Please, Jude, follow me.
My comm buzzes.“Emma, Alexei isn’t here. Not a sign. He didn’t even attend the event. The motherfucker knew something was off.”
My stomach twists.No.
I force my panic down, though I can’t. Ican’t. Everything has gone wrong. He outsmarted us. And now, we’re going to lose Jude forever, or possibly, lose our lives tonight. I push through a pair of swinging doors into the night. My fingers curl around the comm, keeping their voices close.
“Do we have Graves?” Adela asks, her voice filling my head.
“Drawing him outside now,” I respond swiftly.
“Nico, Kieran, get the cars,” she commands. “Everyone, be ready to get the hell out of here within five minutes.”
“Getting Heather now,” Micah clicks through.
I force my legs to keep pace as I walk away from the dining hall, though every nerve is screaming. I’m almost to the shed when a hand clamps around my throat from behind, and I’m slammed hard against the cold wooden wall of it. My knees threaten to buckle as my lungs scream for air. I gasp, hands pushing, but the grip is practically iron.
Jude’s hardened face is glaring down at me, his eyes as sharp as a predator’s.
“It’s me…” I croak, barely able to speak, my fingers scratching at his wrist, trying to pry him away. To get in some damn air. My heart is pounding so violently, it’sallI can hear.
Jude’s body cages me in, his eyes dark and...dead. Like in my nightmare. Music from inside thumps faintly, guests still unaware of the bloodbath in the mansion. He shifts, his fingers still locked around my throat.
I try to scream, but it comes out as a strangled croak. I feel the mask on my face, the flimsy barrier hiding me. He leans in closer, almost studying me, and then rips it off in one swift, brutal motion. The mask flies from my face, and I’m exposed,vulnerable. My now dark, short hair falls in disarray, my eyes wide and frantic. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the cold night air rushing across my sweaty skin.
His entire body tenses, including his fingers. I can see a war playing out behind his eyes, but still, he refuses to let me go. If anything, he’s frozen in place. His heart is thundering beneath my hands that are pushing against his chest.
“J—Jude!” I plead, voice cracking, trembling in ways I didn’t think possible. “It’s me—Emma. P—please come with me. We’re here for you.”
His eyes snap to mine for a heartbeat, and I swear I can finally see a flicker of recognition, but it’s gone almost immediately. His lips part in a hiss, teeth bared, and he punches the wood beside my head with a force that makes me wince. The vibration rattles through my body, and instinctively I squeeze my eyes shut. His grip tightens around my throat, cutting off my oxygen entirely. My lips part in a silent scream as I try and fail to breathe.
He doesn’t recognize me. He’s going to kill me.
Why is he killing me?
Micah and Heather are rushing up, voices shouting his name, but I can barely hear them over the roar of my own pulse. My body is trying to stay alive. Everything is amplified—the brush of Jude’s leather against my skin, the tension in his muscles, the cold scrape of the wood beneath my palms.
The edges of my vision begin to darken, and my arms loosen at my sides. I refuse to look at anyone else while I die, even if the man killing me is the one I love.
He leans closer, chest pressing against mine. My head feels like it might explode from the pressure. Then, without warning, he’s ripped away from me. I greedily suck in oxygen, my body realizing that it’s not actually about to die. I cough and sputter, and when my vision focuses, the first thing I see is Jude slamming his fist into Micah’s face.
“Jude!” I yell, throwing myself between them as Micah staggers back.
Jude glares at me, and I realize that I have no idea who I’m looking at anymore. My heart shatters, a small sob falling from my lips when I see the wildness in his gaze.
All of us duck instinctively when gunfire cracks through the night. Everyone but Jude. He’s still glaring at me, like I’m his...enemy.
For a split second, everything freezes. Then the mansion erupts, high-pitched screams pouring out of the doors. Glass shatters. Guests flood the courtyard in a wave of glittering gowns and black tuxedos, panic replacing laughter. The bass inside cuts abruptly, replaced by chaos and shouted commands.
Jude stiffens, every muscle in his body coiled painfully tight.
“Jude!”
My head snaps over to see Adriana bursting through the doors, scanning frantically. “Jude!” she calls again, breathless, eyes wild. The blonde man who escorted her earlier is nowhere to be seen. She spots him, and relief floods her face for a brief moment before her eyes land on me. Her mouth falls open, understanding dawning. But instead of stepping back or questioning, she goes straight to his side. Her hand finds his arm like she belongs there.
Hot and viscous anger ignites in my chest, sharper and more volatile than the fear.
“Save him, please,” she begs.