Chair scraped. Keys already in my hand. Coat forgotten.
Hades stepped into my path. "Gideon?—"
I shoved past him.
"Wait, what the hell—" Scar started.
"Move."
James stumbled upright, swaying. "What happened?"
I didn't answer. Didn't slow.
Gang Lu appeared at the door, blocking it with that silent, immovable presence of his.
Our eyes met.
He saw it. Whatever lived behind my calm exterior—the thing I kept leashed, buried, controlled—was clawing its way out. He stepped aside without a word.
I hit the hallway at a sprint.
Behind me, chaos erupted. Voices shouting. Footsteps thundering.
Jafar: "Who was on the phone?"
Hades: "Someone at Belle's store?—"
Scar: "Oh, fuck."
James, louder than the rest: "Go! Go, go, GO!"
I didn't hear anything after that.
The world narrowed to three things: Belle's voice, terrified and cut off. The drive to the bookstore. The men who'd just made the worst mistake of their pathetic lives.
My hands shook on the steering wheel—not from fear. From rage. Pure, distilled, homicidal rage.
I'd told her to stay with me. To let me protect her. And she'd gone, anyway. Stubborn. Reckless.
If they touched her…
If they hurt her…
I'd kill them.
Slowly.
The tires screamed as I peeled out of the parking garage.
Behind me, engines roared to life.
The pack was coming.
But I'd get there first.
The tires hadn't even stopped screaming before I was out of the car.
The black sedan was gone. Empty curb. Oil stain where it had been parked for hours.
