“Liam?” she whispered.
He looked up. “I remembered the words to the song, Alanna.” He sang in a low voice. “Two souls bound which none can sever. This nightsong is for you. Our love will last through fire and trouble. This nightsong is for you. Not even death can break our hearts. This nightsong is for you.” His voice cracked on the last note of the song.
The words and the voice sank into her heart. It was her husband. How and by what means he was standing here, she couldn’t be knowing. Nor did she care. She knew it was Liam. The verse in Psalm 139 about being fearfully and wonderfully made had resonated in her heart. Her husband was as unique and individual as the baby she carried, and every sense she owned recognized him.
She took a step nearer. “Liam,” she whispered again. Then she was in his arms, and his lips were on hers. There was no question it was the man she loved. The scent of his sweet breath, the firm press of his lips against hers, the way he held her so tightly. She reveled in his embrace, burrowed against his chest, inhaled the essence of him.
She would never let him go again.
“What’s going on here?”
When Liam’s arms tightened around her at the sound, she began to swim up out of her joy-caused stupor. She murmured a protest when Liam’s lips were withdrawn from hers, when his grip slackened. Wait, that voice. It was Barry. He was here.
She turned to face him. “Barry, you’ll never believe it.”
“Believe what? That you’re a conniving, scheming whore who has taken my love and thrown it back in my face?” He screamed the words, spittle spraying from his mouth.
Advancing on them with his hands curled into claws, he bore no resemblance to the elegant, professional attorney she thought she knew. The kind man who had offered to help her and her mates had morphed into a monster she didn’t recognize.
She held out a hand to him. “Barry, I’m sorry. But it’s Liam. He’s not dead. This is Liam, not Jesse.”
He threw back his head and howled. “You betray me and then make up some kind of weird lie?” There was murder in his eyes.
Liam stepped in front of her with his hands outstretched. “C’mere, mate. Don’t carry on like this. We’ll sort it all out.”
“We’ll sort out nothing,” Barry said, his voice devoid of anything but an icy cold. “I killed you once. I can do it again.” From somewhere, he had a knife in his hand.
Before Alanna could shout a warning, Barry was hurtling toward Liam with the knife held high overhead. In one monstrous arc, he drove it into Liam’s chest. There was a funny punching sound, then blood sprayed from Liam’s chest and covered Barry’s grinning face before he turned toward Alanna.
“Your turn, my cheating little wife,” he said.
Blood poured from Liam’s chest. Alanna stood frozen in place as the red stain mingled with the rain that soaked his shirt.
“Run, Alanna,” he whispered. “Run!”
His words penetrated her stupor, and she realized Barry was advancing with the knife, its shaft still red with Liam’s blood. She wanted to go to Liam, help him, but if she did, they would both die and so would their baby. She was no match for Barry’s bulk and muscles. She needed a weapon.
She wheeled and ran for the stairs. He didn’t know she had a key to the locked room. She could hide there until he ran past. Then she’d find a gun. Barry bellowed her name and started after her. She dared a glance back and saw him rushing to the steps. He reached the rug at the bottom and slipped, going down on one knee.
His fall gained her a few seconds. She ran down the hall and turned the corner, then raced to the end. Her hands shook as she jammed the key into the lock and turned it. She heard the click, then quickly opened the door and stepped inside. She locked the door, then realized there was a deadbolt so she threw it as well.
It was too dark in the room to see well. She would need to turn on the light, but would he see the glow of it from under the door? She realized she was standing on a throw rug. Kneeling, she bunched it up and wadded it along the bottom crack of the door.
Her mouth was dry and her blood roared in her ears as she put her head against the door and tried to listen. There. The sound of feet walking purposefully along the hall, then the squeak of a door opening. The sound continued, and she knew Barry was checking each room in a methodical way. What would he do when he reached this door? Surely he wouldn’t be surprised it was locked.
She licked her lips and curled her hands into fists. Liam was bleeding in the hall and she was stuck up here unable to help him. How badly was he hurt? The stabbing had looked horrific. She prayed that Grady would come. Anyone who might help.