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They grab me before I can fully process what’s going on. Two men in campus security uniforms yank me from the desk. My phone topples to the floor, the screen cracking. It takes me a full minute to recognize the men who’d snatched me.
They were the same Russians who’d grabbed me that first night outside the club.
I scream, thrashing in their arms as I try to free myself. It’s no use. They’re a hell of a lot stronger than I am. My eyes snag on my tote where my concealed comb-knife is tucked away, but there’s no possible way to actually get to it. I’m utterly defenseless. Especially since I’d told my fucking bodyguards to wait outside the building.
Screaming again, I try to kick back at the men hauling me towards the door. If they’d wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. Clearly, they need me alive. But it’s not like I’m going to make it easy on them. My foot kicks back, smacking against one of the guard’s knees. He cries out but doesn’t let go, his grip around my arm like fucking iron.
I kick again. And again. Twisting and dropping my weight to the floor to make them work for it. But my weight doesn’t seem to be a problem for these two brutes. They pick me up, the man I kicked hobbling towards the door now. I lash out again, aiming for his knee a fourth time.
He swears, dropping me. I try and scramble away, clawing at the second man’s face. He snarls as my nails drag down his skin, drawing blood. I jerk backward, his hands flying towards his face to give me a second’s worth of freedom.
The seconds pass.
Just as I try to run towards the door, I’m grabbed again. This time, the first man’s fingers fist my hair, yanking me back. My neck snaps, pain radiating down my spine as I cry out. Fire burns through me, adrenaline pumping through my veins. My vision blurs with pain as I try and claw at the man’s hands still tangled in my hair. More pain lances through my skull at his tugging as he yanks me back to his chest.
A weapon.
I need a fucking weapon.
Blinking away the tears, I try to think through the chaos. If they’re Bratva, they’ll have their guns on them. Especially in these stupid uniforms. My eyes land on the belt of the second guy, who’s still too busy pressing a bloody hand to his eye. His gun rests in the holder at his side, still clipped in. The guy holding me has to have the same. If I can just get my hands on that…
I twist to the side, my elbow dropping and driving backward straight into his balls. He cries out, letting go of my hair just long enough for me to lunge towards the gun at his hip. The button snaps free, and I tug the weapon loose, clicking back the safety.
God, I fucking hope this thing is actually loaded.
I don’t even bother taking aim this close. The shot goes off, the bullet lodging in the man’s chest. His scream cuts short as his body hits the floor. The second guy is scrambling for his own gun, the button catching. He doesn’t have a fucking chance as I take aim. This time, the bullet goes through his skull.
My fingers shake as I let my arms fall. Hazily, I know I have to get out of here, but I feel so disoriented, I can’t even remember which way I’m supposed to fucking go. I snatch my phone from the desk, leaving everything else behind as I bolt out the door.
Left or right. I can’t think straight. Blindly, I take a left, my mind too scattered to help me at the moment. I stumble down the hallway, the gun clutched in one hand, my phone in the other. I know I should call someone…but I need to get out of here first. Who knows how many more men the Bratva had sent to kidnap me. It takes me a while to realize that the corridors are just as empty as my classroom. There’s no one else here.
No one else to help me.
A sob rips through me, tears pricking my eyes from the pain and fear. I have to get out. I have to—
I slam into a brick wall just as I round the corner. Except…it’s not a brick wall. It’s a chest. Gasping, I wrench myself away, bringing up the gun. Before I can pull the trigger, Killian’s voice breaks through the tangled thoughts in my head.
“Cara! It’s me. Don’t shoot!” His hand curls around the barrel, forcing it down before I can actually shoot him.
“Killian—” I finally break down, tears trekking down my cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see him. A twinge of relief washes through me, nearly making me drop the gun, but his hand tightens, keeping it in my hands.
“Do you know how to shoot?” He glances over my shoulder, checking to see if the coast is clear.
I nod, feeling numb. “I—The two guys who grabbed me—”
Somehow, he seems to understand the nonsense. Nodding, he tugs me behind him, leading me back the way I’d come. I guess I’d chosen the wrong direction after all. Or the right one depending on how you looked at it.
“We can’t go out the front,” he tells me quietly. “The building’s surrounded. I’m not sure how many are out there right now or how far away Dante is.”
“Dante’s coming?” Another wave of relief.
“Eventually.” Killian tucks me against the wall as he weighs our options. “Is there another side door?”
I try to think. I really do. But everything is hazy, my mind going numb. It takes me a few seconds, but I finally remember another side door. I nod weakly. “Through the theater. Behind the stage. It leads out onto the street on the other side.”
Killian checks the door labels. “This way?”
I nod again. He motions for me to follow, pulling his gun up as he heads towards the theater’s doors. They’re unlocked, allowing us to slip inside. The lights are off, bathing the entire theater in darkness and shadows. Killian checks to see if it’s clear before allowing me to follow him down the lanes towards the stage. The heavy red curtains are drawn back, leaving the flat surface bare. Our footsteps are too loud against the silence, echoing around the empty theater, each beat in tune with my thudding heart.
