Page 67 of Cash

Knowing that Zane would have my back, I ran through the kitchenette into what I knew was the rec room—however, there was no pool table or arcade games. The space was empty, save the blue tarps covering the flooring. An overpowering odor of rubbing alcohol lingered in the air.

Two people were grappling in the middle of the room.

Lore was on her side, back facing away from me, her strong thighs wrapped around a man’s neck, one hand in his hair and the other on his chin.

And she was topless.

Fury punched through me.

Lore jerked the man’s head, using her body as leverage, and with a vicious twist she broke his neck.

I rushed forward just as Lore let go and slumped to her back. Her howl of agony made my insides revolt.

Zane yanked the man off of Lore.

I dropped to my knees to assess the damage. Bruises were already forming on her throat, chest, and shoulders. Thank fuck there were no stab wounds or GSWs.

Suddenly her back bowed and she cried out in pain again.

“Open your eyes, Lore.”

No response.

My hand went to her throat. A slow, weak pulse thumped under my fingers.

“Baby, open your eyes,” I begged.

“Basement’s clear,” Zane quietly said. “Grab her and let’s go.”

Through a haze of fear and fury, I swooped up Lore’s limp body, rolling her chest toward mine to cover her naked breasts.

“Fuck,” Zane growled.

My gaze immediately scanned the room looking for threats. When there were none, I glanced at Zane. His eyes were glued to Stella’s back.

“Seven, call Dr. Spenser, have him meet us at the office,” Zane grunted.

“Copy that.” Kira came back.

I glanced down at the woman in my arms and that’s when it hit me—the smell of alcohol mixed with the coppery scent of blood. And there was blood, a lot of fucking blood, flowing out of a mess of gashes and cuts—so many of them I couldn’t see any uninjured skin.

“Package secure,” Zane continued. “Call the others back.”

His angry, glittering eyes hit mine.

The Snake had awakened.

But so had the King, and someone would die for daring to touch my queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“These stitches will need to be removed in two weeks,” Dr. Spenser said, removing his gloves. “The bandages need to stay dry and be changed in forty-eight hours. After that she can shower. Someone will need to clean the wounds.”

Me.

I’d be the one cleaning Stella’s wounds.

The doctor continued to drone about wound care, not that I needed the instructions—I’d had enough stitches, staples, and gashes glued shut to know the protocol—which was good seeing as the roaring in my ears had drown out what was being said.