His body slams into mine, pinning me against the door. For one disorienting moment, we’re pressed together, his breath hot on my face, his dark eyes boring into mine.
“Forget everything, and I’ll let you walk away,” he murmurs. “I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll never have to put on a uniform again.”
“I like my uniform,” I lie.
He presses his forearm to my throat. “Everyone’s for sale.”
“Not me.”
Rooke shows me his teeth. “Name your price, Fox.”
“The three of you.” I pause—not to be dramatic, but because Rooke’s forearm is turning breathing into hard labor. “With me.” Another haggard breath. “In that cruiser. Down to the station.”
“Christ,” Rooke mutters, his gaze dropping to my mouth like he can’t decide if he wants to kiss me or knock out my teeth.
Instead, he rams his knee between my legs.
I go down with a mortal groan as pain obliterates my vision, my balance, and my fucking pride.
Rooke crouches at my side, grabs my shoulder, and hauls me onto my back.
“Ten million,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I grit out.
“Christ,” he says again. “Ten million not enough for you?”
“You know what I want, Bastian?” I struggle to sit up, but he grabs my throat and pushes me down again. “I want to see bad people get punished. I want to see the families of the people they hurt get closure. I want the world to be a safe, happy fuckingplace for everyone…and the only way that’s going to happen is if people like you are behind bars.”
Rooke’s eyes stay fixed on mine through my entire breathless monologue. He shakes his head, glancing across the room at Kai and Haven before looking back at me.
“We can’t all have what we want, Fox,” he says.
He slams his fist into my temple.
Stars. More pain. The world tilts under me like I’m on the deck of a ship.
My radio is still crackling, but it sounds far away, like someone’s dropped it underwater.
“Kai.” Rooke’s calm voice drifts in from all directions. “Help me move the body.”
My head is swimming, thoughts muddled with memories, all slowly being swallowed by the numbness creeping up my limbs.
Wait…what body?
Mybody?
A silhouette appears. It might be Kai.
I try to fight.
Try to swing, to kick, to do something other than lie there like a nearly-dead thing.
But my limbs won’t cooperate, and the darkness is rushing in from the edges, white-hot and icy at the same time.
Hands grab my ankles. More slide in under my armpits.
A third figure materializes from the dark.
