“I’m out of here. This is too hot,” the buyer in the cowboy hat thundered, storming for the door. Someone knocked over a table—glass shattered, champagne dripped onto the floor—as the other buyers scrambled to follow him out.
“Goddammit! Look what you’ve done,” Enzo exploded, driving his pointed shoe into her ribs. “You cost me millions, interfering slut.”
She was still twitching from the shock as fire shot through her chest. Now, every breath was a struggle. Emily saw him bend toward her and knew more pain was coming.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” a new voice exclaimed angrily. “We need to go.”
Despite the fog in her head, she recognized it. Benny.
“If she was wired, the cops are on the way,” he said. “Move her and the rest of the merchandise to the Miramar warehouse. We’ll hold the auction online.”
“Fine,” Enzo snapped, wiping his hand on her blouse. But he leaned down and hissed at her, “This isn’t over between us. You’ll regret you’re still breathing as you beg for my mercy.” To his men, he barked, “Bring the bitch. Whoever sent her in will want her returned alive. She’s leverage now.”
Emily’s heart stuttered. Barely conscious, she clung to one hope—that Alec or someone was listening, hearing every word.
“She’ll need the juice,” someone said. “Same dose we give the rebellious ones.”
“Not too much,” Enzo grunted. “If I cracked her rib, I want her to experience the pain of betraying a Denali.”
“What about the cop?”
“Kill him,” Enzo ordered coldly.
Twin gunshots exploded through the small room. Emily would have screamed, but her body had forgotten how.
Rough hands grabbed her, holding her still. A needle pricked her thigh. It was nothing compared to the white-hot agony that followed when someone hauled her up and slung her over a shoulder.
She clung to one thought—her knight would come—before the world went dark.
***
Alec tracked the guard’s slow circuit along the west wall, counting steps, memorizing the gaps between passes. The estate looked calm from the outside—music drifting across the grounds, lights soft and golden—but he knew better. Every round those men made tightened the knot in his gut.
Dev’s voice cut into his earpiece, sharp and urgent. “The mission is compromised. They’ve made Jace.”
For one brutal heartbeat, Alec couldn’t breathe. It was what he had feared. What haunted his sleep.
When the order came, “All teams. Move in. Now,” he was already running.
He broke from cover at a sprint, weapon up, vaulting the low stone wall as gunfire cracked from the far side of the house. Marble sparked under impact ahead.
He could hear the chatter over his comm as a half dozen Devlin men and a tactical team from the Miami FBI field office swarmed the grounds. Short-staffed as always, they’d contracted with Dev’s crew to assist making their presence official
Alec couldn’t care less about protocol. The party was over. And Emily was still inside.
As he ran the length of the side portico, gunfire erupted from overhead. Alec dove behind a stone column and returned fire. Rhys slid in beside him.
“Snipers on the roof,” he warned, slamming in a fresh magazine.
They rose together and fired. One silhouette tumbled over the side and dropped three floors. Then the second.
Alec didn’t blink. “Let’s move,” he growled.
They advanced in bursts—fire, cover, fire again—picking off guards who seemed to multiply. But Alec pushed forward. Every second they lost was another second Emily was in danger.
“How many men are in there?” Rhys growled. “I’ve seen fewer in a bloody clown car.”
Smoke poured from shattered windows. Alec’s lungs burned, heart pounding like a war drum as they pressed forward. When they reached the side door, Leland shouted directions from behind, “Left then left again—private room at the end.”
