“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, watching as one of the guys checked Drew for guns and pulled out a couple of Glocks he always carried on him.
“Was it worth it? They’re going to kill you both. They’ll make him watch as they torture you first.”
I was beginning to understand how Rubin was able to shoot the man with such detached precision. If I’d had a gun on me, I would have done the same. For someone with a hole in hisshoulder, he talked a lot of shit, seemingly ignorant to the fact that Travis would shoot him with just as much ease as he would shot any one of us.
“You know—”
The mayor didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before there was a butt of a gun knocking against the glass of his door. The guy at the other end of the gun shook his head. With the brief reprieve from the narrative from the back, I turned my head to find Drew again.
His eyes were wide, staring right at me until one of the Navs pulled his arms behind him, held them together, and pushed Drew forward with a hard shove at his back. A second later, my door was opened by a rough looking man who had to be in his late forties, at least. His beard was wiry and wild, all the different shades of it covered in dirt like he hadn’t washed for months.
“Time to join the party, blondie,” he said roughly. “Get up. Make it quick.”
I dropped my cell phone between the seat and the center console, hoping to God that if they took Drew’s phone and shut it down, The Hounds could at least follow mine. I slipped from the car, my eyes scanning the building again as the guy gripped the top of my arm roughly.
He started leading me forward, and I played the scared woman part as best as I could, stumbling over my own feet as he forced me up the couple of steps to the front of the building. With a quick glance at the car over my shoulder, the mantra in my head started playing again and again, only louder this time. Loud enough that I couldn’t ignore it now.
This can’t be the end.
