It wasn’t a nice butcher knife.
But it was still a very sharp bread knife. The deep serrations would probably serve me even better than a normal knife.
I shoved the flat edge under the zip tie, then bit my lip to keep from making any noise as the back of the knife pressed hard into my skin as I started to saw at the tie.
It wasn’t quick work, and even the unsharpened edge managed to slice into my skin a bit until I felt the snap that said I was free.
I heard Cameron coming back then, so I tucked my knife under my leg and twisted the zip tie until it looked like I was still bound.
He was pacing, raking his hands through his hair, ranting and raving to himself about his crew, the town, Perish, on and on.
They were the ramblings of a half-crazed, desperate man. A man who never would have been strong enough to start his own crew. He knew it, too. It was why he had to take one that had been temporarily handed to him then try to murder the man who’d saved him time and time again.
The attack on Perish’s character was relentless.
Enough that I eventually started to mouth back.
But weak men hated any threat to their power.
Cameron stalked toward me, cocked back, and swung.
It was then that something crashed hard.
And I knew.
I knew I was safe.
Someone had come for me.
Inwardly, I prayed it was Perish as Cameron turned and ran, a roar rising in his throat.
I couldn’t see from my position on the floor, but it was only a beat or two before the space was filled with the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh.
I scrambled for the knife then propped it between my knees, holding it as still as possible as I ran my arms up and down the serrations, wincing at the sounds that seemed to grow more brutal with each passing moment.
It seemed like it might never happen.
And then… the snap.
Hope surged.
Until I heard the shots.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gracie
I knew that when gunshots were ringing out, what you were meant to do was stay low, make yourself small, become less of a target.
But someone I loved was out there.
So I shot to my feet at the first shot.
I was standing there to watch the second bullet rip into Perish’s body, making him jerk, stumble.
But he recovered even as blood bloomed through his shirt. Then charged forward again toward his old protégé.
The third bullet had him dropping to his knees.
