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Fuck, this hurts. Everything hurts. I can’t see anything.
Fuck.
If Fox doesn’t find me now, he’ll be too late. They’ll shove me in a car and drive away.
Dammit, Fox. Where are you?
I slip from the agent’s grasp again. Gravity pulls me down to the ground and I slam onto my knees. I cry out in pain as another pair of hands try to pick me up again, but they fall away just as quickly.
Knuckles strike skin. Feet shuffle around me. Bodies fall to the ground following loud grunts of pain.
I roll over and slide backward until my head collides with a car door. Someone trips over my knees and falls. They don’t get back up. I kick the legs away as I breathe a sigh of relief.
Fox found me.
I stay back, curling into a ball to get out of the way, listening to the carnage of grunts and fists and splatters of blood.
Finally, the violence ends.
I whimper in the silence. “Fox?”
Boots tap along the concrete toward me. He kneels beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder to draw me forward. I lean to expose my tied wrists. He carefully cuts the zip-tie with a knife.
I rub my temples, soothing the pain for a moment, before pulling the hood off.
“Fox—”
I freeze. The man beside me isn’t Fox.
He’s a few years older than him. Thin, dark hair. Chiseled, handsome face. Dressed in black from head-to-toe. I look over him at the red-haired woman behind him, casually standing among the mountain of dead bodies with blood on her hands.
I fill my lungs to scream.
The man places his knife against his lips in warning. “Yeah, please don’t do that,” he says, his voice calm and deep.
I bite down, shaking in fear.
“Dani...” the woman says, glancing around. “Where is Fox?”
“Who?” I ask.
She rolls her big eyes.
The man closes his knife and yanks the remaining duct tape hanging off the edge of my chin. I cringe at the flash of pain along my lips.
“Dani, they didn’t come alone,” he says, nodding his head toward the nearest body. “Help us help you. Where is Fox?”
These people... I don’t even know who they are. How do they know Fox? What do they want with him? How did they manage to kill this many Snake Eyes agents so quickly? They must be highly trained. They might even be...
I stare into the man’s eyes. “What do you want with him?” I ask.
He stands up and extends his hand to me. “Let’s just say he owes me a drink.”
I look between him and the woman, making a split-second decision. I take his hand and he pulls me off the cold concrete floor. A few spare spots dance in my vision, so I lay a hand down on the car behind me to make sure I stay standing.
The woman steps forward, forcefully kicking a limp hand out of the way as she slides a little flip phone from her pocket.
“Call him,” the man says to me. “Fox had you memorize a number, right?”
