“Yes,” she chokes out. A breath passes, then another. “Thank you, Gage.”
Before I can respond, the footsteps stop outside the cell door, and my heart freezes.
The door creaks open slowly, the metal groaning in protest. I hear one of them reach for the light switch, the faint click as he flicks it on, but nothing happens. It’s pitch black, and I can sense their confusion, the way they pause, the way their voices rise in frustration as they argue in Spanish.
My fist tightens around the glass and fuck, I can’t help it.
I smile.
The door swings fully open with a loud clang, and that’s when I move. I charge them, silent and deadly, the glass chunk in my hand raised high. They don’t have time to react before I’m onthemstabbing, stabbing,stabbing. The sharp edge plunges into flesh over and over again as I release every ounce of anger, every breath of rage.
“Now!” I shout, tossing one to the side as he goes limp. “Go!”
I hear one of them grunt in pain, a curse slipping out in Spanish. The wind rushes past me, and I know it’s Katarina, running for her life. Good. She’s out. She has a chance.
But I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I keep stabbing, keep fighting, the glass slick with blood in my hand. One of the guards shouts for backup, his voice panicked, but I don’t let up. I’m not going down without a fight. I slash and stab and enact my revenge until all I see in the darkness is her.
It’s not them I’m fighting. It’s Gus. The man who dared to touch her world, taint her happiness. The fucker set his eyes on the wrong goddamned person, and I’ll be fucked if he ever gets his hands on her.
I don’t even know if anyone is still alive when, suddenly, something hits me hard—a fist, a baton, I don’t know.
The world spins.
Pain explodes in my head, bright and blinding, and my knees buckle. I go down, the darkness swallowing me whole as the fight slips away. The last thing I hear is the guard’s ragged breathing, the clatter of the glass falling from my hand, and the warm, blood-soaked floor rushing up to meet me.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up on the cold, hard ground, my body screaming in protest as I push myself up. My hands are cuffed behind my back, the metal digging into my wrists, and as I blink away the fog clouding my vision, I’m met with the barrel of a gun aimed squarely at my head. My heart races, panic tightening in my chest as I take in my surroundings.
God-fucking-dammit.
How did I escape one set of cuffs only to land in another?
I blink past bright lights, ignoring my throbbing head when it spins. The second I’m oriented, I scan my surroundings, going on the defense.
Nyx is to my left, barely able to stand, his face a mask of pain and exhaustion. He looks like he’s one step away from collapsing, and my heart lurches at the sight. Maddox, my baby brother, is on my right, looking half-dead. My breath catches in my throat, a wave of nausea rolling through me as I try to steady myself. Every part of my body hurts, a deep, bone-deep ache that makes it hard to focus, hard to think.
The sun shines through barred windows, casting harsh lines of light across what was likely the prison cafeteria. The room is large and desolate, filled with an air of hopelessness. The walls are stained and cracked, remnants of old meals and hatred clinging to the corners.
There have to be at least twenty guards in here. Men who started as lowly gang members, but worked their way up to my sick father’s elite circle. They all wear the same expression filled with hatred and cockiness. I grimace, knowing it’ll be the latter that gets them killed.
But as I continue to scan my surroundings, none of that matters. All I can think about is the absence of one person.
Stone.
I can’t see him. I can’t find him. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as I struggle to make sense of what’s happening. I want to call out for my brother, to scream his name and demand answers, but the words stick in my throat, choking me with fear.
What’s going on?
Where the hell is Gus?
The questions swirl in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. I meet Nyx’s eyes, desperate for reassurance, somethingto ground me. But Nyx just jerks his chin toward the middle of the room.
I follow his gaze, my breath hitching as I spot a large box-like shape covered in a ratty white sheet. The sight of it sends a chill down my spine, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
“What—” I start, my voice barely above a whisper, but the sound of heavy metal slamming has my mouth snapping shut.
