Page 75 of Freeing Denver

I honestly don’t know. Going home is a huge risk. They could have decided that it’d be in their better interest to get to the safe house.

“I’ll figure something out. Is Alistair on it?”

“Yep. Be careful, both of you.”

Once the call is over, we wait a few minutes before setting off again. As I ease the car out of the alley, Denver slumps into the seat, her head back, eyes closed. I grip her thigh, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“Adrenaline,” she whispers. “I’m shaky.”

“We’re safe,” I say. “We?—”

Lights beam between us.

Another car hits my door.

My head cracks into the window. Metal screams, groans, sparks.

We’re pushed down the street by whoever hit us, rubber dragging against tarmac.

Pain splits my skull, and I blink, warmth running down my face, the faint smell of iron filling my nostrils. Pressure builds against my legs, the driver’s side crumpled, pieces of metal buried deep in my thigh. Deep, too deep?—

“Denver.” I push through the pain, the confusion, the sound of car doors opening and slamming closed. Denver is slumped against the passenger side door, not moving.

I try to move. To get to her. But pain sears through my thigh, metal pinning me in place.

The edges of my vision start to blur.

Tiredness sweeps across me. One so familiar. A pull to quiet, to peace, to darkness?—

But terror has my senses snapping into sharp focus as figures approach the car. I twist as much as I can, looking for the gun, but Denver’s door is already being opened.

She almost falls out, but the man who opened the door catches her.

My heart races and I stare at him, not needing him to speak to know that he isn’t here to help. I try to move, to pull the metal free from my thigh, but he’s already lifting Denver into his arms. Panic spears me sharper than the shards in my leg.

“Leave with her and I’ll end you,” I say. “And not just you. Your family. Your friends. Every fucker you’ve ever met will die if you take her!”

His grin only widens. Denver’s head lolls backward, her body limp in his arms.

“Say bye-bye, Ghost.”

He walks away, and I roar. My mind becomes awash with the kind of fear I’ve felt before—of inescapable loss. Of feeling more helpless than I ever have. Of watching someone I love be taken from me. My skin peppers with heat, the fear and panic becoming a living fucking presence in my body that threatens to swallow everything I need to survive whole.

No. I won’t lose her. I can’t.

I wrench my leg free.

The pain is blistering,overwhelming, and rivets of blood spill across my legs. My skin chills, but I drag myself to the passenger seat, falling into the street, my skin sopping with red. I’m unsteady on my feet but still snatch the gun from the footwell.

But he’s already in the back of his car with her.

I fire.

Again and again.

The gun feels light in my hand.

Useless.