screamed. Dante and Vivienne strode into the cabin. Trent shoved me toward the bedroom, but I’d barely taken one step when Vivienne suddenly appeared in front of me.
I skidded to a stop, eyes wide. I willed my heart to slow, but it was useless. I was now standing in the bedroom doorway, face to face with Vivienne, while Trent was in the living room, facing off with Dante.
“What do you want, Dante?” Trent asked.
“It’s not what I want,” Dante said. “It’s what Yolanda wants. She’s wanted you for years, Trenton. And I’m going to be the one to hand you over to her.”
“You’ll have to kill me before I ever go back to her.” Trent spat the words like they were poisonous.
I gasped. There was no way I’d let Dante kill Trent. Not that I had any power to stop him, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight, which, I guessed, was exactly what Dante wanted. I attempted to take a step toward Trent, but Vivienne matched my movements.
“I don’t get the appeal,” Vivienne said, eyeing me with disdain. “So weak and helpless.” She shook her head.
“It’s not playtime, Viv,” Dante said. “Take care of her so we can be on our way.”
Vivienne reached for me. Adrenaline spiked through my veins, preparing me to fight as hard as I could. My muscles tensed, too, preparing me to run for my life if necessary.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Trent said.
In a flash, Vivienne had her hand around my neck. I gasped, and my eyes bulged. I clawed at her hands, trying to get her to release me, but the harder I fought, the tighter she squeezed.
Suddenly, blood splattered across the front of me. Vivienne’s hand fell away from my throat, and I slumped to the ground, gasping for air. Trent stood over her limp body, his hand and arm covered in Vivienne’s blood. He held her heart in his palm.
His face was twisted with rage, his eyes unseeing black puddles of ink. He looked exactly as he had when Isach made me hallucinate at Rachel’s funeral. Only this time, I knew everything I was seeing was very real.
Dante sighed. “That was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” He shook his head and frowned. “She was one of my favorites.”
“I told you this would happen if you touched Chloe again.” Trent’s voice was icy but calm. He dropped Vivienne’s heart to the floor. “Chloe?” He held his non-bloody hand out to me.
This wasn’t the Trent I knew and loved. My Trent wasn’t some violent monster who could—or would—rip out someone’s heart without flinching. Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I cupped my shaking hand over my mouth. The room spun.
Trent reached for me, and I scrambled away from him. Hurt flashed across his face. Hot tears blazed down my cheeks. What was I doing?
