Page 143 of Savage Surrender

He gets the hood off, rolls onto his side, and hooks two fingers beneath the insole of his shoe. A thin knife slides into his palm. He cuts through the rope around his ankles, reaches into the other shoe, and comes up with a second blade before my father notices and raises his gun.

The knife flies through the air and sinks into Vincent’s forearm. His fingers open, and the gun hits the floor.

Ezra snaps the second blade across the concrete. It spins behind me and stops against my bound hand. Then he’s on my father.

Ezra barely puts weight on his left leg, but his palm drives beneath Vincent’s chin before Vincent can reset. He turns, catches the injured arm, and slams my father into one of the heavy wooden posts.

The old beam shudders above us.

I get two fingers around the knife. It slips in my blood and nearly cuts the tip off one before I turn it. The blade finally catches rope. My father tears his wounded arm free and shoves Ezra hard. Ezra’s bad leg buckles, but he catches Vincent behind the knee and drags him down too.

I saw and yank at the ropes until one hand comes free. The next one is easier.

I cut the tie at my ankles and lunge toward them before my feet are under me.

Tristan is closest. I drop behind him and cut through the rope at his wrists, then his ankles. His first free breath catches against whatever Alexander did to his ribs, but he crawls toward Weller and pulls him onto his side so I can reach the knots.

“Move your hand,” I tell him.

Weller flattens his palm. The knife goes through the last rope.

A body grunts behind me.

Ezra.

My father has him by the throat, the knife still buried in his forearm. Ezra’s boots scrape uselessly over the concrete.

I hit my father from the side.

He releases Ezra, and I get both arms around his waist before he can turn. My feet are still numb from the ropes, but I drive anyway. His heel catches loose rope, and he goes down with me on top of him.

Ezra drops and drags himself clear while I wrench Vincent’s wounded arm behind him and put my weight into it.

My father grunts, then slams the back of his head into my mouth. My grip slips, and he turns, but I catch his shirt and keep him on me, away from Ezra and the gun.

The side-office door bangs open.

“Security,” William demands. “Get in here.”

The doorway stays empty.

You sent them all to hunt my omega, you fucking idiots.

Ezra crawls toward the roll-up door while Alexander moves for the medical case and William sees the gun.

Vincent swings his good arm back at my head. I force it wide and get my shoulder under his chest before he can throw me off.

Weller and William move together, but Weller is already closer. He gets one hand around the gun and rolls onto his back as William reaches him.

“Put it down.” William’s voice is level.

Weller’s arm jerks, but he doesn’t release it.

Vincent twists beneath me, trying to tear free. Pain snaps through my shoulder, but I keep him down.

“You have caused enough damage,” William says.

Weller’s hand shakes around the grip as his father’s fingers close around the barrel. Weller lets him take hold, but he doesn’t loosen his own grip.