Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
His eyes widen at my sudden, wild attack, and he barely steps to the side in time to avoid my knife. Instead of plunging into his neck, it glances off his tactical vest.
One of the others grabs my wrist and wrenches it behind my back. I drop to my knees with an agonized shout, and the blade clatters to the floor.
My captor increases the upward pressure on my arm, and my shoulder screams in protest.
Or maybe I’m the one screaming.
I’m forced onto my front, until my cheek presses into the rug, and my free hand claws at the soft fibers for purchase.
The man’s weight settles over my back, holding me immobile.
“Tracker?” the leader asks, sounding almost bored.
Another man is waving some sort of black wand over my body that reminds me of a metal detector.
“Found it.”
They know about the tracking device.
The knife flashes in my peripheral vision, and pain slices into my shoulder. My assailant digs the tracker out of my flesh, and I can’t smother another scream.
The tiny device is no bigger than a grain of rice. The man flicks it away, and it skitters across the floor.
I breathe through the pain.
If Brandon can’t track me, they can’t set a trap for him.
He won’t die because of me.
Not again.
But I’m not ready to let them take me from him so easily.
My captor hauls me upright, and I twist and kick. He barks a curse when my heel connects with his shin.
Despite the pain I inflicted, his grip on me doesn’t loosen.
I jab my elbow back into his stomach, but all I earn is a bruise when I slam it into his bulletproof vest.
More men appear at the end of the corridor. I thrash.
The leader laughs. “She’s a wild little thing. Whoever gets her better enjoy a challenge.”
“The bitch kicked me. It’s not fucking funny.”
A fist tangles in my hair, wrenching my head back. I don’t stop fighting. My fingernails rake the leader’s face.
His grin morphs into a snarl, and he barks at one of his men. “Who has the tranq gun? Put her down.”
A silvery dart punches my chest. I jerk in my captor’s hold.
My limbs grow heavy. I kick weakly, but there’s no strength behind it.
The corridor dims as my body sags.
The last thing I see is Logan’s motionless form before the world disappears.
17
BRANDON
I’m wiping Costa’s blood from my knife when my phone vibrates. I retrieve it from my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see the security alert.
Someone’s at the manor. The gates haven’t been breached, but they’re in the house.
I take off for my car at a sprint, not noticing the bodies of the dead men I cut through to get to Costa.
I should’ve taken my time with him to get more information, but I succumbed to my terror over losing Karolina. I ended him too quickly.
He might’ve warned me about an attack at the estate if I’d made him beg for death.
Ghost isn’t answering his phone.
“Fuck!”
I check the location of Karolina’s tracker. She’s still at the house, at least.
A sense of powerlessness I’ve never known before hollows out my chest as I race down country lanes to get back home.
I call Ghost over and over again, but he doesn’t pick up.
Panic claws at my insides, shredding rational thought. I’m little more than a feral beast by the time I skid to a stop at the end of the long driveway.
The front door is hanging off its hinges. Ghost shouldn’t have tempted fate by joking about someone blasting their way in.
The safe room. She has to be in the safe room.
I race down the labyrinthine halls. They go on forever, and even my rapidly beating heart seems to slow as time dilates.
I can’t get to her fast enough.
The house is too quiet.
Deadly quiet.
I round the corner to the corridor that leads to the safe room and find a nightmare waiting for me.
Ghost is sprawled on the floor, unmoving. His white shirt is stained crimson.
Something crunches beneath my boot.
The tracker.
It’s coated in her blood.
A purely primal roar rips from my chest.
I rush to Ghost. His pulse is faint, but my friend isn’t dead.
I shake him. “Where is she?”
He chokes on a wet cough. “I’m sorry, Ragnar. I couldn’t stop them. They took her…”
He trails off. He’s barely breathing.
“Open your eyes, Ghost. Don’t you dare die on me.”
His only response is another weak cough.
“I need you to help me find her.” My heart is in my throat. “You can’t die. Logan!”
I have to save my friend. I can’t lose the only two people in the world I care about.
And I won’t be able to track down Karolina without his expertise.
Every second that passes takes her farther away from me.
They won’t kill her, I reason. They could’ve shot her right here, but they took her with them.