Everything went quiet, like there was cotton in my ears. The world slowed as I stared at Nolan’s body on the floor.
I couldn’t move.
August shook my shoulder, and the world snapped back into focus. Heat from the fire surging singed my back.
We needed to move.
But even as my brothers and I raced along the factory floor toward the catwalk, I couldn’t help looking behind at Nolan’s body. A torrent of grief surged inside my soul, but I couldn’t yield to it.
Palmer needed me.
46
Palmer
Thepressurebehindmyeyes was almost unbearable, but I refused to let the tears go. I could not let Amos Anderson see me cry.
I desperately wanted to, though. The smell of smoke hung in the air, and I knew that Roman was here. The monster in front of me was trying to burn him alive.
Amos stood beside me, the tip of his knife lingering near my throat to keep me quiet and placid. Inside, though, flames raged hotter and brighter than the ones he’d orchestrated.
He stared at his phone screen, something he’d been doing since he let the brothers enter the factory. He’d barely paid me any mind since they’d come, intent on his prey through the camera feeds on his phone.
I laid there helplessly, unable to move or struggle. I stared at the knife pointed at me, within my grasp if I could only reach for it. Amos held it loose, his attention elsewhere, obviously not seeing me as a threat. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. If he hadn’t tied my wrists to my ankles, I might have had a chance to knock it out of his hands.
A cough escaped me, some of the smoke reaching us even all the way up here.
Anderson’s eyes cut to me at the sudden sound, and I went still; my heart ricocheted off my sternum. He hadn’t touched or hurt me yet, but it was there whenever he looked at me: a lust for blood and death looming like a storm cloud.
This man would kill me. I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it already, but once the threat of the Ramsey brothers was gone, he would do it.
Vomit burned at the back of my throat.
Roman.
I couldn’t let anything happen to him. This couldn’t be how things ended.
Anderson’s gaze went back to his phone and something shifted in his expression. A flash of excitement lit up his face. The knife he had pointed at me dropped a little more, his grip laxing in his distracted state as he leaned close to the screen.
I shifted, a movement so minute I’d hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He didn’t seem to.
I thought—maybe, if I used my head or body to collide into him, I could get him to drop the knife. But then what? I wouldn’t know how to grab it after he dropped it, not with my wrists tied down. I ran through different ways I might be able to get the knife and cut myself free, but every idea seemed so improbable. But maybe a long shot was all that I had.
I tilted closer to the edge of the desk, readying myself to dosomething, when suddenly an earsplitting pop cracked through the building.
The world fell out from under me at the sound.
A gunshot.
Panicked, I looked at Anderson, and he smiled.Smiled.
My entire body went cold. My ears rang. I couldn’t stop imagining Roman—my sweet, grumpy fire chief—bleeding. Hurt.
Without thinking, I gathered all my strength. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, and then I sprung. Using my hands and knees, I shoved myself as hard as I could into Amos’s side. He grunted as I collided into him, and we both tumbled to the filthy floor. My temple cracked against the hard ground, blurring my vision, but I stayed coherent enough to focus on my task. I searched frantically for the knife.
Amos was already moving, too; adrenaline surged fresh and hot through my veins. I didn’t have much movement—not with the ropes still constricting me—but I didn’t have to reach far. I caught a glimpse of the blade mere inches from my fingertips. I didn’t stop to think, didn’t give myself a second for relief or victory. My fingers wrapped around the handle just as Amos rolled back toward me, cursing viciously.
