Draven stepped up. His voice was more level than mine. “We can’t rush in blind. Let’s be smart about this. We got the drone with us. Let’s use it to look through the windows, see where they’re at inside the house, then we can make a move without putting her at risk. If we locate Aviana before going in, we have a better shot at getting her out alive—and tearing Fury apart after.”
“All right,” I said through clenched teeth. “Let’s send the drone in and see what we’re dealing with. But the second we spot them, it’s game on.”
AVIANA SCOTT
I was tied to a damn chair in some old, cold basement that looked like it hadn’t seen daylight in years. The air was damp, and I could feel the chill in my bones. My hands and feet were bound tight. The duct tape cut into my skin, and my mouth was still covered. I was breathing heavily through my nose, trying to catch my breath.
I could hear the idiots who took me. They were upstairs arguing. They didn’t have a clue what they were doing. As I listened closely, every word made my stomach turn. One of them was pissed. He kept talking about how Mythic wouldn’t distribute weapons to him, and because of that, his woman got killed. Now, he wanted revenge—an eye for an eye. He wanted to kill me.
The other wanted to use me as ransom, thinking they could trade me for the artillery they were after. I could hear the frustration in his voice, though, like he knew it wouldn’t work. “Even if we get the weapons from Mythic, we’ll still be at war withhim,” he said, sounding like he finally realized just how deep they were in. “This was a bad idea. I told y’all this was stupid! He’s got too much firepower for us to survive this.”
“Then we gotta kill him,” the first one shot back, and my heart dropped.
“Y’all chill,” another voice said. “We made sure that nobody saw us snatch her, so we got time to figure this shit out.”
I realized then that I wasn’t making it out of this alive. They were reckless, thinking with emotions instead of sense. One wanted revenge, the other wanted artillery, and neither of them had the brains to see this whole thing was a suicide mission. And I was stuck in the middle.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. I had come to terms with it. I was going to die down here. My body trembled as I tried to block out the panic creeping in. I started praying, begging God to spare me.
Lord, please…don’t let this be how it ends. Please spare my and Mythic’s lives.
The truth about Mythic—about who he really was—hit me. The conversation I overheard let me finally know what he did in the streets. He was an illegal arms dealer. But as I sat there, helpless, I prayed anyway.
God, I know what he is doing is wrong, but You had to put him in my life for a reason. Forgive me for loving a man like him, but please… don’t take him from me. I trust You wouldn’t have brought him into my life unless he was a good man.
As I prayed, a loud blast shook the house. Gunshots rang out like explosions above me. My heart stopped, then started pounding again—pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I began breathing faster, panting with fear. It sounded like a war zone, like a straight-up battlefield both outside and inside thehouse. Windows shattered repeatedly. The shots kept coming one after the other, some sounding closer, some farther away.
I heard grunts, yells, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the floor. My body jerked in the chair, buckling and pulling at the restraints, trying to get free, but I couldn’t. The duct tape was too tight, cutting into my wrists. No matter how hard I struggled, I wasn’t moving.
Tears welled up in my eyes as the chaos raged on around me. I kept praying, kept asking for mercy, even though I couldn’t see how I was getting out of this alive. The sounds of the fight upstairs were getting closer, and all I could do was sit there helpless, trapped, and terrified.
The noises upstairs grew louder, almost deafening, like someone had kicked open the basement door. I froze. My breath caught in my throat. Then I heard footsteps, loud and fast, pounding down the old wooden stairs. My heart dropped.
One of the abductors burst into the room, wild-eyed, frantic, and his face drenched in sweat. His shoulder was bleeding. There was a dark stain spreading across his shirt where he’d been shot. He looked like a man on the edge and desperate.
Without a word, he stormed over to me, his breathing ragged. He ripped the duct tape from my mouth so fast I winced, and the sting made my eyes water.
I barely had time to react before I felt the cold steel of a gun pressed against my head. “I want him to hear you. I want Mythic to hear you scream and beg for your life while I kill you.”
I could feel his breath on my face, smell the mix of sweat and blood coming off him, but I wasn’t about to cower. I wasn’t giving him that. My heart was pounding, but my anger was louder. Without thinking, I spat right in his face. My eyes locked on his with all the fury I had in me.
His expression shifted with pure rage. Before I could brace myself, his hand came down across my face, the force of the slap knocking my head to the side. Pain shot through me, and I tasted blood in my mouth.
The room spun for a second, and my cheek throbbed. I bit down, trying to swallow the fear. Even as blood filled my mouth, I stared him down, refusing to let him see an ounce of fear.
Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, a gunshot exploded nearby. The sound was blaring. I braced myself for the pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for the worst. But when nothing happened—no pain, no burn from the bullet—I opened my eyes.
He stood there, frozen. His eyes were wide with shock. A gaping hole was in the center of his chest, blood pouring out, staining his shirt even more. He dropped to his knees, collapsing forward into my lap. I screamed and wiggled my legs frantically, trying to get him off me. I could feel his blood on my face and seeping through my clothes.
His body hit the floor with a thud, and I gasped for air, relief and fear battling inside me.
I looked up, heart pounding, and saw the basement window shattered. There was a jagged hole right where the shot must’ve come from. Everything upstairs had gone quiet. The gunshots and chaos had all stopped. All I could hear now were heavy, deliberate footsteps coming down the basement stairs again.
I held my breath, unsure of what was about to happen. But then, I saw Mythic. His tall, strong figure rushed toward me, and the moment I saw his face, I knew I was safe.
He was at my side in an instant. He ripped the duct tape from my wrists and ankles with a speed and focus I’d never seen before.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered emotionally. His eyes were glistening, and I could see the regret he was holding back.
