We reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. Gavriel pushed it open, shoving me inside before following and slamming the door behind us. I’d hardly had a chance to look around the office before he was in motion. He kissed me quickly then pulled away.
"You stupid bitch," he snarled, loud enough for anyone listening to hear. "What were you thinking?"
I matched his volume. "Fuck you, Gavriel! You know what your father and that monster were planning for her! How could you allow that fate for your own sister?"
He crossed the room in two strides, his hand connecting with the wall beside my head hard enough to make me flinch. His body caged mine against the wall, his face inches from mine.
"Are you wearing it? Just in case things go south?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
I nodded minutely. The tracker was sewn into the lining of my bra, transmitting our location to Harley and his team.
Gavriel kissed my neck softly before he stepped back, raising his voice again. "Start talking, Elin. Where is she? Where is my fucking sister?"
He snipped through the plastic zip tie; it fell away, and a rush of warmth flooded back into my fingertips. Pins and needles followed in a slow bloom, prickling beneath the skin as I flexed my hands, testing the ache at my wrists where the tie had bitten in. The air felt cooler suddenly, as if the whole room sighed, and I curled my fingers, feeling the throb of returning blood.
I gave him a nod that I was okay and gestured for him to move out of the way before I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it against the wall with a satisfying crash. Gavriel unsheathed his blade, drawing it across his palm without flinching. His warm blood smeared my cheekbone as he cupped my face. I extended my wrist toward him. "The back of my hand," I said. His eyes darkened with reluctance. "Don't look at me like that," I whispered. "If I walk out of here unmarked, we're both dead."
“Fine.” The slice was clean and deep enough for blood to flow without needing stitches or causing too much damage. “I’m sorry. We’ll get you patched up as soon as we can.”
I sucked in a breath as Gavriel dropped to his knees right in front of me, no hesitation at all, and ran a wickedly sharp blade along my thigh, slicing my jeans open. My pulse jumped. The denim peeled away, rough edges brushing against my skin as he exposed the length of my leg. He didn’t even look up at me, just kept working on the fabric until it parted, wide and raw. He pressed my bleeding hand against the exposed skin, letting crimson trails trickle down my leg—just enough evidence of torture to be convincing. I threw my head back and screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed off the walls, as though he were carving into my flesh rather than staging our deception.
“I love you, Elin.” His kiss was fast before he started screaming again. “She’s my fucking sister. Tell me where she is or what I’ve done to you will be the least of your worries.”
Our staged argument continued for several minutes, growing louder and more heated until the door burst open. Two of Ezequiel's guards were there, with Harley standing just behind them.
"Don Azzaro wants to see you both. Now."
Gavriel straightened his jacket, shooting me a venomous glare that contained a hidden message:It's time.
The guards escorted us through the mansion's winding corridors, past priceless artwork and antique furniture that had no doubt been purchased with blood money. I counted doors, memorized turns, building a mental map for our escape.
As we approached Ezequiel's private study, I noticed the guards exchanging glances. The taller one, a man with a scar running down his cheek, gave Gavriel an almost imperceptible nod. Then, just before we reached the doors, the scarred guard pressed a pistol into my hand, the weight of the weapon familiar and comforting in my palm.
"For Rhea," the guard whispered, stepping back. My gaze flicked to the other guard, who gave a quick nod before I gave them both a small, thankful smile. “She deserves happiness.”
I mouthed a, “Thank you,” as I met Gavriel’s gaze.
Gavriel holstered his gun as I held mine at the small of my back, so as not to give away that I had been cut loose. My finger sat on the trigger as I waited for my opportunity.
The doors to the study swung open, revealing Ezequiel seated in front of an enormous desk, Juarez standing by the fireplace with a glass of scotch in his hand. Both men looked up as we entered, their expressions hardening when they saw us.
"Have you gotten anything useful out of her?" Ezequiel demanded.
Gavriel shook his head. "She's stubborn."
"Then perhaps more persuasive methods are required," Juarez suggested, setting down his glass and moving toward me with predatory intent.
In one fluid motion, Gavriel drew his gun and fired. The bullet caught Juarez between the eyes, his expression frozen in surprise as he crumpled to the floor.
Ezequiel lunged for a drawer just out of reach, but I fired a shot that hit the back of the leather chair behind the desk, causing it to spin slightly toward him. He froze, head snapping in my direction, and I smirked, already having my weapon trained on him. "Don't," I warned, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
"You," he spat with murder in his eyes. "How dare you!"
"Did you really think I wouldn’t come for the man who killed my father?” I growled, stepping closer, my gun unwavering.
A bitter smile spread across his face. "You think I'm afraid of you little girl? This isn't the first time I've had a gun pointed at me. It won't be the last time I walk away, either."
I laughed. Not the brittle giggle of a girl in over her head, but a sound scraped up from the shadows of my grief.
