Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
The fear hit his eyes.
Instinct was winning. And logic had already left the building.
If I died on his watch, Roman would put him in the ground.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Hang on.”
He knelt beside me, placing his gun on the floor as he rushed to undo the restraints.
The moment my wrists were free, I moved.
My hand closed around the heavy bronze double eagle figurine that had fallen from the desk.
One brutal swing.
His head snapped back. He collapsed in a heap. A thin trail of blood trickled from his temple onto the floor.
I didn’t wait.
I grabbed the key, unlocked my ankles, took the gun, and slipped into the hallway.
Empty. Silent.
My shoulder throbbed. My heart pounded in my ears.
I moved fast, barefoot and sweating, every nerve screaming.
The second I stepped outside, it would be worse. Getting back to my men—injured, barefoot, without even a coat—would be hell.
But I didn’t need to get to the warehouse.
Just to the street.
I turned a corner—and froze.
Another guard.
Bigger. Alert. Facing me.
No chance to sneak by.
He saw me the second I saw him.
His eyes widened. I lifted the gun.
“I already killed one,” I said, aiming at his chest. “Move, or I’ll shoot.”
His hands went up.
Then his eyes flicked past me.
Everything changed.
He relaxed. Lowered his arms. His expression shifted from shocked to smug.
But he wasn’t smiling at me.
He was smiling at whatever was behind me.
“Put your hands up!” I yelled, voice sharp with panic.
Then I froze at an unexpected sensation.
Cold metal. Pressed between my shoulder blades.
The weight of a muzzle.
The warmth of a body behind me.
And that scent—spice, sweet smoke, and masculine arrogance—wrapped around me like a curse.
Roman.
His voice, dark and amused, purred against my ear.
“Leaving so soon, my pet?”
CHAPTER 14
ROMAN
When I saw the broken chair and the unconscious guard, still breathing but bleeding on my office floor, I wasn’t mad.
My heart hammered, a dark thrill curling low in my gut, like I’d been waiting my entire life for a woman to test me like this.
A tingling sensation traveled up my spine, and a smile pulled at my lips. My little printsessa was giving me a challenge.
A woman as strong as Zoya shouldn’t be easily captured or easily contained. She was going to make me work for every single inch I took, and I couldn’t wait.
After texting for another guard to come help his fallen colleague, I stalked through the cabin looking for her, hunting her, my Glock in one hand and a knife in the other.
There was no trail of bodies left like breadcrumbs for me to follow. That probably had more to do with the skeleton staff in the cabin than anything else.
She almost killed one man easily enough, and now she had his gun. I had no doubt she would take out anyone who got in her way. Zoya was fierce like that. Strong and fearless.
Stalking her through the cabin made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I was a hunter, following my prey—the wild, man-eating jungle cat.
It didn’t take long for me to find her in a hallway leading to the back door. Her stolen gun was trained on one of my men.
I could have just grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back like an animal. But I wanted her to know I was right behind her. I wanted her to feel the moment I took back control.
So instead, I moved silently, creeping up on her until I could press the gun between her shoulder blades.
Her entire body tensed before she whipped around faster than I thought possible and her head slammed into my gun.
Zoya pistol-whipped herself.
That was a first.
I opened my mouth to give her so much shit for that but before I could say anything she stumbled and then grabbed the wall. The hit didn’t have enough force to knock her out, but it certainly appeared to have the room spinning for her.
This was going to be fun. I didn’t want her to have any excuses, so I gave her a minute to collect herself. I wanted her to be as vicious and sharp-witted as ever when I took her back to the office and punished her severely.
It wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if she didn’t fight back.
Then the bleeding started.
All head wounds bled a lot.
But this was more than normal.
It wasn’t a slow trickle, or even a small river trailing from the impact site.
Blood gushed from her head in thick, sticky pulses. It coated her temple and ran down her cheek, soaking into her collar and dripping onto the floor.
Her skin paled even more before the light behind her angry green eyes dimmed.
“Jesus Christ, baby. What the hell?” I rasped, but even as I cursed, my hand trembled—because I’d seen men die from less.
Still, she lifted her gun, her hand shaking and her expression defiant.
Even injured and losing an ungodly amount of blood, she was still fighting.