Blood Match (Blood Type 2)

Harrington waved his hand dismissively. “More of this ‘my city’ business. If it was truly yours then you wouldn’t have handed it over to me so readily. I didn’t even have to kill you like you killed your predecessor.”

“You were offering us a utopia. I was a fool to have ever believed in it. Now I won’t stop until I see it ended.”

Harrington sighed. “Oh Beckham, I do wish you hadn’t said that.”

“I was wrong about you. About all of you and all of this.” His eyes moved from Harrington to Rowland and back. “I will burn you to the ground.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” Harrington said. “I am already burning you down. Your little bunker. Your little rebellion. All of Elle.”

Reyna gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. She took a step forward without knowing she’d done it, as if she could somehow get him to take it back.

“Burned?” she whispered.

What about everyone inside? What about her brother and Laura? What about Sydney and Washington and Tye? Even Everett! All those people working toward this moment of triumph. And now they were burning. Her throat closed up. She could almost smell the smoke from where she stood in horror.

“You burned down Elle?” Beckham asked, his voice as sharp as a razor blade.

“I’d thought that you’d at least deny your involvement. That you’d show me that you are still the person that I recruited so many years ago. It’s a shame. I wanted it to be you.” And Harrington did look moved. But not repentant.

“I won’t deny anything.” Beckham reached out and seized Rowland by the neck and then threw him backward. Rowland collided with the building and crumpled, cracking the side of the building and taking a few bricks with him. He coughed and tried to rise, but fell down again. “And now all of your guard dogs are down for the count.”

Harrington laughed. Actually laughed. “I always loved your enthusiasm, Beckham.”

Beckham reached out to grasp Harrington. To end this whole thing. But Harrington was fast. Much faster than Beckham had been anticipating. He moved out of the way and gracefully stood back with his hands in his pockets.

“You’re missing something, Beckham,” Harrington said. “You haven’t quite realized that you’ve lost. If you fight against me, I’ll kill Reyna. If you fight against me, I’ll kill Bronwyn. If you fight against me, I’ll crush your little rebellion. Oh, wait, I already did that for your insolence.”

“You can’t kill them if you’re dead,” Beckham said.

“I have a sniper on that building,” Harrington said, pointing behind them. “And a kill order on Bronwyn if anything happens to me. Both will be dead before you can do to me what you just did to Cassandra.”

Beckham snarled. But Reyna could see the moment Harrington’s words sunk in. He had the upper hand. Neither of them were getting out of this. Somehow Harrington had managed to outmaneuver them.

“I have all the players on the board. I even have your little Penelope. What a treat that girl is. You know what they say about crossing a scorned woman.”

Reyna’s stomach sank even further. Penny. Hell hath no fury. Of course, she hadn’t just turned…she’d turned coat too. She’d double-crossed Elle. Sent them into another ambush.

Harrington smiled at their shocked silence. “Checkmate.”

Beckham’s fury simmered, but she could see that he knew there was no win in this scenario. Penelope had sold them out. Harrington would kill Reyna and Bronwyn if he tried to kill him. He knew all along what was going to happen. Which meant that they had no action here.

Harrington won.

He fucking won.

All of this for nothing.

Losing Brian for nothing. Putting her life on the line for nothing. Elle burning for nothing.

Her eyes snagged on Beckham. There was love. Endless eternal love in those eyes. And an apology. For fucking up. For walking her into this. For not being able to fix all of it.

She’d made this plan. She’d walked them all into it. It was her fault, not Beckham’s. He hadn’t wanted to risk it. And she’d been so headstrong that she hadn’t stopped to consider the real possibility that Harrington could win this.

Their rebellion was just and righteous.

They had to win.

And yet…there was no hope.

Not even a sliver that they could escape this. If Beckham moved against Harrington, he’d destroy everything he loved. And Harrington didn’t need Reyna. He had another match. She was no longer one of a kind to him.

But her mind snagged on that.

A little old lady.

He’d said that. No…sneered that. He must be drinking from her to be so healthy…but she couldn’t be providing everything he needed. He wouldn’t have tried to negotiate with her if he didn’t care. In fact, he wouldn’t have bothered with any of these charades if he hadn’t really needed Reyna.

Her mind wrapped around that piece of information. She looked it over from every angle. Assessed its worth. And then made her decision.