His nostrils flared, and she didn't know what he was scenting, but whatever it was seemed to enrage him further.
How long had it been since he grabbed her? Not even long enough for her to struggle to draw in air yet, although that was coming within the next couple of seconds. Whitney wanted to embrace that darkness, find it and cling to it, and refuse to let them drag her back.
Whatever lay beyond this life had to be better than the one she’d been living.
“What the hell?” Blade bellowed from beside them, and Whitney assumed he was yelling at her for some reason.
After all, why would he be yelling at his friend and teammate?
He’d brought her here, he’d lied to her, said that his team believed him, and since someone else had corroborated her story, she knew that Blade now believed her. He had to have known one of his friends would pounce on her the second she got out of the car.
Didn't even make it out of the car before Dragon had her.
Then all of a sudden, Dragon was … gone.
Blade’s body must have collided with the other man because now they were both on the ground, wrestling, swinging fists at one another, fighting.
Fighting?
Why?
Over her?
Legs shaking too badly to hold her up any longer, Whitney sank to the ground, pressing her back against the side of the car, and pulling her knees to her chest, attempting to make herself as small a target as possible. She had no idea what was going on, but her heart hammered so hard in her chest it hurt.
Other people spilled out the front door, walking toward them, shouts and exclamations filling the air, but she was havinga hard time differentiating the words. They all melded into one, and really, it didn't matter what they were saying anyway.
Maybe Blade had been led into a trap, too, maybe the others didn't believe him. Maybe they were going to kill him, too.
All because of her.
People always died because of her.
Someone was close to her, she didn't know who, didn't care, but she kept her gaze locked on the two fighting men as she called out, “Please don’t hurt him.”
They wouldn't listen, but she had to try. Blade had saved her life, and now he was going to lose his, and it was all her fault.
“Steel, break them up, they’re being ridiculous,” a female voice called out.
There was a woman here?
She hadn't known that. Blade might have asked her questions about herself, encouraged her to talk on their journey here, but he’d been tight-lipped about his team and what she’d find when she got there.
“They’re fine, they’re just fighting for the honor of their women,” a voice—she assumed Steel’s—replied.
Only that made no sense. Fighting for the honor of their women? She didn't know who Dragon’s supposed woman was, and she didn't know if Blade had a wife or girlfriend, but she did know he wasn't fighting for her.
Or was he?
“I can't believe three of you have now fallen,” someone else muttered.
She didn't care about who had fallen for whom, all she cared about was that Dragon was going to kill Blade, and it was all because of her. Why did death always follow her wherever she went?
“Please,” she whispered, her voice ragged, the word felt like it was being torn from her aching throat.
“Stop them, Steel, they’re scaring her,” the woman said again.
Steel must have been the one who sighed, because she saw another man approach the wrestling pair right as someone else knelt in front of her. Close enough to touch her, but thankfully, they refrained. Right now, she was wound so tight that the smallest thing, the smallest touch, might cause her to snap.
