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The man fell to his knees between my legs and my vision tunneled. In a moment, I was back in that garden. Held down and defenseless.
No, please, not again.
With the last ounce of strength, I kicked hard and caught him in the stomach. He grunted and his hand came down on my ankle, pinning it to the ground. From his pocket he pulled a thick rope and he bound my legs together faster than I realized what he was doing.
I stopped struggling, confused. What was he doing if he wasn’t going to violate me? Was he kidnapping me?
His eyes flicked up and we both froze. From the other side of the boys’ door I heard a scuffle. His head cocked.
No, he wasn’t getting to my children. Rage gave me the adrenaline I needed to flip my body onto my stomach. My nails scrabbled against the floorboards. Pain shot through my hand as two snapped and ripped free of my fingertips.
Pain had me lightheaded. He caught my foot, holding me in place. Writhing, I struck out with my bloody fist, but my arm barely moved.
It felt like I’d lost all the bones in my body. My vision filled with darkness and my muscles gave out. My entire body sank down into the floorboards. Like I was melting.
He’d drugged me. That pricking sensation had been a needle. I felt it trickling in my veins. Like ice ebbing through my limbs.
My lashes fluttered, wet with blood.
This wasn’t the end. If I died and my children lived, I could make peace with that.
But if they hurt my sons, no coffin would hold me below the ground.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUCIEN
Peregrine and I left the downtown office in the middle of the morning. My eyes smarted from staring at paperwork and I was eager to get home. Other than this meeting, I didn’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day. I was planning on getting back and spending the day with my sons and the evening with my wife.
Peregrine and I slid into the back seat of his car just as my phone rang. I swiped the screen and Marco’s name appeared.
Fuck. No.
“Marco,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm. “What is it?”
“Hey, dad,” he said, his voice shaky. “Something’s wrong.”
My whole body tingled, on high alert. “What—what’s wrong? Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s just…mom usually locks our doors at night and unlocks them before breakfast and she hasn’t unlocked them.”
My mind raced and I lowered the phone, leaning towards the driver.
“Get me home. Now,” I ordered.
Peregrine’s brow creased and I tapped the speaker button.
“Okay, Marco, do you have your brothers with you?” I asked, my voice steady. By some miracle.
“Yeah, I changed the twins and Hugo’s watching TV,” he said. He gave a short hiccup. “Dad…something’s wrong. It smells weird and the alarm is going off in the living room. I can’t go turn it off, I can’t get out.”
I struck the back of the seat, knuckles white. “Hurry,” I barked at the driver. “Okay, Marco, take everyone into the bathroom and shut the door. Lock it from the inside, get into the tub and stay there. Do not—don’t leave the room. Understood?”
“Yes, I can do that,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “Hey, Marco, stay on the line,” I said. “Turn the phone on speaker and put it in your pocket so I can talk to you while you gather your brothers.”
I heard the phone scuffle and the twins sniffled in the background. My heart wrenched. The driver flew through the city and out into the country. Peregrine’s jaw was grim as he leaned across the seat and pulled the compartment above us down to reveal a pair of rifles. Gripping one in my hand, I kept Marco on the line, trying to soothe him, as we turned onto the highway and off again.
