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Dread washed through me as I eyed the bodies of the kitchen staff. There was no way Marianne had killed them. My heart beat in my chest at a rapid-fire pace, bouncing against my rib cage.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Was she returning me to Kellan? The scars he’d left on my body ached at the thought of being at his mercy again. I’d narrowly avoided being raped by him. I wouldn’t survive him like my mother had survived Elias. I wasn’t that strong.
“Finally. Took you long enough.”
Ugh. I was trying to decide whether this was a better or worse predicament than I imagined. Brightside, it wasn’t Kellan. Instead, Christian waited for us as we exited the heavy metal door that led to the alley between the buildings. He was lounging against the wrought-iron fence that kept the homeless out at night, looking pleased with himself.
“Things got chatty in there,” Marianne told him as she shoved me into his waiting arms. “Hopefully, your men are good at pest control.”
Christian smirked. “They’re excellent.”
I may have snorted at that statement.
He glared down at me dispassionately but turned his attention quickly back to Marianne. “Everything has been transferred. There is a private jet waiting to take you wherever you want to go.”
Marianne nodded, her cold eyes shifting to mine. It looked like she wanted to say something, but instead chose to bite her lip and run off like the coward she was. If she thought she could hide, she had another thing coming.
“Let’s go,” Christian commanded, taking my wrist in a bruising grip. Fuck that. I had learned a lot since my time with him, and I wasn’t about to be his fucking bitch anymore. I took a small step back, keeping some distance between us, and twisted my arm to the inside before shoving it forward and catching him off guard. Christian faltered, stumbling backward slightly, giving me just enough room to bring my foot up to connect with his groin.
Growling, he pivoted at the last second, and my foot caught the inside of his thigh instead. His hand caught my ankle and pulled. The breath whooshed from my lungs when I hit the concrete, and I struggled to take in air.
“Fucking bitch.” He got to his feet and towered over me. “Still haven’t learned your fucking lesson.”
“Fuck you.” The words came out slightly croaked, but it got my sentiment across. Christian laughed cruelly.
“Oh, I’m going to, little lamb,” he taunted. “You just wait.”
Movement behind him caught my attention. It was a lithe figure clad in black, stealthily moving among the shadows. Christian was a fool to be out here by himself with no backup. Not that it mattered. No one could stop what was coming, and god help anyone who tried.
I let out a breathy laugh and waited.
“You think this is funny?” he snapped, his hand coming down to slap me across the face. Christian never saw it coming. The knife slid across his throat like butter on toast. His eyes bulged from his head, hands clutching at his bleeding throat as he sank to his knees. It didn’t take long for him to bleed out, his body hitting the ground with a cold thump.
“Certainly funny now.”
A gloved hand entered my vision, and I took it, groaning as it assisted me to my feet. Shaking my hair from my face, I stared into the azure eyes of my sister.
“You always find yourself in the worst predicaments,” she teased. I scoffed and waved my hand dismissively.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said primly. “Unlike you, I am not some badass ninja.”
“Assassin,” she corrected.
I shrugged. “Same thing.” We laughed, the sound pure and untainted, even with Christian’s blood seeping into the cracks of the alley. “What are we going to do about him?”
“Bonfire?” Kenzi suggested. “I read about a lady who roasted marshmallows over the man who tortured her.”
What the fuck? That was the look I sent her too.
“Is this a real lady or one of your imaginary friends?” I questioned. Kenzi shot me a glare.
“It was in a book I read.”
“So an imaginary friend.”
“Where do you get imaginary from?”
