Page 1 of Healing Conviction

PROLOGUE

Another right hook to his side knocked Draco’s breath out of him. He’d never been so off his game during a fight. Paying attention to this big Russian fucker should’ve been his first priority. But he couldn’t pull his focus away from the woman being crushed on the ground mere feet from him.

He was supposed to be protecting her. Instead, he was getting his ass handed to him after being caught off guard. Seconds before, he’d been enthralled by the woman’s mischievous smile and the way her light-purple hair shimmered silver in the moonlight, reminding him of a mythical pixie. Then the giant’s henchman came out of nowhere and attacked her. Draco had shot the bastard in the head without a second thought.

If he hadn’t acted so impulsively, maybe Nora wouldn’t be trapped under the guy’s deadweight. With her petite figure, she didn’t stand a chance of escaping.

Dodging another hit from the giant in front of him, Draco retaliated with an uppercut to the Russian’s jaw.

“Nora, fucking… run.”

Logically, he knew if she were able, she’d already have fled. But she was only one hundred pounds soaking wet, and her five foot flat frame was struggling to get free.

Draco saw an opening while his opponent retreated from him and went for a one-two punch to his side. When he returned his fist to a fighting stance, he realized his mistake. His enemy hadn’t been falling back. He’d been arming himself.

There was a sharp crack in the air just before something sliced Draco’s side. The Russian may have left himself open for a hit, but Draco should’ve known the guy was too skilled a fighter to allow himself to become easy prey. It’d been a calculated sacrifice in order to whip the gun out from his holster and shoot.

The bullet wound stung like a bitch, toppling him to his knees. But he wouldn’t quit. The shot hadn’t hit anything vital and the woman was still in danger.

“Nora… please… run.”

His pleas only wasted his breath. A glance in her direction proved she was still fighting beneath the large body. Shoot first, ask questions later, was always a mistake, and this case was no different. He and his BlackStone Securities teammates operated with Tasers, but Draco had seen Nora being assaulted by the giant’s henchman and he’d snapped, going for the kill instead of the stun and run.

The suited blond man the two Russians had been following around stepped into Draco’s view, reminding him there was another threat that needed to be dispatched. Fighting off two guys was typically a practice round for him, but adding in a gunshot wound and the life of an innocent raised the stakes.

But the suited man surprised him by sliding the casualty to the side, freeing Nora. She grunted as she wobbled to all fours, the sight weakening his own muscles with relief. Even if he went down, at least she’d be able to run to safety.

The little pixie will be fine. Take a breath and keep going. The pain means I’m alive. Which means I can get us out of this.

Draco returned his attention to the Russian, realizing too late that a gun was still pointing at his chest. He scoured his mind for any defensive maneuvers that could get him off his knees and out of such a tight spot, but there was a reason why the position was used so often in executions.

His hand drifted to his hip, forgetting for a moment that he’d lost his gun while grappling with the Russian.

Nora’s horrified gasp snapped his concentration back to her.

“Nora… go. Run.”

The words were a bitch to rasp out, but she remained frozen, and terror, like he’d never experienced, choked anything else he might’ve said.

Why the fuck isn’t she running?

These men had to be part of the trafficking ring Draco and his crew were trying to bring down. What would happen if he failed to protect her?

Under the lone streetlight in the parking lot, her pretty, violet contact lenses were dark and glassy with tears. The gravel crunched under her high-heel combat boots as she stepped toward him, reaching out in a trance-like state.

“Drake—”

“Nora, no!”

He shoved her away, pushing her to the ground as a second bullet pierced his flesh and thumped into his chest.

Fear flooded her pale face, made whiter by the silver in her purple curls. He stretched his arm out, reaching to comfort her, but he already knew he’d never be able to catch her.

This part of the memory always happened in slow motion.

He’d started questioning whether this was hell or not about a thousand replays ago. Was he being forced to forever relive his last few gut-wrenching moments? When he’d failed to protect the woman who’d captivated him from the moment she’d made him laugh?

His mind rebelled against the idea that he was playing out yet another sequence in this godforsaken loop. He’d brush her fingertips just as the Russian snatched her from the ground, stealing her away. Then he’d collapse in his kneeled position, his face slamming into the gravel, only to wake and relive the whole thing over again.