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Samir kneed Rafe in the balls. “Enculé.” Motherfucker.
Rafe grunted and doubled over. Samir and the two soldiers hauled him through the door and down the hall.
The air whooshed out of my lungs.
It was a nightmarish repeat of two years ago, only worse. Rafe was outnumbered, hurting—and I could do nothing to help. And this time, he’d not only been beaten, he’d end up locked in a cell, too.
No.
A silent scream started in my chest and spread to my throat, my head, vibrating in my nerves and pressing against my lungs until I thought I’d suffocate if I didn’t release it.
No no nooo…
I bucked in Jean-Michel’s grip, desperately trying to get away so I could go to Rafe.
“Calm down,” the old soldier gritted.
But I was no longer rational. I slammed my head backward, aiming at his nose, but he managed to jerk back in time so I connected with his chin instead. The shock of the impact exploded through my brain, but I ignored it to keep struggling. He snarled and wrapped me in a bear hug, trapping my arms against my sides. I kicked back, digging my boot heel into his shin.
“Calm yourself, damn it.” He dropped his voice to subvocal level. “You’re just giving them ammunition.”
“Let. Me. Go.” I fought harder.
“You want him to suffer? Because if Victorine sees how much you want him—”
That got through to me. I stilled, even though I wanted to go to Rafe so bad I could taste it. But Jean-Michel was right. The more I protested, the more incentive I gave Victorine to hurt him.
Philippe jerked his chin at the remaining soldiers. “Leave. The thralls, too.”
They cleared the salon, leaving just me, him, Victorine and Jean-Michel—and Lainey Q.
“That’s it,” Jean-Michel said. “Compose yourself. You’re his only chance,” he added under his breath. “Pretend to go along with them. It’s the only way you can save him.”
I hesitated. Was the bodyguard on our side? Or simply trying to get me under control? But it didn’t matter because, once again, he was right. I was Rafe’s only chance. I’d already let Victorine see too much.
I couldn’t fight all three of them—Philippe, Victorine, Jean-Michel. I needed to calm down, come up with a plan.
“Zoe?” asked Jean-Michel.
I dipped my chin. “I’m okay. You can let me go.”
“All right.” Jean-Michel released one of my arms but kept a firm grip on the other.
Off to the side, Lainey Q had remained in the salon, watching.
I eyed her. She must have Victorine and Philippe’s trust, or else she’d have been removed with the other humans.
A slayer.
I shook my head from side to side.
“Where do you want Zoe?” Jean-Michel asked Philippe.
So I was a prisoner, too. I was still reeling at how fast everything had gone south when Victorine wrenched free of Philippe and grabbed my throat.
“I warned you what would happen if you saw Kral again. I willnotlose you to a half-breed bastard. And now Étan is in his final grave.” She shook me by the throat. “Because of you.”
I pressed my lips together. I’d never seen her so angry. My first instinct was to apologize, to make her happy at any cost. Old habits are hard to break.
