“Sam’s talking to them. He told me to call you.”
“I’m on my way. Less than ten minutes.”
“Hurry.”
Uncle Lyle says something to Sam, his expression a menacing scowl. Sam shakes his head. Uncle Lyle spits on the ground. Says something else. Sam shakes his head again.
And that’s when it happens. Everyone draws their guns.
A gasp escapes past my lips.
“Blake?” Rowan’s voice feels as if it’s coming from far away.
Four against one. Those aren’t good odds.
Two of the men pounce on Sam, disarming him within seconds.
“They’re fighting.”
“Shit. Okay, don’t hang up. Stay with me.”
I’ve never heard Rowan sound so scared.
“They’re hurting him.” My face is wet. The two men are kicking Sam. He's trying to fight back, but he’s outnumbered. Uncle Lyle watches his men beat Sam for a few moments before his gaze slides toward the house.
“He’s coming here,” I breathe.
“Blake, I’m five minutes away.”
Five minutes is too long, because only seconds later, the doorknob rattles.
I take a step back. Then another.
Something hard slams against the door. Again. And again. Until it bursts open.
My phone falls out of my hand.
Uncle Lyle walks in, his men trailing behind him, two of them dragging Sam. He’s got blood dripping down his face.
“Blakey girl.” My godfather smiles at me. It’s the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.
That’s when I remember I’m holding a knife.
I don’t think as I run toward Uncle Lyle, slashing my knife at him, but before I know what’s happening, I’m on my back and pain is exploding through the back of my skull.
Sam screams something. I go in and out, my vision blurry.
One blink, I’m on the floor.
The next one, I’m on my knees beside Sam right in the middle of the hallway. My arms are bound.
“Blake?”
I moan in response, trying to keep my body from falling back down. I can’t seem to hold onto a thought.
Sam’s shoulder bumps against mine. He slides something into my hands—his car keys.
Does he want me to try to run to his car? I can’t. There’s no way for me to get past my godfather’s men. They’re blocking the door.
