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He offered no explanation, simply stepping closer, a menacing glint in his eyes. I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest. The door I’d entered through seemed miles away, and with him blocking it, I had nowhere to run.
“Stay back,” I warned, my voice wavering despite my best efforts. He laughed, a low, chilling sound that echoed off the tiles.
“And why would I do that?” he asked, advancing another step. His eyes raked over me in a way that made my skin crawl. Panic set in, rooting me to the spot.
Adrenaline rushed through me. Panicking wouldn’t help; Tristan’s lessons flashed through my mind. But my promise to him did too. I was supposed to run. But where was I going to go?
“Stay away,” I warned, trying to appear confident despite the shaking of my hands.
But the man only sneered, stepping closer. He didn’t know who he was dealing with, though–I wasn’t a damsel in distress waiting to be saved. A spark of determination flared within me. It was time to put what Tristan had taught me into action.
I quickly assessed my surroundings, my sharp gaze darting around the bathroom. There wasn’t much to work with, but I spotted a mop propped against the wall behind me.
Without letting on what I was about to do, I acted. With an agility that surprised even me, I twisted around, grabbed the mop, and swung it at the man like a baseball bat. It hit him square in the chest and he stumbled back.
I dashed for the door but he recovered too quickly, lunged at me just as I reached for the handle. His hand closed around my wrist, his grip iron-clad and painful. A scream tore from my throat.
He put his hand against my mouth. “I can make this easy for you or I can make this hard. I recommend easy for your sake. Makes no difference to me.”
I bit down on his dirty hand with all the strength I could muster and he howled, releasing my wrist out of reflex. I twisted away and used the mop again, this time aiming for his head. The contact of the mop against his skull produced a sickening thud, but he fell back, clutching his head in pain.
But it wasn’t enough.
Despite the pain, and he had to be in pain, he wrapped an arm around my waist and started to pull me away from the bathroom. I thrashed against him, beating my fists against his arm, but it was pointless.
I screamed. “Tristan! Tristan!”
The man put his hand on my mouth again, muffling me as he swore under his breath.
Just as Tristan’s name tore from my throat, the bathroom door flew open with a crash. I didn’t even need to look to know who stood there. The man holding me froze, a low curse echoing through the room.
It took me a few seconds to process what was happening; the way Tristan stood at the door. He had never failed to protect me, and I knew he would do anything to get me out of danger.
“Let her go,” he said.
“No can do, Callahan,” the man replied.
Tristan’s stance shifted, his body coiling like a spring ready to be unleashed. His eyes glowed with a dangerous intensity, though his voice was as cold as the icy rain outside. “That wasn’t a request,” he spat out.
The man holding onto me didn’t respond. Instead, he tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me closer to him as if I were a human shield. Terror coursed through me but I forced myself to stay calm. Tristan was here and somehow, he would get me out of this.
Tristan pulled out his gun. So did the man who had grabbed me.
Except he didn’t point it at Tristan. He pressed it against my temple. He did it quickly, and Tristan stilled, his gun still in his hand.
“Move and she dies,” he warned. “Drop it. Put your hands on your head.”
Tristan paled. He did as he was told, despite the fury in his eyes. His gun clattered to the ground. My captor’s voice was a low growl, threatening and cold. My eyes widened, my heart hammering so loudly I swore it echoed off the bathroom walls. The barrel of the gun felt cold and hard against the side of my face.
Tristan’s face was a mask of calm but his eyes held a dangerous glint. He kept his gaze trained on the man involuntarily tightening his grip around me. “Let her go,” he repeated, his voice as steady as his gaze. “Please.”
“Still not gonna happen,” the man sneered, pressing the cold muzzle of the gun harder against my temple. A shudder ran through me at the sensation but I forced myself to remain still, to show him he didn’t scare me.
A moment of tense silence fell over us before Tristan finally spoke again. “Then shoot me but let her go,” he said evenly, holding the man’s gaze with an unflinching stare.
“Tempting,” he said. “But I have orders.”
The man pulled me away from Tristan, backing us further into the room and putting more distance between us. The cold tile of the sink bit into my lower back as he pressed me against it, his gun never wavering from my temple.
