The world tilts sideways. Pain explodes through my face, sharp and bright and all-consuming. My knees buckle.
Arms catch me before I hit the ground. Everything is spinning. The alley. The van. The men's faces swimming in and out of focus.
"Stupid bitch," someone mutters.
They're carrying me now. My feet drag across concrete. I try to lift my head but it weighs a thousand pounds.
The van door opens. Dark interior. Chemical smell that makes my stomach roll.
"Get her in."
Hands push me forward. I hit the floor hard. Metal ridges dig into my cheek. My vision blurs at the edges, going grey and fuzzy.
"Drive. Now."
The door slams shut. Engine roars to life.
I try to push myself up. My arms won't work right. Everything feels disconnected. Wrong.
"She's bleeding."
"Doesn't matter. Boss wants her alive, not pretty."
Alive.
The word echoes in my head as darkness creeps in from all sides.
Dmitri's face flashes behind my eyes. That terrible helpless look. The way he stood there, gun raised, unable to do anything but watch them take me.
I should have listened.
Should have stayed down.
Should have?—
The van hits a bump. My head bounces against the floor.
Then nothing.
Dmitri
The door doesn't move.
I slam my shoulder into it. Once. Twice. The metal doesn't even shudder. They've barricaded it from the outside. Blockedit with something heavy while I stood here like a fucking statue and watched them take her.
Bodies litter the floor behind me. Some moving. Most not. The shooting has stopped. Silence rings in my ears, broken only by groans and someone crying.
I don't care.
I spin away from the blocked exit and run. Through the carnage. Over bodies. Around overturned tables. My shoes slip in blood but I don't slow down.
The main entrance. I need the main entrance.
Someone grabs my arm. I shake them off without looking.
"Dmitri—"
I keep moving. Past the stage where I put that ring on her finger twenty minutes ago. Past the bar where bottles lie scattered on the floor. Past my father's associates who are picking themselves up, checking for wounds, calling for help.
