Page 51

“Owen,” I whimper, digging the device out of my pocket and handing it to him. “Please just stop for a second. Let’s talk.”

I have no idea what else to say to him, and it feels like I’m sitting next to a bomb that can detonate at any second and kill me.

I watch as he rolls the window down and tosses it out onto the street. He does the same with his phone and the gun. “There’s no time to talk.” His tone is a low growl that makes every nerve ending in my body go on high alert.

It’s probably akin to the same feeling you’ll get when facing off with a bear or a lion. The one when you know you’re screwed and about to become an animal’s lunch.

Somehow it sinks in that he’s unarmed, and I dare to ask, “Your real name is Rowan?”

He nods.

Nervously, I lick my lips. “A-a-and your last name?”

“Teller.”

I’m only partially aware of the tear escaping and rolling down my cheek, my voice is small and shaky as I whimper, “Why did you kill those men?”

“They’re Bratva.”

Not knowing what the word means, I shake my head. “What’s that?”

“Russian mafia.”

Shit.

I’m hit with another crippling wave of shock and terror, which you can hear in my quivering voice. “Are . . . are you in t-t-the Bratva?”

“Enough, Annie,” he says, his tone firm. Suddenly, he pulls the truck over to the sidewalk and says, “Get out.”

Is he letting me go?

As I unlock the door and open it, Rowan also gets out, and it makes the mustard seed of hope that just sprouted in my chest die.

I glance up and down the street, my body trembling as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

What do I do? Should I run?

Not thinking for a second longer, I dart away, but as I glance over my shoulder, I see Rowan slide over the hood of the truck, and just as I let out a shriek and hunch my shoulders to my ears, his arm comes around me, and I’m yanked off my feet.

“Stop,” he growls right by my ear, making a shudder hit hard. “If anyone tries to help you, I will kill them. You are coming with me, whether I have to carry you or not.”

Gasps explode over my parted lips, my eyes darting all over the sidewalks. Most people are going about their business, while only a few give us curious looks.

“Are you walking or am I throwing you over my shoulder?” Rowan asks.

Hoarsely, I whisper, “Walking.”

“Good girl.” The deep rumble makes goose bumps erupt on my skin.

I’m lowered to my feet, but then he takes my hand in a brutal hold and pulls me down the nearest alley.

“Where are we going?” I dare to ask as I glance at the buildings on either side of us.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

My eyes dart to Rowan’s face, his expression cut from stone while he constantly surveys the area around us.

Less than an hour ago, I was so happy, and now it feels like I’ve been thrown into some kind of twilight zone where nothing makes sense.