Cross’s eyebrows crease, and that same look on his face when I told him about Nicholas appears. “That’s because I do.”
Jason shifts the duffel bag to the other hand and smirks. “He’s got the confidence of someone who isn’t looking down the barrel of a gun.”
Alex shrugs and then raises the gun in Cross’s direction.
I scream, though it’s muffled. My wrists burn as I pull on them again and again, the chair creaking beneath my weight.
“Your little girlfriend seems distressed,” Alex says, turning and pointing the gun at me.
I stop moving immediately and stare at Alex’s hand wrapped around the gun. His finger hovers over the trigger.
“If you shoot her, you’ll be in the pen for a lot longer.” Cross’s words come out tight.
“The pen?” Jason laughs. “Unless you get the cops involved–”
Alex and Jason share a look, and suddenly their fun is cut short. They make a run for it. Alex shoves the gun into the back of his jeans as Jason holds the duffel close to his chest, both of them sprinting toward the door.
Cross reaches me in record time, and his shaky fingers work quickly to take the tape off my mouth. I wince at the pain, and as soon as my mouth is freed, I burst out into a sob.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Cross presses a kiss to my forehead and disappears behind me. “Oh my god,” he murmurs quietly, faintly touching my wrists. “Fuck, I need something sharp.”
Sirens echo in the distance, and I gasp with relief.
I thought it was just a trick to get them to leave.
The police are actually coming? They know?
Cross runs to one of the machines in the center of the factory, his movements jerky. Random objects clamor to the floor, but before I know it, Cross is back over to me with what looks like a rusty utility knife.
“Stay still, baby,” he says in a hushed voice.
The zip ties snap, the edge of them cutting into my skin as they slip to the floor.
I’m cradled in Cross’s arms before I even take a breath.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I keep my bloody hands still but press myself close to Cross. His heart pounds against my ear as I bury my face into his shirt, his grip on me tightening as he carries me toward the door.
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he mutters. “You’re in shock.”
I shake my head against his chest. “I’m–I’m not in shock.”
Fresh air hits my tear-stained face as I pull away from him. I glance into his face. His jaw, always sturdy and hardened, hangs loose with worry.
“I’m shaking from relief." My lip wobbles. “I thought they were going to kill you.”
Cross creases his brow. “Weren’t you afraid they were going to kill you?”
I think for a moment.
Cross Lopez.
My stepbrother.
The bane of my existence.
The guy I’ve found myself in love with.
