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I spin, ready to retaliate, but the room blurs into a chaotic whirlwind of fists and grunts. My cheekbone erupts in pain as another blow lands, and then my legs buckle from a hit that feels like a sledgehammer. I can't tell who's who anymore—the world is just shadows and violence.
The space is too confined, my attackers too many. I'm a caged animal, but one with broken claws. I feel hands clamp onto my arms like vices, pinning them behind me. The back of my head is suddenly exposed, an open invitation that one of the men accepts with a brutal punch.
My skull rings with the impact. My vision tunnels, each strike another blow to my consciousness. There's no dodging now. I'm a punching bag hanging by a thread.
A sharp crack echoes through my skull as another fist collides with my temple. The world tilts dangerously. I fight against the darkness creeping into the edges of my vision, desperate to stay alert.
I've got to get out, I think wildly,I can't go down—not here, not now.
Another hit jolts me back to the harsh reality. It's a strange detachment that settles over me as the beating continues—likewatching myself from afar, knowing this is bad, knowing every hit could be the one that ends me.
Cody's voice is in my ear again, it's almost apologetic amid the chaos.
“They have my daughter,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
I understand desperation. A father's need to protect his own, but understanding doesn't stop his fist from slamming into my gut again.
My insides churn at the impact, bile rising in my throat. Pain sears through me like wildfire through a forest. It consumes all rational thought until there's nothing left but the need to survive—to fight back even when overpowered. To do what I came here to do.
Every cell in my body screams. But they've reduced me to an animalistic state where thought gives way to instinct—where every breath becomes a battle and I remember the recorder in my pocket.
As consciousness wanes under the relentless assault, a single thought pierces through the haze of pain. Kristine and Asher are out there waiting for me—and I can't let them down.
I fall to the ground, bleeding, as Mike bursts out laughing. Cody crouches down next to me. “I had to choose between her or you.”
Evidently, he made his choice.
A final blow to the face blurs my vision, and I'm down.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KRISTINE
“Please,Andres, tell me you've heard from Ethan.”
“I'm sorry, Kristine, but I'm still waiting to hear from him.”
Andres sounds as disappointed as I am, and worse, I sense fear in his voice.
He probably thinks something has gone wrong. It's been hours without hearing from Ethan, when the truth is, his crazy plan shouldn't have taken him more than an hour.
Which means that something has gone terribly wrong.
“I'll go after him,” I say immediately, standing up with my phone in hand.
“No!” shouts Andres, on the other end of the line. “Ethan will kill me if you put yourself at risk, Kristine. Let me handle this.”
“And what do you plan to do?”
“I'll talk to my associates and tell them what's going on. We'll find Ethan, Kristine. You can trust that.”
Andres cuts the call, and that he is the second person to ask me over the course of the night to trust his word resonates inside me.
But I understand that I can't put Ethan at risk. His safety is all that matters to me right now.
Making a rash decision, I stand up. I hurriedly get dressed. Looking back, I realize I'm walking away from my only safety.
My house is being watched by Brandon's men, so I’m no longer safe there. But here won’t be safe either if I lose Ethan, so I grab my purse and car keys, leave the fancy building behind, and head into the busy streets of New York.
