Rowan’s voice rises again. “Sin!”
I lunge toward her sound and catch her arm. For half a second, I have her. Then a shock hits my neck. Taser. Electric fire rips through my nerves. My body locks. My teeth clench so hard I taste blood. I drop to one knee, still gripping Rowan’s wrist, refusing to let go.
Rowan’s fingers squeeze mine. “Sin, please!”
I force my hand to hold. Another jolt. My muscles seize again. My grip breaks. Rowan’s yanked away into the smoke.
“No,” I rasp, voice shredded. I push up, stumbling, trying to breathe, trying to see. I catch a glimpse through the thinning white.
Rowan’s hair is a dark ribbon as she fights, kicking, clawing at a man’s arm. She’s brave, even now. Then something presses over her mouth. Her eyes meet mine. Wide. Furious. Terrified. And then she’s gone, dragged through the side corridor toward the loading area.
The corporate man’s voice floats through the haze, calm as a banker. “She comes with us. You can keep the building.”
Randy’s voice breaks. “Don’t hurt her!”
A laugh. “That depends on her.”
I stagger forward, vision pulsing, lungs burning. I shove through desks, through smoke, toward the loading door. The back exit bursts open. Cold night air hits my face, sharp and clean. Headlights flare in the lot. A van. The side door’s open. Rowan’s shoved inside.
She twists, fighting, and I see her hand reach out, searching. For me.
I sprint as fast as I can. Pain lances through my ribs with every step. My body is still shaking from the taser. I don’t care. I reach the van just as the door starts to slide shut. I grab the edge. A man inside swings at me with a baton. It cracks across my forearm. I barely feel it. I shove the door back, half inside the vehicle now.
Rowan’s eyes lock on mine.
Then a boot slams into my chest. Hard. I fly backward, hit the pavement, breath blasting out of me.
The van door slams shut. The engine roars. Tires spit gravel. And the van peels out of the lot, disappearing into the dark like it was never there.
I push up onto my hands, gasping, rage turning my blood hot.
Rowan’s gone.
And I have exactly one thought, sharp enough to cut. They just made this personal.
FOURTEEN
ROWAN
The first thing I taste is panic. It’s metallic, sharp, like I bit my tongue and swallowed fear instead of blood. My lungs burn from the gas. My wrists ache from the way they yanked me. My heart slams so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
The van smells like rubber mats and chemical clean. A harsh disinfectant that doesn’t hide the underlying stink of sweat and old fuel. The interior lights are off, but the city glow flickers through the small rear windows as we tear away from the newspaper building.
I twist, straining against the grip around my upper arms. My mouth opens on a scream, but a hand clamps over it again, hard enough to press my cheeks into my teeth.
“Quiet,” a man growls near my ear.
I bite him.
He jerks back with a curse and smacks the side of my head. Pain flashes bright, stars exploding behind my eyes. My breath comes in ragged pulls. I fight anyway, because my body refusesto accept what’s happening. Then the image hits me, sharp as glass. Sin on the floor. His hand losing mine. The way his eyes looked when they dragged me away. I turn, trying to see through the darkness, trying to find him even though I know I can’t.
Did they hurt him?
Did they tase him again?
Did they take him too?
My chest tightens so hard it feels like something is breaking inside. “Sin,” I rasp, voice scraped raw.
