Page 86 of Spock’s Snare

Then the frame jerks upward with a muted scrape. The sounds freeze me in place. I don’t move again until I verify the silence remains. Then, I lift the window slowly until the opening is wide enough for me to crawl through. Cool air brushes my face, carrying the scents of damp earth and overgrown grass.

A screen still blocks my way.

I find two small tabs near the bottom. My injured fingers fumble with them, but I manage to pull the screen inward. The metal frame catches on the window track, threatening to clatter against the sill. So, I grab it with both hands, ignoring the jab of the glass in my palm. There is no way I’m dropping my only weapon.

I angle the screen sideways and ease it into the room. Once it’s clear, I lower it onto the carpet while holding my breath. I pause to listen for sounds coming from inside or out. With a shaky exhale, I close my eyes at the sound of silence.

Girding myself, I hoist my body up and over the sill. My stomach screams in protest, but I swallow the cry.

The drop isn’t far, but in my condition it might as well be ten feet.

I twist sideways, lower my leg, and grip the sill as I ease myself out. The window scrapes against my back. But when my feet find the ground, I release my hold, causing my knees to fold beneath me.

I catch myself before I fall, sliding into a crouch beneath the window. Pain tears through my abdomen, but I remain silent.

For the first time since I woke tied to that bed, I’m outside.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: SPOCK

The elevator doors slide shut, sealing Rush, Hawk, and me inside a steel box that feels too fucking small.

I stab the button for Blackwood’s floor even though Rush has already pressed it. The circle glows beneath my finger. Nothing happens fast enough.

“Come on,” I growl.

The elevator begins to rise with a low mechanical hum. Each illuminated number marks another second Chloe is alone with that bastard.

My skin feels too tight. My heart pounds so hard it hurts, but I can’t pull in a full breath. Every possibility tears through my head at once, each one worse than the last.

Blackwood could have taken her anywhere.

Las Vegas is surrounded by miles of empty desert. There are abandoned buildings, storage units, cheap motels, construction sites, rental properties—thousands of places where a man could hide a woman without anyone hearing her scream.

I curl my hands into fists.

Wildcard and Dice stayed in the lobby. Wildcard is calling Spark, having him tear apart Blackwood’s life again. Property records. Rentals. Family holdings. Work sites. Anywhere Blackwood owns or could access without drawing attention.

But that search will take time. Time that Chloe doesn’t have.

A horrifying image flashes through my mind—Chloe tied up and helpless while Blackwood stands over her. I see fear in her eyes. Bruises on her skin. Blood. The image makes my stomach twist.

I slam the heel of my hand against the elevator wall.

“Fuck!”

“Spock.” Rush’s voice is calm, but it carries the sharp edge of a command. “We’ll find her, but you have to get your shit under control.”

“He could be doing anything to her right now.”

The words scrape out of my throat. Saying them aloud makes every nightmare feel more real.

Rush steps closer. He doesn’t touch me, probably because he knows I’m wound too tight to tolerate it. “And tearing yourself apart in this elevator won’t help her.”

“There are too many places to search.” My voice cracks beneath the pressure building inside me. “He could have driven in any direction. He could have dumped her in the fucking desert. He could have—”

“Don’t.” Hawk’s warning cuts across the elevator. “Don’t finish that thought.”

I turn my glare on him.