Page 43 of Barinov

I duck a right hook. It whistles past my ear. I counter and bury my elbow into Zeke’s jaw. His head snaps sideways, spraying flecks of red all over the floor.

Through the gore, the bastard actually laughs. “You should’ve got here sooner,” he sneers, spitting blood at my boots. “We’d have loved for you to join us.”

Red-hot rage floods my vision.

I tackle him and take us both to the ground. We crash into Bella’s nightstand. It splinters beneath our weight. I mount him and let the rage free, my fists raining down—face, throat, chest. Every punch fueled by Bella’s screams. By the sound of her begging. And by the fucking look on her face when she thought she was alone.

“Stay the fuck down!” I roar.

He bucks beneath me, stronger than I thought he’d be. His long fingers dig into my sides. The dick slams his knee up into my ribs. Pain flares as he twists, rolling us over until he’s on top.

His hands close around my throat. My vision darkens at the edges.

“She’s mine,” he says, leaning in close. His breath is hot and coppery. “I won’t let you take her from me.”

An ice-cold chill explodes across my stomach as the metal slides in deep. I look down just in time to see red bloom across my white shirt. A vicious, blinding pain hits a second later.

I jerk awake with a strangled gasp.

Long, dark fingers adorned with golden rings grip my arm. “Shh, l’ombre,” a soft voice murmurs. “You’re alright, for it was only a bad dream.”

“No,” I rasp, sweat coating my brow. I check my phone. 11:11 p.m. I rest my head against the window. “I’m not alright, Sabine.”

I barely remember walking out of that damn forest. Or getting onboard Sky Daddy’s plane.

I remember the moment when Zeke left the room. The door closing. The screen going black. That sketch still sitting there in Cade’s trembling hands like it was radioactive.

Everything’s a bit of a blur after that.

Khoza came at me first. I know that because I remember his massive shadow crossing the doorway. His mouth moved and words came out. I couldn’t tell you a single thing the guy said. It was like my ears stopped working. Like someone packed my skull with cotton and sealed it tight.

Briggs and Laing came in next. I remember Laing shouting into the comms. Briggs asking questions. Roman answering them—at least, I think he was. I saw Roman gesturing around, his face twisted with something that might have been fear.

Maybe.

None of it landed.

I couldn’t hear shit except the sound of our girl in my head. Screaming, crying, and pleading for that fucker to get off of her.

The only thing I could think about was how I couldn’t protect her.

Or Cade.

How I could only stand there and watch as my boyfriend shook so hard he could barely hold the damn pencil while he tried to draw Zeke on top of our girl.

I remember the DING.

The message.

@LucaWasHere

You did so well, Whitmore, steady and true.

Such pretty lines born from panic and you.

My first little treasure, raw fear turned to art.

I think I’ll hang it somewhere close to my heart.