Page 31 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Then I go out to my car and haul my ass to Brooks’s office.

Pascal’s there, discussing the latest developments.

I’d been planning on meeting with them, planning on telling Brooks everything that Pascal already knows but no one else does.

Pascal knows the Lyons.

Knows what happens when these people decide someone you love becomes leverage.

But Brooks deserves to know what kind of monster helped his security chief learn those lessons.

I double park, blow by the receptionist in the lobby, take the elevator up to his floor, and walk by his admin.

“Sir?” he calls, trying to stop me.

I ignore him as I shove into Brooks’s office, one wrong move away from becoming exactly the monster the Lyons trained me to be.

Pascal stands immediately, understands immediately even before I shove the picture at him.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Brooks looks at me, at the photo in Pascal’s hand.

“They have River.”

Eleven

River

The first thing I hear is screaming.

Not mine.

It’s male.

And sounds like it’s coming from very far away.

Groaning softly, I try to lift my head, but it’s spinning and my cheek aches from where the jerk backhanded me.

Twice.

And tasered me.

Also twice.

A loud blast rents through the air and my eyes snap open. I jerk against the zip ties binding me to the cold metal chair, my mind clearing, panic surging through me.

Trapped. Overpowered. Beaten. No way out.

For one terrible second, I can’t breathe.

Then another blast echoes through the warehouse and I realize what they are.

Gunshots.

I yank against my restraints to no avail.

There’s shouting, more gunshots, pounding footsteps, movement closing in.