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Fear.

For me.

He waited until I stopped struggling, then pulled me into a small service room off the corridor and kicked the door shut behind us.

Only then did he remove his hand from my mouth.

I spun on him.

“They’re killing him.”

“No. Just working him over.”

“You said you would keep them from—”

“I said I would do what I could.”

“He’s screaming.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep listening to it.”

Rafael reached for the bottles.

I pulled them away.

“Don’t.”

“Give them to me, Isabella.”

“I can get the guards out of the cellar. If there’s enough smoke, everyone will have to move. I can get to him.”

His brows lifted as the pieces came together. “Or they lock down the lower level.”

I stared at him.

“They could seal the cellar instead of abandoning it,” he continued. “Someone could find the hidden passage while trying to contain the fire.”

“I don’t care about the house.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then let me go.”

His expression hardened.

“And if the fire reaches the cellar before you can get him out?”

I said nothing.

Rafael stepped closer.

The fury inside me faltered.

He took one bottle from my hand.

Then the other.