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I kick the door with everything I have, knocking the cheap lock open just as Rialta screams again.
I’m going to murder whoever is hurting her. But then I see her.
Her wrists are bound together with rope, yanked above her head, and secured to the post behind her. She’s slumped on the floor, and there’s a cut across her cheek and another on the underside of her arm.
Knife wounds.
My eyes flick to the man holding the knife, the man hurting my wife.
Beckett.
I thought he was my friend. He’s a man I’ve saved and protected—risking my own life to do so. But I don’t care who he was to me; he’s a dead man now.
I don’t have a gun, a weapon, or enough blood in my body to keep me alive much longer. He has a knife and most likely a gun, but I’m intent on killing him.
Until I see Beckett’s face. His is as murderous as mine, but my brain can’t process why. All I see is red.
Rialta whimpers, bringing my attention back to her and away from Beckett.
She’s in pain, and I’m going to stop this right now. I need my hands on her more than I need to kill Beckett.
“Knife,” I say, holding out my hand to Beckett.
I don’t know what he’s going to do. I don’t know why we both want to kill each other. But I hope that everything we’ve been through will keep him from doing something stupid.
He hesitates, not moving.
“She’s my wife,” I growl.
Beckett looks at me, really looks, like he’s trying to understand me. Whatever he sees looks like disappointment. He shakes his head in refusal. I guess we are going to have this fight after all.
But then he hands me the knife.
I turn and rush to Rialta, beginning to saw apart the ropes binding her.
She doesn’t say anything.
I don’t either.
Finally, the last of the ropes come loose, and I pull her wrists free.
Our eyes connect in uncertainty. Neither of us knows who the other is any more or where we stand with each other. All I know is I love her. I was wrong before. She’s my soulmate, and just looking at her is like looking into heaven.
I scoop her into my arms.
“Lennox, you shouldn’t—” she starts.
I glare at her, and she shuts up as I lift her. I don’t know where I’m taking her, just that I’m going to find somewhere safe.
Beckett steps in front of the open doorway.
“Move,” I growl.
He looks from me to her with venom in his eyes. Upon closer inspection, I see the venom is hiding tears threatening to escape.
I hold my breath, knowing the next words that leave his mouth are going to fucking hurt.
“Take her wherever you want. I can’t stand the sight of her anymore. Do what you want with her; I won’t stop you. But know who she is.”
