“Race,” a voice whispered in my ear, but it sounded like it was a million miles away.

I moaned, shaking my head.

“Wake up, Race. I’m not done with you yet,” she whispered again.

My eyes flew open at a burning so intense that it ripped through my chest. She’d pushed her finger against the cut on my chest.

Everything hit me like a ton of bricks.

My awareness of my surroundings, the smell of her perfume, the sheer pain from the cut, and my absolute terror.

I pulled in a ragged breath before shrieking from the pain.

I mumbled something I didn’t even understand as the tears began to flow again.

“See what happens when bitches like you try to steal my husband?”

“No!” I screamed, shaking my head.

Just as she started to rip my pants from my body, the door burst open and slammed against the wall.

I turned my head toward the noise, seeing Morgan run through the door. Before he could take a step inside, Natasha held the knife to my throat.

“Take one more step and I’ll cut her throat,” she warned, pressing the blade against my artery.

I lifted my chin, trying to escape and prevent the crazy bitch from cutting me, and pleaded for Morgan to save me using only my eyes.

Tears streamed down, covering my cheeks as I whimpered. “Please,” I whispered to Morgan.

His eyes darted to me, growing wide as he took in the sight of me.

“Put the knife down,” a man said as he pushed past Morgan. Tyler O’Shea stopped as soon as he saw me. “What the hell did you do, Natasha?” he asked as his mouth hung open.

“How do you like how your whore looks now, Tyler?” she asked, holding the knife closer to my throat. “Doesn’t she look pretty now?”

“Natasha,” he whispered.

“Do you want to fuck her now?” she seethed, glaring at him.

“Morgan,” I pleaded, tears falling faster than they had before.

I stared at Morgan, trying to get lost in his eyes as a group of men gathered behind him with the same look of shock and disgust on their faces.

“Put the knife down, baby. We can talk about this. She means nothing to me,” Tyler told her, taking a step closer.

“Liar. So, if I did this”—she pushed the blade into my skin and I yelped—“you wouldn’t care?”

“Stop!” Tyler yelled, holding his hands out.

In one quick move, Morgan pushed Tyler to the side and took aim at Natasha. I held my breath, waiting for the knife to slice my throat.

As the gun went off, I screamed and blacked out.

“Race,” a voice whispered in my ear, but this time, it was a man waking me. “Princess, can you hear me?” he asked, stroking my face.

“Mmm,” I moaned, unable to speak and too fuckin’ scared to open my eyes as the noises around me grew louder.

Someone was undoing my hands and feet as the man continued to touch me with tenderness. “Race, wake up. You’re safe,” he said in a gentle voice. “Come on, baby.”

I know that voice.

Morgan is touching me.

I am safe.

I don’t have to be afraid anymore.

“Morgan,” I whispered, as my eyes fluttered open.

Pain was etched all over his face.

Maybe it was disgust in his eyes at seeing my wounds up close, but he didn’t look at me the way he had in my office earlier today.

“Natasha,” I whispered as he lifted me off the table.

“She’s dead,” he said, clutching me to his chest.

I settled into his warm arms, letting my eyes close, and sighed. Although I was in more pain than I’d ever experienced in my life, I knew no one would hurt me anymore.

“Rest, Race. I have you,” he said, walking with me in his arms and kissing my forehead.

“Morgan,” I whispered into his neck as I nuzzled as close to his skin as humanly possible.

“I’m here,” he replied, resting his head against mine.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling completely exhausted.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Race. This is all my fault,” he said as he placed me on his lap.

“No,” I whimpered, crawling closer to his side. “Don’t put me down.”

“I’ll never let you go,” he murmured, holding me tight.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll deal with the police,” someone said before the car door slammed.

I jumped.

“I have you.” He pulled me into his side, adjusting me in his lap and closing my blouse. “Close your eyes.”

I did as he’d said, too tired to argue or try to stay awake.

It was easier when I slept—or, hell, blacked out. I didn’t feel the pain from the cuts, panic didn’t rattle my body, and I sure as hell didn’t have to think.

The only things I needed to know were that Natasha was dead and I was in Morgan’s arms.

He’d saved me.

But I wasn’t the girl I was before. The look when he saw me would be forever burned in my memory.