Inhale.

Luna ignored the strain she felt in her wrists, even as the rope rubbed the skin raw, trying to pull herself up by nothing more than sheer will and her desire to get revenge against the two assholes who had strung her up in the first place.

The initial panic of being taken had dulled, though there was still a bit of fear in the back of her mind that Kit wouldn’t make it to her in time.

The two men Elias had sent to take her were a little too anxious and a little too happy at the idea of making her suffer.

Besides a few hits to and their yelling in her face, they hadn’t tortured her much, venturing off somewhere, leaving her alone in the center of the warehouse, dangling from a hook in the ceiling.

She almost had a bit of leverage, her bound wrists sliding up just enough that she could almost slip it around the hook, but every time she got close, the pain in her arms grew to be too much.

Exhale.

Dropping her weight, a gust of air left her as she tried to think of another strategy, feeling the droplets of sweat sliding down her spine.

Elias’ men had only been gone for a few minutes at most, but they were coming back, and when they did, she didn’t want to be in such a vulnerable position.

Think, she needed to think.

She was raised just far enough off the ground that she couldn’t get any leverage with her feet, but maybe …

Pushing her legs back then swinging them forward, Luna built up momentum. If she could swing just the right way, she might be able to lift herself up to the point that her restraints would just slip off the hook.

It could work!

“No, there’ll be none of that.”

The sound of a door opening and Elias’ amused voice made her blood run cold, even as a frown tugged at her lips.

While he was behind all of this, she hadn’t expected for him to actually show his face, but she hadn’t considered the man’s arrogance. Of course, he would want to gloat, to show her that he was the one who wanted her dead.

But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing fear—Kit had taught her better than that.

“I once knew a girl who was horribly afraid of the dark,” Elias said as he crossed the floor, keeping his hands behind his back as he circled her. “She thought the shadows would consume her … or perhaps, she thought there was a monster in the dark—I never cared to find out which. I tried to explain what a ridiculous notion it was, but you can’t apply logic where there is none. You see, her fear defied logic—nothing I said would have made a difference.”

Luna didn’t speak, just watched his every move until he disappeared out of sight. Whatever he was saying didn’t matter—not when she knew what he was trying to do.

She’d seen so many others play the game—taunting their victims into submission to the point that they wouldn’t dare say anything other than pleas for mercy.

If there was one thing she wouldn’t do this night, it was beg.

“D’you know why I’m telling you this?” he asked, stopping in front of her once more.

“Because you like the sound of your own voice?” Luna retorted, eyeing him.

If he would come just a little bit closer, she could get her legs around his neck and free herself … or snap his neck—she wasn’t picky.

“You see, Luna, nothing you say will change what happens here. How does that feel—to know that you’re facing death and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Do you think you’re scaring me with this little talk?” Luna asked.

“Are you still hoping that Nix will come to your rescue? That he’ll save you from your impending death?”

Now, it was Luna’s turn to smile. “I’ve never needed him to save me, but I can assure you that if you’re still here by the time he does get here, you’re going to wish it was me saving you.”

There was a flicker of annoyance in Elias’ eyes, as though he didn’t understand why she wasn’t afraid, but she had lived through far worse than being tied up and forced to listen to someone harp on about their evil plans.

Lawrence Kendall had been able to spark fear in her from the moment she heard the sound of his expensive leather shoes on the tile floors.

Elias was only annoying her.

“I’d wondered,” Elias went on, ignoring her last quip. “What on earth so many see in you. There are plenty of pretty girls, and even more deadlier than you are, yet so many seem rather taken with you.”

He stepped toward her, so close that she could smell the clean scent of his clothes and see the fine wrinkles beside his eyes. There was a blankness to his features that spoke of his careless actions.

The fact that he was here now, questioning her, goading her, meant he was losing his edge.

“They really made you into something, didn’t they?”

Luna didn’t have to wonder who he meant—Kit and Uilleam—and though she wanted to give a retort, he wasn’t wrong.

They had changed her.

Before, she would have been crying, begging to be set free, but that wasn’t who she was anymore. She wasn’t weak.

Uilleam had presented the opportunity, and Kit had shown her what to do with it.

This life of hers had been shaped and molded by a pair of brothers she hadn’t met until almost eight years ago.

“Your time is running out,” Luna told him, though she hadn’t the slightest idea how close or how far Kit was.

She only knew he would come for her, and God help any poor bastard who thought to stand in his way.

Elias didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he chuckled. “Did you know she said you were off-limits?”

“Carmen?” Luna asked, the disbelief clear in her voice.

“Belladonna,” he answered.

Now, for the first time, he rendered her speechless.

“You’re amusing … as one might consider a pet, but I’ve never seen what interested her so much about you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but her curiosity got the best of her before she could swallow the words back down.

“Surprising that you know nothing,” he said with the slightest shake of his head. “But it no longer matters because today, I’ll rid you of this world.”

Elias stepped away, shadows closing in, revealing the men who had been waiting in the wings. One held a baton, another palmed a machete, and the last … he just looked eager to get started.

“I would hurry, if I were you,” Elias told the men as he straightened his hat and glanced at Luna one last time. “She wasn’t wrong about Nix coming for her, and I doubt you want to be here when he does.”

He disappeared, his quiet laughter trailing after him, and once he was gone, all eyes were on her.

“You should go while you still have the chance,” Luna warned them, a sliver of unease creeping through her.

Kit was coming, even Elias knew this, but he had to know something else if he knew with some certainty why he wasn’t there already.

In the time it took for him to get there, a lot of pain could be inflicted …

The one with the baton, raised his arm, swinging without warning, giving her only a moment to twist her body and take the hit on the back of her legs.

Pain exploded in that spot, making her clench her teeth against the need to cry out, but she wouldn’t.

When he swung again, she used every bit of strength she possessed to lift her body, dodging the hit by mere centimeters.

But she wasn’t quick enough to dodge the hit that came after, this one landing where she’d been shots mere days ago.

That was enough to make her scream, the pain making her feel like a rib had been broken.

And once she was unable to defend herself as best she could, more hits came, the others joining in until there was no central location for the pain—all of her hurt.

Black spots dotted her vision, and she was sure she would pass out from the agony at any moment, but as quickly as she was suffering, the pain just stopped.

“Who the fu—”

A projectile sounded a moment before the man nearest her dropped. She could barely get her eyes open to see Kit crossing the room, firing with expert precision until there was only one left—one who was quickly begging for his life.

Two shots to his kneecaps sent the man to the floor, his own cries of pain echoing in the warehouse, even louder than Luna’s had been.

Even as she ached and was desperately close to passing out, Luna managed a smile as she whispered his name, relief filling her now that she knew he was here.

“Take him,” Kit said to someone else, but she could hardly raise her head to see who.

There was one long moment as she felt Kit cutting at the ropes before she was suddenly free, and she dropped like dead weight into his arms, but even that hurt as he caught her.

This pain, however, she didn’t mind.

“You’re safe,” he said as he held her, carrying her from this place and out into the night.

For now, she thought bitterly.

Elias was still out there, and she knew that as long as he was, she would never truly be safe.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

---

“Slow down,” she would say with a laugh, her arms squeezing his middle, “or you’ll crash and kill us both.”

Aidra hated when he drove with little care to speed limits and other drivers on the road, and even now, she would probably be more concerned about him wiping out than the fact that he was going well over a hundred miles per hour to get to her.

But Fang didn’t care.

He just wanted to make sure he could get there in time so she could yell at him about being reckless with his disregard for his own life.

He needed to get to her.

The GPS was spouting directions in his ear, and he mindlessly followed them, his heart racing in his chest nearly as fast as he was riding.

There were a thousand words he wanted to say, but he just needed to get to her to make sure he could actually say them.

Finally—finally, he reached the warehouse and could just see the light flickering beneath the gated entry.

He squeezed the brake hard, sending his bike sliding sideways, but even as he laid it down with little care, he was taking off across the parking lot, running faster than he ever had before.

His brothers were close behind, dashing after him, but he could only think about what he would find on the other side of the garage door.

Pulling the gun from its holster at his side, he fired at the lock, rearing back to slam his booted foot into the door to send it splintering open.

There was a crash then a curse as a man ran out a back door, just a blur at the edge of Fang’s vision. Without being prompted, Thanatos and Invictus took off after him.

But it wasn’t to the runner that Fang directed his attention, rather to the tank that was set up in the middle of the floor.

Aidra …

Her hands and ankles were bound, but her eyes were wide with panic because the water that was feeding into the tank was nearly above her head.

“I’m going to get you out!” he said—he promised.

If it was the last fucking thing he did.

Fang scrambled forward, trying to find the opening, but the latch was impossible to open, no matter how he twisted and pulled, and even as he fucking shot the thing. The bullets only embedded themselves in the metal, but nothing more.

Tăcut shot at the glass, but besides a vague imprint where the bullet struck, the glass held.

If possible, the panic only grew in Aidra’s eyes, mirroring what Fang felt.

They’d made a tank of bulletproof glass.

He needed to think.

He needed to think.

He needed to think.

Nothing was ever truly bulletproof. If you shot it enough, its integrity would start to fail and eventually, it would break.

That was easy—there was enough ammunition between the two of them that there would be nothing left but dust.

He could get her out.

He would get her out, but time wasn’t on his side, and he could already see that the water was already above her head.

Three minutes …

He had three minutes to get her out.

Fang fired until his gun clicked, until the center of the glass was opaque and he could no longer see her face, but he could see the rest of her—the way her legs had stopped flailing and her body had stopped moving.

The panic and pain that filled his chest were too acute, too real for him to focus on anything else.

She wouldn’t die.

Not like this.

Not when he could save her.

One minute, Tăcut was beside him, and the next, he was gone, only to return seconds later with a sledgehammer from a nearby workbench, and with every bit of strength the man possessed, he sent it flying into the glass.

One hit, then another, and another, until finally, finally, the glass front shattered and water gushed out, nearly taking them off their feet, but Fang stood fast.

“Aidra,” he shouted, even as he pulled her from the tank, ignoring the feel of her clammy skin as he laid her flat, pushing the strands of her hair back from her face.

Stacking his hands on top of her chest, he pressed, trying to force the water from her lungs, then reared up to force her mouth open and blew.

Alternating between the two, he didn’t stop—he wouldn’t stop—refusing to give up, even as his arms cramped, and he knew …

He knew.

She didn’t deserve this—not Aidra. She was too kind, too giving, too sweet—too much of what was good about him to be taken from the world as violently as she had.

Screams echoed all around him, the noise nearly splitting his head open and the only thing he wanted in that moment was for it to fucking stop. But as he cradled her in his arms, holding her tight against him, he realized that the screams were coming from him.

He whispered words she couldn’t hear.

Apologies.

Promises.

He would make this right. He would avenge her until nothing was left of him—at least what was left now that she was gone.

Even as his mind seized on the bloodlust that was quickly churning inside him, Fang remained where he sat, holding her tight as he should have before.

He knew his brothers stood around him, silent and respectful, their gazes on anything besides them to offer him privacy.

Of all of them, he knew best how to channel his pain—how to bury it deep until there was nothing left to feel—but he didn’t this time.

He let his grief consume him.

He needed to feel everything.

Fang leaned forward, pressing his lips to her cold temple as he whispered a prayer, whispering words that he had never offered to another.

Don’t go, he wanted to say.

What would he do without her smile and laughter and joy?

How could he look Nix in the face knowing that he had failed the one task the man had asked of him—keeping her safe.

“She’s fragile,” Nix had said long ago. “Whether she wants to admit it or not. Protect her—even if you have to protect her from herself.”

He should have gone after her instead of waiting.

He should have driven faster, tried harder.

Fang should have done a lot of things.