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“Get off me!”

My voice disappeared beneath the noise around me. Someone grabbed the back of my coat while another man reached through the window and caught my wrist. I fought harder, kicking against the door and trying to make noise so that someone nearby would notice what was happening.

Nobody came. A car passed through the intersection without stopping. The realization sent a wave of panic through me. They’d chosen this location carefully.

One of the men reached into the car and grabbed my shoulder. I drove my elbow backward, catching him near the chest. I held on to the steering wheel with both hands. I had no idea why I was doing it. There was nowhere for me to go.

One of them shouted something I couldn’t understand. Suddenly, several hands were pulling me in different directions. My fingers slipped from the steering wheel as they dragged me across the seat. I kicked at whoever was closest. Another hand caught my ankle.

Then something struck the side of my head. Pain exploded through my skull. For a second, everything went white. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled out of the car. My knees struck the pavement. I tried to push myself upright, but the ground tilted beneath me.

I heard voices around me. They sounded distant. One of the men moved away. Pulled out a phone. He spoke rapidly. The language took me several seconds to recognize.

Russian. They weren’t Ronan’s men! If this wasn’t Ronan, then who’d been following me? That thought frightened me more than anything.

Someone grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. My legs barely held me. I stumbled against him. I tried to pull away, but my body wasn’t responding properly anymore.

“Please,” I managed to say, although I wasn’t even sure who I was speaking to.

My head was ringing so loudly that the words seemed to come from underwater. I caught pieces of the conversation, but then one name reached me clearly enough to cut through everything else.

Ronan. My heart seemed to stop. The man continued speaking into the phone.

“...O’Connor.”

Ronan O’Connor.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ronan

During my meeting with three senior members of the syndicate, Trevor walked into the room without bothering to knock. That alone should have prompted me to be angry with him.

No one knew better than Trevor that I hated interruptions. He knew that whatever was on his mind, even if critical, could wait.

He crossed the room urgently, stopping at my side. He bent down and spoke low enough that none of the others could hear his whisper.

“Sofia has been taken.”

At first, the words didn’t register with me. They floated around in the silence of my mind before reality hit me in the face.

I stood so fast that my chair clattered to the floor behind me. “What?”

“She was targeted just a few moments ago,” Trevor explained. “Some cars boxed her in. Her car was found empty at the intersection. Eyewitnesses say two men pulled her out.”

The meeting was dead silent. Every eye in the room was fixed on me, and I barely noticed it.

“Where?”

“We’re tracking the cars now,” Trevor said.

I turned and walked out of the conference room, Trevor right behind me. My mind reeled, my hands itching to spill blood. Red clouded my vision. Sofia was taken. The phrase spun over and over in my head.

I’d spent the last week telling myself that distance would protect Sofia. That not getting involved was the only way to keep her safe. How incredibly wrong that had been!

Trevor’s phone rang, and he quickly answered it.

“They’re checking traffic cameras and all local security feeds for that area. Working on narrowing the direction of the cars right now.”