“Cartel,” Isabella says curtly, scanning the room. “Stay close. Fight if you have to.”
The room is a battlefield now—guests screaming, glass shattering, gunfire echoing against the vaulted ceilings.
I know she’s looking for her husband, but mine is bleeding out on the floor. “We need to get to Leon.”
His sister pales and nods quickly, leading us forward, cutting through the crowds as fast as possible. Her movements are desperate as we inch closer to where Leon fell.
I just have enough wherewithal to notice an attack to the right of us. I launch myself to block the knife that would have embedded itself in Isabella’s shoulder and yank back his arm hard enough for bones to snap.
Isabella twirls in alarm and immediately goes for the two men behind him, taking one down before they even have a chance to strike.
Cassandra—never one to be outdone—swings her bottle haphazardly at the other, the jagged edge catching his arm.
He curses and stumbles back, giving me enough time to drive my heel into his knee.
I can’t wait to see if he goes down. I’m already spinning back to my original course. Through the throngs of bodies, I catch glimpses of him on the ground. Someone is leaning over him.
Someone is there already. Someone is already saving him. Please. Please. Please.
Just as it feels like we’re finally making progress, another wave of bodies crashes into us.
I reach for Isabella, but she’s swept away in the surge, dragging Cas with her.
“Mia!” Isabella’s voice is already distant.
I don’t have a choice. I can’t spare the time to follow them, not now. I have to get to him. I won’t stop. Not until I reach him.
I fight my way through the crowd, but it’s so much harder now that I’m doing it alone. Why was he so far away? Why had I let him go?
Every step feels like I’m being dragged deeper into a nightmare. The floor feels slick underfoot, and I’m dizzy from the ring of gunfire and a scream that I think is coming from me.
Then suddenly, I’m yanked backward out of the fray.
Unfamiliar hands roughly pull me to one side. My breath catches in my throat, and I spin, lashing out.
My fist connects with someone’s jaw with a satisfying crunch. But I can’t celebrate before another set of hands snatches at my wrists, pinning them behind my back.
Two men wrestle me into submission as I fight for my life. I’m thrashing and struggling in a way I never knew I was capable of as my arms are bound tight.
The sharp pressure of an arm around my neck forces the air from my lungs, and I fight against the suffocating grip. I twist, trying to break free, but my strength is slipping away, the black spots creeping into my vision.
And then, just as I think I can’t take it anymore—when the fight starts to drain from me—I hear a voice.
“Mia!”
The voice is familiar, the deep rumble of it something I’ve heard countless times before. I thrash against my restraints so that I can see my savior approaching.
“Max,” I gasp, my chest heaving. “Help!”
But the man approaches slowly, unhurried by the situation. At first, I thought he might be weighing up my would-be-kidnappers. But they don’t go for him either.
Instead, he leans over me, a curious expression on his face. “You’re a hard woman to kidnap, Mrs. Natali.”
The shock of his words is undermined by the pure adrenaline running through my veins. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Let me go!”
He pulls something from his pocket. I brace for a knife, but it’s something altogether more sinister. A syringe.
“The kind of man who isn’t going to take any chances with a firecracker like you,” he says as he flicks the thin, glass tool and levels it to my neck.
