Page 245 of Intense

Declan takes hold of Arthur as I watch this play out. I’m fucking frozen.

Reggie and Drago are already moving, working fast.

“We’re getting him to the hospital. Now,” Reggie barks.

Rowan groans weakly, his eyes rolling back.

I can’t even breathe. Seeing someone in my family bleeding out again, my wife is still missing. Every failure crushing me like bricks. This… this is why I need to get Stephanie back. She is my anchor. She is the only one who can help stay sane through all this.

I grip the gun tighter, my vision tunneling.

Shit just got a lot more serious.

Bending down, I remove the jacket he’s clutching to his wound, finding the entrance and exit holes. “It looks clean, but he needs to get out of here. You’re going to be fine, Rowan.” I tap his cheek to try and keep him with us.

They lift him carefully and rush him out and I hold myself up against the wall.

My voice doesn’t sound human anymore. “We find her now.”

I turn to Arthur, pointing my gun straight between his eyes. I’m fighting a battle within myself, and I have to find her before I lose. I might have stopped the drug from taking me over, but the side effects are still trying to knock me on my ass.

“If you want any chance of walking out of here alive. Call your cunt of a brother,” I order.

Chapter 90

STEPHANIE

Blood drips from my nose and I bite down on my tongue. My whole body throbs, but I don’t dare let him see the weakness. He’s unraveling—his temper a live wire—and I know with every bone in my body that if Finn doesn’t find me soon, this man will kill me.

I’m not alive because he wants me alive. I’m alive because I’m a pawn. A piece in his game for power against the Quinns. That’s the only thing keeping me breathing.

He drags a chair across the carpet and straddles it backward, leaning his arms against the top. Just watching me, wearing that wicked grin like he’s already won.

“You’re pretty,” he says.

I scrunch my nose, glaring at him as he rips off my gag.

“I can see why the doctor went for you.” He props his cheek against his hand. “Open your legs for me.”

I shake my head sharply. “I can’t. My dress is down to my ankles, dickhead.”

He bursts out laughing, the sound manic.

“And she’s sassy. Fuck, Finn did hit the jackpot.”

My stomach knots as he pulls a flip knife from his pocket, the metallic click echoing through me.

“I can cut you out of it. Make you more comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t.” My voice is sharp.

“Why? Because your husband’s going to kill me?” He runs a finger along the blade.

“Probably, yeah.”

He shakes his head. “No. Because if my plan works the way I want it to, I’m not getting the blame for this.”

A chill rips through me. “What is the plan?” I ask sweetly, trying to buy time.