Without a word, I bolted out, kicked my legs into gear, and pounded my feet into the carpeted floor.
Junior was running, appearing as though the vertigo he complained of moments ago wasn’t bothering him. Then he made a sharp left and shoulder checked a door. “This way. Hurry!”
Once in the stairwell, he stopped for a second, shook his head, then took the stairs two at a time.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The lab,” he said.
“It’s on fire.” I wanted to believe I’d learned my lesson when I tried to save Sam from the helicopter, and from what I’d seen, Sam was handling himself just fine.
“I need to save Carly,” he said.
It was admirable he wanted to help the woman he was in love with. I would do the same. But did he truly know who she was?
“I can’t go with you. We need to get out of this building.” I had to show Sam and Webb and the others I wouldn’t throw myself into danger. Coming here to talk was one thing. Running into a fire with no way out was suicide. Sam had lived through an explosion when the house I’d been renting in Massachusetts blew sky-high from C-4, so he would make it out of here alive. I had to believe that.
Junior stopped short and glared up at me with fear and desperation in his blue eyes. “Please, Layla. Carly’s life is in danger. Mason or the shifter will kill her. You can distract Mason while I tackle the shifter.”
A laugh bubbled free. “No offense, cousin, but you don’t stand a chance with that beast.” The wolf was by far no animal a human wanted to mess with.
“Then help me. Please!” His voice cracked.
My hands were tied. I had no clue how to get out of there, but Junior did. I needed him as much as he needed me.
I grunted in frustration, and when I did, a vision of Rianne driving a dagger into my stomach came out of nowhere, and my chest tightened.
“What is it?” Junior asked.
I held my throat and swallowed. “Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand, and we were pressed for time anyway. I climbed down the steps toward him, trying to clear my head.
At that moment, I believed without question that Abbey’s premonition of Rianne killing me would come true. Webb and Jo’s adoptive daughter had the ability to see into the future, and she didn’t know how or when I would suffer at the hands of my sister, but I was beginning to.
I shook off the weirdness of why I had the vision and waggled my finger at Junior. “When we get down there, you have two minutes. Then I’ll find my own way out.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Once we reached the bottom floor, and he threw open the door to the lab, I stopped short.
Sam was walking through a plume of smoke, carrying Carly. Her arms dangled and her head flopped backward, but I didn’t see any blood on her. But déjà vu whacked me hard. Sam had strutted out of the fire and wreckage, carrying Rianne’s body from the rubble of my rental house.
Was this the way my future was heading? Explosions, fire, running, fighting, war? I didn’t want any of that for my child.
“If you’ve hurt my wife,” Junior said, “I’ll slit your throat.”
Sam snarled, showing bloody fangs. “I wouldn’t hurt her. I need her.”
“Then why is she out cold?” Junior asked.
“Talk to Lester Worthington.” Sam glared daggers at Junior. “Let me guess. You’re Jack Jr.”
“I’m also your savior,” Junior said, sounding like his father with that deep, patronizing tone.
“You’re an asshole like your old man,” Sam muttered as he deposited Carly in Junior’s arms. Then he set his sights on me.
Holy hell.Millions of butterflies flapped their wings inside my stomach. My heart was ready to leap into Sam’s large hands. I was on the brink of bursting into tears—happy ones. It didn’t matter that a fire burned behind Sam. It didn’t matter that my own family wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. It didn’t matter that my life was in a never-ending cyclone of death and war. All that mattered was Sam Mason.
My mouth went dry, my heart hammering as he stalked toward me with a sense of purpose, his silver eyes probing me, bringing a welcomed fresh wave of fluttering inside my stomach. He grinned, showing dimples that only made those butterflies swarm into a frenzy. He whisked a large hand through his unbound black shoulder-length hair—or tried to, but his fingers caught on that contraption he wore. He ripped it off and flung it to the side.
