“Calm down.” My voice sounded too loud. “Don’t trigger another dose.”
Forcing myself to breathe through my nose, I jiggled the wire around, trying to spring the lock.
“Come on.Open.”
Whisper whined, his hackles rising as he stared into the dark behind me.
“You deal with it,” I ordered. “I’m busy.”
With a hiss, he stalked forward, tail dead straight.
The urge to look over my shoulder to see how many assassins had found me, battled with the desperation to unlock thisfuckingdoor.
Whisper snarled, low and threatening.
A nervous feminine laugh replied.
At least one would-be killer had arrived.
My temper suddenly exploded.
I flung away the useless wire, yanked the dagger from my sleeve, and inserted the tip into the lock. I hacked at it instead of teased.
I hated this.
All of it.
I was disgustingly claustrophobic.
Driven to breaking point.
Moments away from snapping and burning and slaughtering every-goddamn-thing and every-fucking-one in this motherfucking place.
I needed out.
NOW!!!!!
My heart rate soared past my control.
A hot, painful punch cut through my coat and sank into my shoulder. I cursed and spun around.
Three of them.
Probably the last three I hadn’t dispatched out of the sixteen or so who’d come to murder me. They formed a semi-circle, bleeding from the night, dressed all in black like me.
The dark-skinned model to my left grinned, knowing she’d hurt me with whatever weapon she’d thrown.
I felt it embedded in my shoulder, blood oozing down my spine.
Over the years, they’d tried different methods to take my life. Throwing stars, knives, a metal garrotte—one even sneaked in a collapsible bow and arrow.
Why Marcus allowed it, I didn’t know. Perhaps he liked the sport of watching me fight to survive, all while knowing I begged for death. Maybe he hated me so much, even the allure of all the money my company made him couldn’t quite stop the glee he’d feel at killing me.
Either way, I was getting sick and fucking tired of this never-ending war—of not having a say in my own existence.
Whisper’s low rumble tainted the night.
Fisting the dagger for a different purpose instead of a jailbreak, I glanced at each woman. “I wouldn’t bother if I were you. You don’t stand a chance.”
