She stood slowly, testing her balance as the room rotated around her once…and twice.
She swayed but remained upright, gritting her teeth and pushing through the sick sensation.
Pain is just information. Use it or let it stop you.
She made it to the door with silent steps and jabbed the bobby pin into the lock.
Before she could trip it, the door flew open, slamming into her forehead.
Hard fingers bit into her arm as stars arced across her vision. Someone yanked her against his chest, knocking the air out of her.
When cold steel pressed into her throat, the sharp edge rattled her from her stupor. A blade pressed into her skin with just enough pressure to sting without breaking flesh.
She knew the blade—her own knife. The one she’d carried for years and that had saved her life more times than she could count. The dirty son of a bitch had stolen it from her when he knocked her out, and turned it on her now.
Her mind raced through options, calculating her odds with the cold detachment Smith had beaten into her.
She could elbow him in the ribs and his injured leg might throw off his balance. She could stomp his instep, go for his eyes, drop her weight and slip from his grip.
But the knife was so close she felt the blade move with every pulse of her jugular. One wrong move and he’d open her throat.
From the street came the screech of tires, not from just one vehicle but multiple vehicles skidding to a stop in front of the house.
The team. Blackout Charlie.
Sinner.
She stopped the surge of relief before even a drop flowed into her system. She had to keep a clear head and not let her emotions overcome her.
Cipher stiffened, his grip tightening on her arm until it went numb. “Your boyfriend brought his friends.”
Terror squeezed her lungs until she couldn’t draw a full breath. They’d come for her—of course they had—but now they were all in danger because of her.
Cipher started backing them out of the room and down a hallway, the knife still pressed to her skin hard. She moved with him, shuffling in awkward tandem as her mind continued to race through ways to shift the odds and give the team an opening.
Sinner, where are you?
She darted her gaze side to side but only saw plaster walls with water stains from some old plumbing leak.
They reached a door, and with a grunt of pain, Cipher kicked it open using the leg she’d stabbed just—was that only a day ago? All the hours blurred into one endless block of time.
The wood splintered as it slammed open, and Cipher dragged her out onto a porch, using her body as a shield.
Her stare raked over peeling paint and dry-rotted wood…to worn denim hugging muscular hips.
She jerked her gaze up and it landed on Sinner’s face.
A cry bottled in her throat, but she refused to let it loose for fear of giving Cipher more ammo to use against her and the man she loved.
Sinner stood in the middle of the overgrown yard with his weapon raised and his face a mask of apocalyptic rage.
The metal crash of car doors echoed from the street.
“That’s the team.” Sinner’s voice was lethal in a way she’d never heard before. “You’ve got two choices, Sheen. Decide between revenge or freedom.”
Cipher’s laugh was dark and utterly devoid of humanity. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
“You should be.”
