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I rolled onto my stomach and pushed up to my knees, ignoring the pain in my side as I crawled to the driver’s door. I yanked it open with a grunt, falling back onto my ass when the guy’s arm startled me by dropping. For a second I thought maybe he wasn’t dead, but no. He was very clearly dead, and if my screwdriver hadn’t done it, the crash alone would’ve been enough. He apparently didn’t have working airbags, and now his face was a pulverized mess on the steering wheel.

Ugh.

I gagged, then turned my head and threw up. Fuck. What the fuck had he drugged me with? I tried not to let the panic set in, but god, I had never felt so disgusted and disgusting and what if one shot was enough to get me addicted⁠—

I slapped myself across the face.

This wasn’t the time to let that particular fear take hold. It wasn’t my fault. Whatever it was, it would eventually leave my system and I would be fine.

I would be fine.

As long as I had Court, I’d be okay.

I still had him, right? What if he didn’t care? What if he’d orchestrated this?

No, no fucking way. I’d hit my head too hard.

My lip lifted in revulsion as I glared at the man, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

I would kill him again if I could.

Only Court was allowed to kidnap me and get out of it alive. Fuck this piece of shit.

But wait, he had a phone, didn’t he?

I searched his pockets, finding his phone in the front right one. I had to wipe blood off my fingers so I could use the touch screen, and when a lock screen popped up, I grabbed the man’s hand and pressed his thumb onto the screen.

It unlocked.

With shaking fingers, I dialed Court’s number. I was grateful he’d given me that phone, otherwise I’d never have seen his number and would have no way to contact him right now. He picked up halfway through the first ring.

“Who the fuck⁠—”

“It’s me,” I breathed. Relief at hearing his voice again nearly brought me to my knees. “Someone took me, I swear I didn’t leave you⁠—”

“I know, baby, I know. Fuck, thank fucking Christ—did he hurt you?”

“Court, I think this guy’s working for Thorne⁠—”

“I know,” he growled. “He’s a fucking rat from the Sainted’s rivals, but he’s working on his own right now. Where is he? Did he hurt you? I’m gonna⁠—”

“He’s dead,” I said, glancing at the unmoving body. “I killed him. He didn’t hurt me.”

Much.

The low laugh that came through the phone crackled through my body, and his next words sent pleasure dancing through me. “Of course you did. That’s my fucking girl. Where are you? I’m coming, Whitney, I promise you⁠—”

“I’m…I think I’m at Thorne’s? I’m pretty sure that’s where he said he was taking me.”

Court had shown me pictures of Thorne’s estate, and, as usual, every image had been filed away for eternity in my brain. Once I got to the road, I’d be able to find my way there.

“Where on the estate are you?”

“I’m on the—well, off the road, but yeah, the road leading up to it.”

“We just blew up his store in Marion,” Court said, and my jaw dropped open.

“What? What the fuck?”