And Chase Harrington is glued to her hip like the parasite he is, his hand resting possessively at her hip.
I want to rip his arm off for touching her. Just a clean break.
One glimpse of her and I’m not a man, I’m an exposed nerve screaming toward the source of its pain. My fist closes before I know I’ve moved, and nails bite my palm. I might be bleeding, but fuck it.
My vision tunnels, breath stalls.
Talon brushes against my arm. “Dredyn?—”
I barely hear him. I barely hear anything except the internal snap of every restraint I’ve had for a month.
She’s here.
The chandelier glints off her shoulder and the entire room tilts. My hand shoots to the railing behind me, knuckles white. If I don’t hold on, I’ll move. I’ll charge. I’ll carve a path straight through Syndicate masks to get to her.
Heat floods my veins.
Every inch of me vibrates with the urge to destroy.
If Jasper and Talon weren’t here, I’d already be halfway across the floor, carving a path through anyone stupid enough to breathe in my direction.
Hold on, Hellcat, I’m coming, and I’ll burn this place to ash to reach you.
EIGHT
TALON
She’s here. Spun in silk and surrounded by sharks.
She doesn’t see me yet, and that’s probably the only thing keeping me from sprinting across the room to her.
Because she’s radiant, yes—gorgeous and lethally composed—but I know the cracks under her perfect posture. I know the hatred she has boiling deep inside her for the institution.
And it wrecks me.
I hate the fact that looking at her feels like relief and punishment in the same breath.
I hate that I’m already imagining how she’d fall apart in my hands after a month without us.
My fists tighten at my sides, and a pulse ticks in my chest as Chase Harrington’s hand slides across her lower back. He shouldn’t be touching her. Not like that. Not with that entitlement. If he digs his fingers into her one more inch, I’ll put him through the nearest wall and worry about the consequences later.
I should be thinking strategy—escape routes, crowd patterns, the exact second Beck plans to trigger the lights. But my vision narrows to the way her breath catches when Chase leans in tooclose. To the way her lips press into a polite smile that tastes like self-betrayal.
She’s surviving. She’s enduring. But I want to be the one she runs to when the mask cracks.
I want to be the one she hates for wanting her. I want to be the one she breaks for.
God, I’m a fucking mess.
I want her to know we’re here, that we’re not leaving without her. That she’s not alone in this glittering hell. But there’s no signal strong enough to bridge this distance, yet. No word sharp enough to reach her through the fog.
We have a plan.
And the plan has to work.
My eyes go to scan for Beck, who should be ready for my command, but I can’t find him. And that’s when Dredyn surges forward, away from Jasper and I. I knew this was coming—Dre’s held himself together with duct tape and raw hatred all night. But one glimpse of her and the leash snapped.
His mouth is open to roar, but I’m there instantly, planting a hand on his shoulder and yanking. “No!” I hiss.
