“Please,” she said. “Please, don’t kill him. Please. Please.”
She was crying now, dragging her nails frantically over Jericho’s arms. Mal didn’t want Jericho to stop. He wanted to watch Jason’s face cave in. He wanted to be the one killing him, wanted to shoot the man in the face, watch his brains splatter all over the walls.
Nico moaned. No. He was more important. Nico was hurt. Nico was bleeding everywhere. Because he’d been stabbed. Oh, God. He’d been stabbed. Fuck.
Mal fell to the floor, dragging Nico into his lap, pushing his sweaty hair from his face. He already looked chalky, but his gaze was sharp. He held a hand over his abdomen while he gazed up at Mal with heart eyes.
“Why is it always me?” he joked, laughing then wincing. “Fuck, they never mention how much getting stabbed hurts.”
“This isn’t funny,” Mal choked out.
Why was he making jokes now?
Nico shrugged. “It’s a little funny. How many people can say they’ve been stabbed twice in the same fucking place?”
Mal felt like he was having some kind of out-of-body experience. Like things were happening outside his control. He ripped his shirt over his head, stuffing it under Nico’s own, forcing another pained groan from him as he pressed down hard on the wound.
When Adam and August fell through the door, it felt like it was hours later, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. Jason was still on the floor. Amy was still trying to pull Jericho off him.
Adam dragged Amy away from Jason, which allowed August to step in front of Jericho, keeping him from landing another vicious kick. Mal could only watch—Nico half in and half out of his lap—as Amy fought their hold, screaming and crying.
“Was she not who we were rescuing?” Adam growled, keeping Amy in his grasp but only just barely.
If Adam was looking for an explanation, they didn’t have one. They didn’t understand what was going on, either.
“Look at her,” Jericho said. “I doubt she consented to those bruises.”
Adam spun her around. “What’s your deal, lady?”
“He has my daughter!” she snapped. “He said if his people don’t hear from him at a certain time every night, they’ll kill her.”
What?
“He doesn’t have Casey,” Mal said, brow furrowed.
Amy stilled. “What?”
“Casey’s been with us this whole time. Well, with friends. But she’s perfectly safe,” Mal assured her.
Relief flooded her face, her knees going weak, forcing Adam to hold her up. “She’s safe? You’re sure?”
Mal nodded, still looking down at Nico’s face. Was he getting paler? Fuck. “She’s always been safe. He lied to you.”
Her gaze finally snapped back to Jason and his mangled face. Despite his injuries, he managed to wheeze out a laugh. “Stupid bitch.”
Amy froze, her chest heaving. Mal jumped as Amy made an almost inhuman sound, breaking free of Adam’s hold and lunging at Jason, kicking at him repeatedly in the expensive heels he’d likely forced her to wear. By the time Adam managed to drag her back, Jason was unconscious.
Amy’s hair was a mess, her makeup melted from her exertion. “He said he had her,” she muttered, shaking her head. “He told me. He…he showed me videos of her!”
She was talking to herself, not them.
“Jericho!” Mal shouted. “I think we need an ambulance.”
Nico was white, his lips blue. He wasn’t coughing up blood, but his pallor had Mal’s heart in a vice-grip. Nico was still conscious, gazing up at Mal with a smile that actually pissed him off a little.
“What are you grinning about?” he asked, baffled.
“You’re crying,” he said, sounding smug.
