Page 82 of Under Your Scars

The horrible, blood-curdling, high-pitched ringing that emanates from my cell phone. My body goes rigid, and my blood runs completely cold. I pull out my phone and with trembling hands, I watch a red dot blink rapidly on the screen at the precise location of the Hellfire Lounge.

“Fuck!”

I take off in a sprint towards my car and hop in, my wheels screeching harshly against the asphalt as I drive.This is bad.This is fucking bad.

After I told her the truth, Elena left my house with the intention of never seeing me again. I know that in my bones. The way she looked at me felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

If she pressed her panic alarm after that, she is in danger. Not justscared, but actual, mortaldanger. ‘I’m calling the one person on this earth that I hate for help’ kind of danger.

She’s calling me for help because she thinks I’m the only one who can save her.

I will not let her down.

The first thing I do when I get home is rush into my basement. The official property records indicate that my mansion doesn’t have a basement. It wasn’t easy—or cheap—to forge the documentation that I had it sealed up. The entrance is now hidden behind a fake bookcase, spy movie style, in the second-floor library. The staircase is thin and steep, and my knees ache painfully when I jump down one story at a time until I reach the bottom.

My basement is where I keep all my gear. Guns, ammo, grenades, adrenaline, knives. Anything and everything I could possibly need to do what I do. I change and strap everything I can to my body and inject myself with a shot of electrolytes and chug a bottle of water to fight the alcohol in my veins. I need a clear head for this.

I check Elena’s tracker again. She’s still in the Hellfire Lounge, which is a small relief. It means at the very least, she’s still on the island.

In an abundance of caution, I call 911 and make a fake report from a burner phone that I’ve placed bombs along the bridges leading to and from the island, so that they’re forced to shut them down to investigate. I’m not above actually blowing one up later if I have to.

I’m coming for her, and nothing will fucking stop me.

I bring so much fury with me to that fucking club that I can hardly think straight. The only thing bouncing around in my mind is her name, and what I’m going to do to the motherfuckers that dared to try and take her from me.

Elena.Elena.Elena.

My brain chants her name like she’ll appear in front of me if I say it enough times.

I slice open the throat of the bouncer at the door and stomp through the club until I reach the main dance floor, hot air leaving my nose with each exhale like a dragon. Once I’m in the direct center of the club, I rest my M4 in the crook of my arm, point it towards the rafters, and spray a dozen bullets into the ceiling.

Sparks erupt from the lights above me and screams fill the club before the music cuts off and the room goes silent.

“Somebody take me to Frank Valenti.Right. Now,” I yell into the air. “Now! Or I’m going to kill every single person in this fucking room!”

Three armed bouncers come running down the walkway on the other side of the room. They have pistols, and I have a rifle. The three of them go down in nine easy shots.

Two to the chest, one to the head.

Two to the chest, one to the head.

Two to the chest, one to the head.

“Hey!”

A woman’s voice behind me has me spinning and pointing my gun at her head. It’s Kate. I take three deep breaths, my eyes wild as I stare her down. She has her hands up in surrender.

“Where is he?” I growl, my voice dripping in venom—laced with adrenaline and fear and anger. “God fucking damn it, tell me now or I’ll blow your head off!”

“He’s downstairs!” Kate tells me, her voice timid under the threat of the barrel shoved in her face. She points to a corridor diagonal to me. “The elevator is over there. Here.” She hands me a key card. “I stole it off the bouncer that guards the door. It should unlock the VIP room. That’s where Valenti is.” I step around her and she grabs my arm, and I come dangerously close to pulling that trigger. “Hey! They took my friend down there. Her name’s Elena. She’s got long brown hair and she looked hurt. Please, please,pleaseget her out of there.”

They. She saidtheytook her down there. “Was there someone else with Valenti?”

She nods. “Yes. Yes—a bald man. With a broken arm.”

Neil. My chest ripples with unfiltered rage. “I’ll get her out. I’ll fucking get her out,” I growl, though I think I’m telling that to myself more than Kate.

Valenti’s goons have shit aim and most of them have never been in a shoot-out before. I cut down all of them, leaving a trail of bloody carnage in my path as I fight my way to that elevator.