Page 110 of Mercenary

We patiently wait, each deep within our own mindfucks.

If there was ever a time or ever a place when I wished I were a better person, it’s now. Madelyn loves the traitor.

And I love Madelyn. Yeah, I do.

But actions have consequences. I have my orders. And Kylie’s dug her own grave.

“Promise me he won’t hurt her. You’ll take her somewhere safe. Somewhere away from all this.”

Promises. Like the one I made to Jaxson. Give her a chance.

“Declan . . . please.”

“Fine,” I hear myself agree. But the truth is, I don’t need to make promises about what I’d kill anyone in my way to do.

“Thank you for treating her like your little sister.”

Fuck. I grunt.

She scowls, then her eyes widen.

Then a stampede of footsteps saves me.

32

Madelyn

Franco kicks open the bedroom door with enough force it bounces off the wall and slams back into us. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d laugh.

“Motherfucking bitch,” he snarls into my ear, his elbow tight around my throat as he forcibly drags me just inside the room.

I immediately catch sight of Kylie, sitting on the edge of the bed with her red head bowed, like she’s studying the floor and isn’t aware of the angry men who’ve just charged into the room. Her shirt is . . . oh my God, it’s covered in blood.

I jerk my body away from the man responsible for hurting her. Not even anticipating the worse can prepare me for this. But I can’t panic.

We’re survivors, Kylie and I. I don’t know how but I’ve got to believe we’ll get through this too.

She hasn’t noticed me yet. Too preoccupied with the three men who stormed in ahead of us and are now lined up before her.

In a move so fast, so unexpected, so un-Kylie-like, she raises her arm and fires three shots. The men fall to the carpet like plastic ducks at a firing range. Holy sweet Mary. What I saw her do to Franco’s men at the motel wasn’t an act of self-defense—she’s good at this.

A professional.

Just. Like. Declan.

Only Franco doesn’t seem in the least bit surprised. “See what a bitch she is? That’ll be the last time you’ll mock me,” he says maliciously, waving his finger the largest of the dead man, the one who laughed at him earlier.

Yeah, payback is a bitch.

Kylie lifts her head and turns, directing her gun directed at the doorway. At . . . me.

“Madelyn.” She says my name without emotion. Not surprised. Not worried. Like I’m no one to her.

Three men brush by and come to stand in front of Franco and I. More ducks lined up in a row, except I’m right behind them.

Kylie sets her gun on her thigh, and hunches her shoulders forward in defeat. The quintessential picture of humbleness. But Franco’s not buying it.

“Grab that bitch,” he shouts.