Page 39 of Barinov

Tick-tock, Whitmore. Go pick your art.

Silence drops heavily in the room.

I tentatively creep toward the canvas.

“Don’t touch it, Cade!” Nate’s voice rings in my ear. He’s watching through the button camera he attached to my shirt. “Check for any type of trap or sensor first.”

I slow my steps, eyes sweeping the floor, the easel, and the color wheel of paints beneath it.

“You should have let me go in there,” Laing’s smug voice carries through. “This reeks of a kill box.”

“I don’t see anything,” I say into my mic, moving toward the russet leather sketchbook. Same thing. Cold leather binding. Heavy paper with a lonely sharpened pencil waiting on top.

“Clock’s ticking, baby,” Luca’s intimate voice croons over the speakers. “Don’t make her pay for your delay.”

“Just pick one, babe,” Lex orders.

I reach down and snatch up the sketchbook. The moment my fingers brush the leather, the hinge of Bella’s door groans and a long shadow stretches across the floorboards.

“What is going on?” Lex asks, his eyes closing in on the screen as Zeke steps into the light.

“Z-Zeke?” Bella stutters, taking a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Get on the bed, Bells,” Zeke orders as his hands reach for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it off in one swift motion.

“Jesus Christ,” Roman mumbles, leaning against the table. “What did he do to him?”

I gape in horror at the road map of violence painted across Zeke’s back. A crisscrossing web of thick plum-colored scars. High on his left shoulder there’s a puckered starburst from where a bullet once tore through his flesh.

The front must be a grisly echo of his back because Bella’s eyes widen as she tracks the damage in stunned silence.

“My God, what happened to you?” she croaks.

Zeke crosses the room in two long strides. “I said.” He closes the last bit of space between them, unbuckling his belt. “Get on the bed.”

“No chance in hell,” she spits. Her hand flashes out and cracks him right across the cheek.

“That’s our girl,” Lex says. “Kick his ass, baby.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Zeke laughs, tilting his head. “Guess we’re doin’ this the hard way.” He lifts her with one muscular arm and throws her on to the bed.

Lex flies off the handle beside me. “What the fuck is he doing?!”

The bed creaks under their weight as he climbs up on top of her. She claws at his arms and face, drawing blood.

It doesn’t faze him.

He grabs her by the forearm and pins her back down. She buckles under him, a sharp wail escaping her as he grips tighter.

“Stop fucking fighting it, Bells.”

“If I were you, Whitmore,” Luca’s voice bleeds through. “I’d get to sketching. He’s been instructed not to stop until I’m satisfied with your work.”

I freeze, watching Zeke pull up the white silk sheet around them.

“Fucking go, Cade!” Lex shouts. “DRAW!”

“I… I’m supposed to sketch him, but he’s…” My voice falters. “Lex, I can’t.”