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She’d told Diaz that was her code word to use so he’d know she sent the message. He’d looked to his brother and in that moment, Anna knew Jackson was right—Dominic called the shots. And she hated Diaz for that. He was weak, pathetic, and he’d fooled her all these years. If she’d been watching Dominic, she would’ve gotten to the bottom of this sooner. But that was exactly why the brothers had pretended they were estranged. All the focus had been on Diaz and no one, herself included, had been watching what Dominic was up to.
No one but Olivia.
Anna forced her eyes open. She would not go down without a fight.
She looked over her shoulder at where Dominic had been standing, with a smile on his face as he’d watched her half die, she imagined. But he was gone.
She looked around, seeing that only Rowan and Diaz remained.
But she could hear voices. Screaming and shouting.
“Find him!”
She frowned.
He must’ve gotten up. He wasn’t dead.
Her eyes landed on Diaz, who was looking at the upper level, his forehead creased, his eyes narrowed. His confident smirk was gone.
Anna fought against the restraints, but she could barely wiggle her hands, let alone get them free.
She looked to the ground, but there was nothing she could use to cut the rope. She looked up, but the pole attached to the ceiling.
She held in the sob that threatened to slip through her lips.
Damn you, she thought. She wondered if Jackson was still praying to his God, still trusting him, still believing their story would end differently.
Anna hated the bitterness in her chest, the resentment of the things she’d had to endure in life. She’d learned a long time ago that self-pity got you nowhere.
Action, however, moved mountains.
Anna wriggled again, but the ropes only cut deeper.
Her hope rose and fell with every passing second.
Then everything went black and she felt the energy shift in the plant as everything went silent.
“Hold her!” Diaz commanded, but it sounded like he was farther away from her than he had been.
It was so dark Anna couldn’t see her own feet, and as she struggled, a hand grabbed her hair.
She was sick of people pulling her hair tonight.
She wanted to headbutt him, but she didn’t know where he was and if she hit the pole, she’d possibly give herself a mild concussion. That was the last thing she needed on top of everything else she’d already endured.
Gun shots rang through the plant and Anna tried to follow the sounds, trying to make sense of where they were coming from. But it was impossible to track, and there were too many shots being fired.
Shouting at the other end of the plant drew her attention and she desperately wished she could see.
With every second that passed, she alternated between feeling hopeful and hopeless.
It sounded like a full-blown war was taking place and Anna didn’t see how Jackson could win. He needed a team.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, she paused. Maybe he did have a team. Maybe they had cut the power.
Hope riled through her veins like magic.
She thought of the man behind her, his hand still wrapped in her hair.
