Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox)

I've seen enough hostage standoffs in crime dramas to know that whatever I've walked into right now, it's bad. Really bad.

I shouldn't have gotten out of the car.

I know that now.

But what kind of girlfriend would I be if I sat there while Knox walked into danger alone? He always acts like he's the only one who would be shattered if I died. What he doesn't understand is that if something happens to him, if he doesn't walk out of here alive, I won't survive it either. Maybe not physically, but in all the ways that matter, I'd be gone too.

So yeah. If this ends in flames, then fine. We'll burn together.

I slowly raise my hand, passing him the gun just like he asked. He takes it from me. Then his hand leaves my mouth, and before I can blink, he starts patting me down. I tense up when he brushes over my chest, down my thighs, fingers pressing into places he shouldn't be touching. My whole body wants to flinch away, but I keep still. Something about the way he talks-thick Russian accent, no emotion behind the words-makes me think it's smarter not to piss him off. So I swallow the disgust crawling up my throat and let him do his check.

When he's done, he grabs my arm and starts pushing me forward.

Down the stairs.

The voices that had been echoing from below go silent as we descend.

At the bottom, we enter what I recognize as the basement from Mateo's video call. Dim lighting. Bare concrete floor. And too many guns.

I freeze.

Finn, Soraya, and Hunter are still tied up. But what I walk into isn't the ambush I was expecting. No bullets flying. No screaming. No men bursting through doors with war cries and rifles.

Instead, it's quiet. Too quiet. And every single person with a gun in this basement has it pointed at someone else.

Knox's men and Mateo's are locked in a full standoff. Everyone's weapon is aimed at someone's chest.

I glance around. It takes me a second to realize that Knox's side is winning by just one. The extra man is currently crouched by Hunter's chair, slicing through the ties around his arms and legs. He doesn't stop, even though his eyes move to me the second I show up.

Everyone else sees me too.

Finn turns his head. His eyes lock on mine fast, and he straightens a little in his seat. He's bruised and a little bloodied, which tells me that Mateo's men must have done something to him after they disconnected the call. That bruise under his eye wasn't there before.

"Sloane?" he says, more out of reaction than as a question.

"What the hell," Serena adds.

Soraya rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on."

Hunter doesn't speak, but his jaw flexes hard. They're all looking at me like I don't belong here. Like I just became the variable that'll blow everything up.

Serena's the only one not tied up. She's leaning against the wall, breathing hard. One foot is on the ground while the bandaged one is slightly elevated. Her two hands are holding a rusted pipe tight enough that her knuckles are white. It looks like she'd been hopping to the stairs before I came down.

They're all looking at me now.

Knox. Mateo. Everyone.noveldrama

Knox is standing about ten feet away with his gun pointed directly at Mateo's head. He doesn't say anything, but the way his jaw tightens tells me everything.

He's pissed.

His arm shifts, and in a second, the gun that had been aimed at Mateo turns toward the man behind me.

"Let her go," he says.

Mateo smiles. "Look what we have here. I bet you weren't expecting this, Knox."

No. He definitely wasn't.

Knox is staring straight into my soul,

and I can't tell if he's about to

strangle me or wrap me in five layers of bubble wrap and throw me in a locked tower. His eyes are hard, really hard, but there's this other thing in them too. Worry. Part of him looks like he wants to shake me for disobeying him, and the other part is him trying not to fall apart just from seeing me here with a gun pointed to my head.

I refuse to look away, even though every instinct in me screams to drop my gaze and shrink into the floor.

My whole body's tense, heat climbing up the back of my neck. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach, but I keep my eyes on him.

I mouth, 'I'm sorry.'

And I am. Not for coming down here. Not for thinking maybe I could help. I'm sorry because of how it turned out. Because I walked in trying to protect the man I love, and now I've only made things worse.

"I said, drop the gun," Knox says, "and let her walk."

Mateo sighs. "Your problem, Knox, is that you've always been a difficult

Ref

person. Always refusing to acknowledge when you've been defeated. Even now. I have the upper hand. So why don't you do the smart thing and tell your men to lower their weapons before your boo's brain gets blown out?"

The gun at my head nudges forward for emphasis. I curse under my breath.

For someone who seems to be the only person in this room without a weapon, Mateo is remarkably unbothered. Relaxed, even. Like none of this is real to him. Like we're all characters in a game he's won.

I don't know why I ever doubted I'd pull the trigger if I came face-to-face with him. Maybe I thought I'd freeze, or that some last thread of empathy would hold me back. But standing here, seeing this man's presence fill the room like a sickness, I'm certain of one thing:

I wouldn't even pause to think.

"I'm not going to repeat this again, Mateo," Knox says. "Tell him to put down that gun."

"Or what, huh? You think you'll be fast enough to shoot him before he kills her?"