Guilt hollows my chest. Makes it practically impossible to breathe.
I can’t succumb to it. Can’t let myself be consumed by anything other than saving Elowyn.
“You still care about him? Pathetic.” Barclay barks a laugh.
“Barclay,” another man says. His voice sounds farther from the door. Just one man. Where’s the other one?
“Don’t youBarclayme, Jayden. You signed up for this,” Barclay growls. “As for you, Sis. If he doesn’t show, I’ll find that new-money douchebag and his dog. Will kill them myself. Don’t even need these cowards here.”His friends.“When there’s a will, there’s a way.”
I clear my head and press my ear to the door to hear what’s going on inside. One last time, just to be sure.
“I hate you, Barclay!” Elowyn’s voice is shrill, clear. Telling me exactly where she is.
Deeper inside and away from her brother.
Thank fuck.
I throw my shoulder into the door and break into the warehouse in a single hit.
The door slams against the wall with a metallic shriek.
“Duncan!” Elowyn gasps.
I don’t spare a glance her way.
It pains me to scan the room for threats, but I have no other choice. Both our lives depend on my being vigilant.
Barclay’s pale blue eyes squint, a repulsive snarl twisting his features as he looks over his shoulder.
Jayden is a mountain of a man, just like I remembered him. My brow furrows to find him cowering against the wall in the back, running his hand through his short hair. He seems almost…remorseful. Fuck him and fuck his guilty conscience.
Last is Victor. The conniving bastard has his hands half-lifted in a useless gesture of surrender.
I don’t make any sudden moves that might set either of them off. I don’t dare lift my gun.
Not before I look at her.
My senses stay trained on the threats as I cut my eyes to Elowyn. She’s bound to a chair beside where Victor stands.
But that’s not what has me growling with rage.
My finger curls tighter around the trigger because she’s hurt.
The gash on her cheek is split open and bleeding.
There’s a red streak reaching as low as her chin. One infuriating drop trickles into the soaked collar of her sweater.
A bruise is already blooming under her skin, dark and infuriating.
I need to find out which one of them did it. Or if they all took turns punching a woman half their size. My woman.
There’s no blood on Jayden’s hands.
Victor’s knuckles are swollen, and Barclay’s look worse. And the dried blood staining his watch…
A flood of hate and searing madness punches at my ribs. My temples throb. The room becomes as red as the blood on Elowyn’s cheek.
“You’re going to die for this,” I say through clenched teeth. “All. Of. You.”
