“Just what your brother owes us. We aren’tunreasonable.”
I scoff. “You’re kidnapping me! You don’t think that’s a littleunreasonable?”
“You’re leverage. Nothingpersonal.”
“You attacked me on the street, slammed my head into an aquarium, and dropped me in a puddle. Felt prettypersonal.”
He shrugs. “Cost of doingbusiness.”
I dart a glance behind me and see the door is still thirtyfeetaway.
“You come quietly, things will go better for you.” He looms over me, mere inches away. “And yourbrother.”
“Thanks,” I hiss. “But quiet’s never really been mystyle.”
With my good foot, still clad in a razor-sharp stiletto heel, I kick up and catch him straight between the legs. He goes down with a groan of pain, falling to his knees. I scramble out of range before he can grab me and drag myself into a standing position, using the metal guardrails to support most of my weight. Blinking back tears of pain, I keep my injured foot aloft and start hopping toward the exit, screaming my head off theentiretime.
“Help me! Please, I’m in the quarantine room! Somebodyplease!”
I hear Cueball clambering to his feet. His voice is thick with rage. “You littlebitch!”
My eyes are on the door. Twenty feet. I can make it. Almostthere.
But my progress ispainfullyslow.
His hands find my biceps, spinning me around to face him. He presses me back until the railing digs into my spine; I’m bent so far over, I fear I’ll plummet into one of the tanks. His dark eyes are narrowed in vengeance as his grip tightens to the point of pain. I’m so focused on him, I don’t even hear the door clicking open twenty feetfromus.
“Gonna pay for that,” Cueball sneers, eyes still smarting with tears of pain from the blow between his legs. “Sorely.”
“Worth it to see you crying likeababy.”
“Bitch!” He rears back to punch me and my eyes close, awaiting theimpact.
Except… it nevercomes.
A wall of heat appears at my side. I crack open my eyes to see a giant fist enveloping Cueball’s hand in an iron grip, halting his punch midair. Turning my head, my eyes widen when I see it’s Luca. Relief sweeps through me inawave.
He’shere.
He cameforme.
Luca makes short work of placing the smaller man in an unbreakable headlock. His eyes never shift from Cueball, but when he speaks, I know it’s me he’saddressing.
“Are you okay?” His tone is strained, almost savage in its bleakness. Just hearing it makes my mouthgodry.
“I’mokay.”
He nods — a slight, tense acknowledgment. “Take the phone out of my back pocket. Call Nate. Tell him you’re safe, and that I’ve got the second one incustody.”
I nod and pull out his phone with shaky fingers. Scrolling to Nate’s name, I dial and hold it to my ear. It barely rings before Nate’s voice cracks overtheline.
“Did youfindher?”
“It’s me,” I breathe, gripping the guard rail to support my weight. “Lucafoundus.”
“Where?”
“QuarantineRoom.”