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My baby is white as a sheet by now and I reaffirm my promise to make everyone who’s frightened her pay.
Grabbing her by the neck, I slam a kiss on her soft lips, then tear myself away. “You’re mine, Kitty. Nothing and no one will take you away from me. Remember that, okay?”
Leaving quickly before the sight of her wrecks me completely, I shut and lock the bathroom door behind me.
The exertions of unhinged men kicking at the door has me racing across the room.
I pick up the sofa, barely feeling its weight as I wedge it in front of the bathroom door. It won’t stop anyone for more than a few seconds but right now, I’ll take every precious one I can get.
Returning to the warden’s desk, I riffle through the drawers, growling in frustration when I only find a puny pair of scissors and a set of ten-pound free weights.
I would’ve laughed at the image of the warden using the ridiculous weights behind his desk if the further buckling of the door didn’t draw icy cold dread down my back.
I look up to see one arm littered with shitty prison tattoos clutching a fire-escape axe ease through the buckled door, followed by one jump-suited leg.
The shiny bald head of Wrexton State Penitentiary’s most notorious inmate appears, his deranged eyes fixing on mine.
My blood hardens to ice.
Here goes nothing.
Without a second thought, I let loose a soul-shriveling battle cry and charge.
8
Kitty
My hands cover my ears but they’re useless in blocking out the horrific sounds coming from Dad’s office. Hot tears blur my vision and drench my cheeks as my lips move in fervent prayer.
A part of me feels like that’s a useless effort too.
But a stronger part can’t stop the pleas from spilling free. Can’t stop from making wild promises to a higher power I have every intention of keeping if we get through this.
Because it feels too cruel a fate to meet a man like Monroe, to experience what I’ve experienced, only to lose him.
And while many would call me crazy for falling so fast under such bizarre and frightening circumstances, I know what I feel isn’t some twisted Stockholm syndrome.
Hell, with how hard I fought for the interview that now seems like it happened a century ago, it feels like this was fated.
That I was meant to be here with him. Today.
Good God. I’m in deep, desperate, exhilarating love. With Gage Monroe.
Even now, I could be carrying his child.
If he dies I’ll…I’ll…
I shake my head free of that terrifying thought, then shake it harder at the sound of hard rams, furious bellows and breaking furniture and glass.
I scream as something heavy crashes against the bathroom door. Seconds later, a greater assault splinters the wood.
Monroe and another equally immense guy fall through the busted door, their rippling muscles covered in gashes.
When my eyes find the man I love, his hair is wild and his teeth are bared in a feral snarl.
His eyes met mine. I gasp at the blood dripping down his forehead, staining his eyes red. He looks primal and untamed.
A wild and vicious predator.
