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She darted to the corner of the building, praying none of the men saw her. The ledge was far skinnier than it had looked. Half the length of her foot at its widest spot—a generous assessment.
Jamming her body against the warehouse, she glanced at the battle in front of her. She couldn’t tell one side from the other—only hear the grunts and screams, only see the blades flashing under the scant light of the street lanterns and light from the interiors of the surrounding buildings.
A dagger flew through the air, imbedding into a wood plank an inch from her left pinky. A man followed it, slamming into the building and falling into the muck of the street just to the left of her feet. Too close.
She looked up. Reiner.
He hadn’t seen her, already turning back into the battle, his eyes hungry for the next attack. The man did look like a wolf stalking his prey. Maybe there was something to the Wolf Duke epithet.
Her look darted from the battle to the stone ledge just beyond her toes.
She’d sworn from heaven to hell to Logan that she would stay safe in the ship, far away from being seen and from whatever may happen. And then she’d sworn the same thing to Reiner. Then she’d sworn the same thing to Sienna and Rory.
The least she could do was avoid the swinging swords.
For she was going after Roe, no matter what.
{ Chapter 20 }
Torrie jumped to the ledge of the foundation, her toes landing on the stones and her fingernails digging into the rough wood planks that lined the wall. Flattening herself against the building, she attempted to calm her breath. Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle to the right.
Her left foot slipped, her toes losing grip on the crumbling stone ledge. She yanked her left foot up, squashing as hard as she could into the wood planks.
Balance stable, she set her left toes back on the ledge and continued to shuffle, dragging smaller steps across the stone. Seconds later, she reached the window.
Closed.
Blast.
She tugged the bottom of the sash up. Damn. It didn’t budge.
Swearing to herself, she twisted her hand down to the top band of her skirt and yanked free the pistol Logan had insisted she keep on her person once they had tied to the pier. She’d never broken through glass before, but there was a first time for everything. How hard could it be?
She drew her elbow back and sent the butt of the pistol flying forward. It banged into the glass, coming to a dead stop.
Apparently, harder than she imagined.
Pain vibrated up her arm and she ignored it, fury at the uncooperative glass sending her wrist back and the butt of the gun flying once more.
The glass shattered this time, spraying in all directions, into the pores of her face, cuts slicing across the back of her hand.
No matter.
She knocked out the rest of the glass hanging stubbornly to the windowpane with the barrel of the gun.
After tucking the pistol back into the waistband of her skirt, her arms went inward and she clutched onto the molding lining the bottom of the glass, then yanked herself into the interior.
She landed with a grunt in a heap on the floor. Staying in a ball on the dusty boards, she popped her head up, looking about the interior of the wide room.
For all the noise outside, the inside of the building sat eerily quiet.
Barrels and crates snaked out in rows across the large room.
But not a sound in the cavernous space.
She was sure she saw Roe being dragged inside.
She stood, moving to her right and staying in the shadows that side of the warehouse afforded her, far from the line of hanging lanterns by the sliding doors. With each row of crates and barrels she passed, she searched. No men hiding amongst them. No bodies.
