Opening my eyes, I join her, carefully sorting through the mess. “It’s cool that you like Stranger Things.”
“Daddy says I shouldn’t watch it ‘cause it’s scary and will give me bad dreams, but Pop Pop lets me. He says I’m a badass.” She shrugs.
A laugh bursts past my lips. This kid. She’s something else. “Your grandpa sounds cool.”
“He’s the coolest,” she agrees, standing on her tiptoes to reach the back of a shelf. “We should try to find Eddie! He’s a limited edition.”
“Not a bad idea. He’ll probably be worth something someday,” I say, helping her move boxes around. “I think I saw some more over on that end.”
We shift down the aisle, and I’m about to grab a box when the hair on the back of my neck stands up. A chill runs through me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.
Someone’s watching us.
I casually glance over my shoulder, trying not to look alarmed. A man stands at the end of the aisle, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He’s staring directly at us.
At Saylor.
My heart rate kicks up, and I turn back to the shelves, keeping my movements casual while my mind races. I’m probably overreacting. After spending the last several hours searching for human traffickers, I’m seeing threats everywhere.
But then I notice a second man at the other end of the aisle, effectively boxing us in.
Okay, this isnotjust in my head.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Hey, Saylor,” I say, keeping my voice light despite the panic building in my chest. “I think we should go find your uncle now.”
“But we haven’t found Eddie yet!” she protests, picking up another Funko Pop.
“We can look again in a few minutes,” I promise, gently taking the boxes from her hands and setting them on the shelf. “Let’s go see if your uncle’s done with his cigarette.”
The men are moving now, both walking toward us with purposeful strides.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I pull Saylor against me, positioning myself between her and the approaching men. I scan the aisle for an escape route, but they’ve cut us off.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my voice shaking.
The first man smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just browsing.”
His eyes move behind me, then suddenly he lunges, reaching for Saylor.
Pure instinct takes over and I bring my knee up hard between his legs. He doubles over with a pained grunt, dropping to his knees.
“Run, Saylor!” I shout, but before she can move, the second man grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.
Pain shoots through my shoulder as he yanks me toward him. I twist, clawing at his face with my free hand, my nails raking across his cheek. He lets out a string of curses, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench away.
“Bitch!” he snarls, rearing back his fist.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
But it never comes.
I open my eyes to find Bane standing there, his massive hand wrapped around the man’s wrist, holding the punch frozen an inch from my face.
Holy shit.
The look on Bane’s face makes my blood run cold. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. His nostrils are flared, and his blue eyes—usually so vibrant—have turned to ice. He’s not just angry. He’s fucking feral.
