Proof.
But proof doesn’t stop bats from cracking ribs.
Proof doesn’t stop blood from spilling.
Proof doesn’t stop them from killing him.
I sob as another swing lands, my vision blurring as though the world is dissolving around me. Every impact feels like it echoes through my own bones. I curl forward in the seat, but I can’t look away. I won’t look away.
And then, suddenly, they stop.
The men step back.
Mercs is folded in on himself, barely moving, and my heart stutters.
Please don’t pull a gun.
Please don’t finish it.
They turn, start walking toward us, and my entire body locks in place.
Behind them, Kaden tries to lift his arm. It shakes but falls. His head drops back against the concrete with what looks like a dull crack, and then he’s out like a light.
I clamp my hand over my mouth, not sure if I’m trying to muffle a scream or hold back being physically ill. Raoul pockets his phone and shifts in front of my door, positioning himself between the approaching men and me.
They spread out slowly, casual and terrifying, bats resting on shoulders, knuckles flexing.
“I’ve informed the police,” Raoul says, his voice steady even though I can see tension thrumming through him. “They’ll be here any minute.”
The scarred man steps forward as if this is a social visit.
“Now, now,” he says mildly. “We just want to talk. We’ve got a few minutes before the police arrive. So how about you getprettyout of the car, and we all behave like civilized adults, where no one gets hurt… other than Mercs, of course… he’s in a world of pain right now. But that’s his fault. What’s it gonna be?”
Raoul doesn’t hesitate. “Not happening.”
My gaze locks on the bat in the man’s hand—there’s blood on it.
Merc’s blood.
“You see…” he continues lazily, “… this goes one of three ways. We beat you and drag her out ourselves. We torch the car and wait for her to come out. Or you open the door like a good boy, and she steps out nice and easy.”
I press my palm to the window. “Let me out, Raoul,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t even look at me this time. “No.”
“Tick tock,” the man says, tapping his watch.
“Raoul,” I try again, forcing calm into my voice even though I’m shaking. “It’s okay. Let me out.”
“Effa, no.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the man mutters, and he pulls something from his waistband.
He grabs a weapon from the side of his pants and pulls the trigger, and a large flame bellows out of it—a miniature flame thrower. I open my eyes wide and start banging on the window.
Raoul grimaces while Vex steps up to the car.
“Three, two—”