Page 16 of The Bronze Garza

Most importantly,whoare these men who took me?

Twisting back around from the window, I ask again, “Are you Igor’s men?”

“No.” This comes from the man beside me. He’s looking out the window, back at the club. “Just be quiet. You’re safe.”

Safe?That makes me snort out loud.

At this, the man beside me turns from the window to look at me. Immediately, it’s as if two separate gusts of air, one hot, one frigid, wrap around each other like fierce, passionate lovers and blast me in the chest. Because... those eyes. Iknowthose eyes. I’ve dreamt of those eyes. I’ve searched all night for those eyes.

It’s him.

How is he…?

Why is he…?

What. Is. Happening?

“There’re clothes in that bag for you. Put them on.”

With an obedient nod, I unzip the bag and begin taking out the articles of clothes inside. Not because I believe I’m safe with him—something tells me he’s deadlier than Igor. No, I relax, because...well...call me Stockholm, but this dangerously magnetic man is a syndrome I don’t mind having.

Wherever he’s taking me, I will go without a fight.

ChapterFive

“This is the world we live in, princess.”

Lyra

We drive for a long time.

Until the cars become less and less, the buildings farther and farther in between.

The men remove their masks.

The driver isWilliam.

I’m surprised, but I don’t utter another word.

Soon, we’re careening onto vast open land with running blue and orange lights.

Flashing lights ahead catch my attention and I lean forward to get a closer look.

A jet.

We’re headed toward ajet.

Where is he taking me?

When the vehicle finally brakes on the tarmac, all three men jump out. Not waiting to be told, I grab the duffelbag and clamber out as well, because hell if I’m getting left behind. There’d been two new jeans, plain t-shirts, a pair of sneakers, and a wool coat inside the duffelbag. All surprisingly my size—perfect fit.

I havesomany questions.

What if...no—nope. I refuse to allow myself to hope again. This man isnotmy savior. The one I’d spent months hoping would kick down Igor’s door and rescue us. Clearly, there’s some kind of rivalry war among human traffickers going on. Though, why anyone would takeme, the least valuable Diamond Girl, as spoil of this war is beyond me. If he thinks he can use thesvin’yato negotiate with Igor, he’s in for a rude awakening. But I’m not about to tell him that.

The Bronze Man takes me by my upper arm and moves with surefooted strides toward the jet, where two burly men with machine guns strapped across their chests wait at the foot of the steps.

“You’re behind,” one of the men mutters when we get up to them. “Pilot’s been ready.”