Page 75 of Overdose

The air between us crackles—rage and panic bleeding into every word, every breath.

I glance down at the burner phone still sitting in my palm like a fucking curse.

I flip the phone open. Only one number saved. Just one.

Figures.

My thumb hitscalland I press it to speaker.

It rings once.

Then—

“Thought you’d call.”

That voice. Calm. Casual. Fucking smug.

My chest tightens. “Dante.”

He chuckles, smooth as always. “Tick-tock, Dagger. Looks like your clock ran out.”

“No,” I snap. “You said forty-eight hours. I still had time.”

“I did,” he admits, tone maddeningly relaxed. “But in my experience, people work a little faster when the threat’s not hypothetical. When the clock’s not ticking in the background but screaming in their fucking ear.”

“You took her to light a fire under our asses?” I grind out.

“I borrowed her,” Dante says, amused. “Motivation. Consider it strategic pressure. She's a means to an end, Dagger. You want her breathing? You get me my money, or my fucking pills. Faster.”

I take a step forward like it’ll somehow close the distance. “You touch her?—”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Dante says. “She’s fine. Mouthy as hell this one, just like her sister. Bites like her too.”

Noir growls low in his throat, eyes full of blood and murder.

Dante’s voice drops, syrupy and final. “She’s got maybe a few hours before I decide she’s not worth the hassle. So I’d get moving, boys. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

Click.

Silence.

Just our breathing. Noir’s fists trembling at his sides. My heart beating like a war drum in my throat.

And the knowledge that if we don’t find her fast, we’ll be dragging her body out of whatever hellhole he’s locked her in.

Time’s almost up.

For a second, the room holds its breath. Then Noir’s moving—grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it, screaming something guttural as it crashes into the wall. I let him. He needs to get it out. We both do.

But not for long.

Because they tookourfucking girl.

Dante just lit a fuse he won’t be able to snuff out because we’re coming for her like a bad fucking high with no comedown. Nothing’s gonna stop the rush. Not bullets, not bodies, not even the burn it takes to bring her home.

Fifteen

Noir