Page 180

“I was going to let you sit quietly and watch, but I see I was being too nice.” Emmanuelle aimed her gun at my face and cocked the trigger.

“No!” Ayana screamed. She struggled wildly against her ropes, derailing Wentworth’s efforts to get a solid hold on her. “Don’t?—”

The blast of a gunshot wiped out the rest of her words. My vision darkened; agony blazed as the bullet tore through flesh and bone and set off a thousand fires that ate away at my consciousness—but I was alive.

Emmanuelle had switched her target at the last minute and shot me in the thigh.

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. My head swam, and my legs almost crumpled, but I forced myself to stay upright. I refused to fall to my knees in front of her.

“A taste of what’ll come later.” Emmanuelle wiped my spit off her chin, her eyes bright. “Next time, I’ll aim for your fucking balls.”

She turned her attention to Wentworth, who was watching the events unfold with rapt fascination. “I saidtake care of her,” she growled. She swung her gaze back to me. “Let’s see if you can take her pain as well as you take yours.”

I snarled.

Wentworth pushed Ayana’s top up, and my vision blacked out for an entirely different reason.

I was a rational person. I was calm, collected, and strategic. I didn’t let emotions overshadow reason

But in that moment, Ididn’t care. I wanted his blood on my hands and his head on a fucking plate.

I lunged forward, heedless of my bound wrists or the hostile weapons surrounding me. Emmanuelle’s gun snapped up. Behind her, Ayana shouted, the sound brimming with anger more than fear. She tried to headbutt Wentworth, but he easily ducked out of the way.

Emmanuelle aimed for my groin and?—

A gray blur leapt from the top of a nearby shipping container and onto Wentworth’s face. He screamed. His gun clattered to the floor while her shot went wide. It hit the spot where Roman had been standing.

The asshole was nowhere to be seen, but I didn’t have time to dwell on where he went or when he’d slipped away.

Emmanuelle whirled in time to see the newcomer swipe its claws across Wentworth’s eyes with an angry hiss. He screamed again in obvious agony.

Shadow. Thatfuckingcat.

I could kiss the damn thing.

Emmanuelle tried to shoot at him, but Wentworth was flailing around too much for her to get a clear shot. He tried to peel the cat off him, but Shadow clung on like a barnacle. The furry menace yowled, dug his claws deeper, and gouged the fuck out of Wentworth’s eyes.

I took advantage of Emmanuelle’s distraction and tackled her from behind. We hit the concrete with pained grunts. She attempted another shot, but I’d landed on top of her, and she didn’t have enough leverage. The bullet pinged off a metal container, as did the next two after that.

Even with my hands tied, I could do some damage as long as I prevented her from shooting properly. I rolled over and pinned the arm holding her gun beneath my body weight. She struggled to free herself, but she was no match against two hundred-plus pounds of muscle and pure, unadulterated rage.

I threw my head back and slammed it into her face. Bone crunched and blood gushed.

Emmanuelle howled with anger. She reached down and jammed her nails into my bullet wound.

A hoarse shout tore from my throat. Dark spots crowded my vision. It wasn’t just my leg; my entire body was on fire, bones and muscle crumbling to ash as excruciating torture hijacked all my senses. I would’ve passed out if not for the dim awareness that Ayana and Shadow were still here, and I needed to help them.

I scrounged up enough strength to headbutt Emmanuelle again. She gasped and gurgled, blood dripping down her chin. This time, she didn’t recover so fast.

Wentworth’s panicked shouts ceased. I lifted my head in time to see Shadow fly across the room. He hit one of the containers and dropped to the ground with a pained mewl.

Emmanuelle shoved at me. I was too weak and dizzy from blood loss to offer much resistance. She freed herself and scrambled to her feet.

“Time to end this,” she hissed. She raised her gun again.

A shot blasted through the air.

I instinctively recoiled and braced myself for impact—but it never came.