Kill him.
Rip him apart like paper.
His voice dropped low, almost seductive. “That’s it, sugar. Scream.”
Claw that smile off his face.
I put all my hatred into my voice. “I can’t wait to see what he does to you.”
“I’msoscared.”
The door slammed open, the guard Miller sent earlier blocking the threshold. He dropped, revealing a knife in his back, and Lucas Scott standing on the other side.
I tried to move, but every motion of my arms sent ribbons of fire through my hands. Lucas scanned the scene, lingering a beat on the knife in my hands.
Loathing unfurled in my gut at Miller’s grin. “Look, gents! There’s my traitor.” He lowered his voice for me. “He took the bait.”
Lucas’s hair was windblown and sweat-drenched, his fair skin spattered in blood. He held his weapons ready for a fight, and Miller drew his own weapon. A loaded gun.
Leaping out of the way, Lucas dodged the first shot. One of the guards jumped at him, and Lucas’s knife found purchase in his side. I screamed as the second bullet caught the man in the chest, and he choked.
Lucas backed against the wall, the dead soldier between him and Miller, who now stood behind me, hovering his gun above my left ear.
The remaining two soldiers sprang at Lucas, impeded by the arrival of Adam. He darted through the door, tackling one man while Lucas threw a knife at the second. The man stumbled into a corner, knife buried in his throat.
I wrenched on my hands despite the pain, failing to free myself.
Miller’s gun exploded again, a bullet burying itself in the wood behind Adam. With the guard now dead at his feet, Adam rose, aiming his own gun at Miller.
My heart tripped as I stared wide-eyed at his bluff. He had no bullets. He faced Miller’s loaded weapon with nothing but a bulletproof vest and an excellent poker face.
I yanked again, whimpering. The knife jiggled.
“You hurting, Jackie?” Lucas asked from behind his human shield.
I glanced at Miller. He had the gun in his left hand, his right being the one Luke had injured.
“I’ve had worse. Not sure how you got your reputation, Lucas. You couldn’t manage to kill a wounded man.”
Sweat beading on my brow, I rocked my hands back and forth, easing the knife from the armrest, swallowing whimpers of pain.
Arm steady, Adam’s empty gun stayed trained on Miller.
“How’d you like cleaning my mess?” Lucas asked.
Miller spat.
Back and forth, back and forth.
The knife wiggled more. I kept my movements subtle. Adam hadn’t shifted, penetrating cinnamon eyes locked on Miller.
In seconds, Miller would call his bluff. I had to do something.
Ignoring the searing torment, I wrenched my hands up, tearing the blade from the chair. I reached for Miller’s wrist, knocking his aim off when his third round released. It burrowed through the wall and hit something outside that sent sparks flying into the night.
I stood, and the chair slammed into Miller as he reached for me. Lucas’s familiar hands jerked me by the waist, tossing me out of the way.
Rounds discharged while I regained my bearings.
