Page 92 of Rampage

"Grab her arms!" the tallest one yells, edging around me.

I slash the knife in a wide arc, forcing him back. For a moment, hope flares. I fought off three men at the bakery. I can do this.

Pain explodes across my back as something hard connects with my shoulder. I hit the floor hard, my vision going white.

Before I can regain my bearings, rough hands clamp onto my arms. I attempt to twist and kick, but the hit to my shoulder has left me momentarily stunned, my muscles heavy and unresponsive. Panic surges as they drag me toward the door, my feet trailing uselessly behind me.

"Move!" one of them barks, his grip like iron.

They haul me down the stairs, and across the alley behind the diner where a dark van idles. I slam my head back into one man's chest, catching him off guard. His grip loosens just enough to give me a fleeting chance.

I wrench free, scrambling toward the street, but they’re on me in an instant. The tallest one throws his full weight on top of me, forcing me to the ground. A hand presses over my nose and mouth, the suffocating pressure plunging me into darkness.

I'm dimly aware of being lifted, carried, the jarring motion making my head swim. When consciousness returns, I'm on my back in the van's trunk, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Pain radiates through my skull, hot and blinding.

I try to scream, but the sound is lost under the roar of the engine as the van lurches into motion. Desperation claws at my chest as the cramped space spins around me.

No. Not again. Not now. Not when I just found…

I fight the blackness threatening to claim me, my fingers scrabbling for leverage on the slick interior. The ropes binding my wrists dig cruelly into my skin, but I welcome the sharp pain, focusing on it to stay conscious.

The van screeches around a corner, throwing me hard against the side. The impact sends stars bursting across my vision, and I choke back a cry.

Movement has always been my escape, my survival.

sixteen

Reid

I check my watch for the third time in fifteen minutes, a knot of unease growing in my stomach. Five hours since I dropped Lily off at the diner. Five hours without a text or call.

"Something's wrong," I mutter, pacing the length of the clubhouse meeting room where I'd been helping Lane review security plans for our expanded operations.

Lane glances up from the blueprints spread across the table. "You're being paranoid, brother. She's probably just caught up in packing."

"No." I shake my head, already reaching for my keys. "Lily always checks in. Always."

I try to call her cell phone once more, but it goes to voicemail after four rings. I quickly leave the clubhouse and hop on my bike. My heart pounds as the engine starts up with a roar.

"Let me know when you find her," Lane calls after me, his expression shifting from dismissive to concerned as he reads the tension in my shoulders.

The ride to the diner takes less than five minutes, my bike weaving through traffic with reckless speed. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones, in the cold sweat breaking across my skin.

Deb looks up in surprise as I burst through the front door, scanning the nearly empty diner.

"Reid? What's?—"

"Where's Lily?" I demand, not bothering with pleasantries.

Deb's brow furrows. "Upstairs packing, last I saw. Been quiet up there for a while now."

I'm already moving toward the back stairs, taking them two at a time. The door to Lily's apartment hangs open, splintered around the lock. Ice floods my veins as I step inside.

"Lily?" My voice echoes in the empty space.

The apartment is a disaster zone—furniture overturned, books scattered across the floor, signs of a struggle everywhere I look. A knife lies abandoned near the kitchen, smeared with what looks horrifyingly like blood.

"No, no, no," I whisper, my chest constricting so tightly I can barely breathe.