Page 117

“You,” I snapped. “The mafia. Ronan. Dmitri.”

Shadows covered most of his face, but the light posts down the driveway were bright enough to reveal his expression. His jaw tensed, his tattooed knuckles white along the steering wheel. My heart thrummed. What was he going to do with me?

“What about Dmitri?”

“Are you planning on handing me over to him?”

Manic blinked, his chest heaving with two controlled breaths as he stared ahead. Like he was trying to manage his emotions—his tone. “Let me handle Dmitri.”

I exhaled roughly at the confirmation.

Oh, God.

Amelia had told me the truth. I pressed my palms against my eyes as my rising hysteria returned, mere seconds from hyperventilating. My chest grew tight, my lungs burning for air. Manic reached out, but I swatted him away again and pushed myself against the door.

“You lied to me,” I hissed.

“I didn’t lie to you.” He angled his head, his eyes now on me—a violent swirl of blue and a fleck of green. Trees and a rocky cliffside sat on one side of the road, winding around the depths of the ocean as we raced down the highway. “You asked me why he wanted you, and I told you. You knew he wanted you, I just never elaborated. But it’s not your problem to solve, Sutton. Let me take care of Dmitri. Trust me, he will not have you.”

I let out a sardonic laugh, shaking my head.

I was accustomed to people lying and withholding the truth, so why did it hurt as much as it did? My mind was a reckless whirl. Wasn’t that what I did, too—withhold the truth? But it wasn’t the same. I wasn’t trading someone’s life, I was protecting my own. It was self preservation.

Still, knowing that did little to ease the chaos in my head.

Manic’s nostrils flared as he watched me like a predator, studying my every move in between watching the road. He glanced at my hands then back to my face, like he was looking for something.

I swallowed as the car walls pressed further and further in.

I was going to be traded to Dmitri.

Would Manic be the one to deliver me to the Russians? My attention shifted to the soft, powdery snowflakes drifting across the windshield as I tried to gather my thoughts, a constant thump behind my eyes.

But I just couldn’t fucking breathe. I couldn't focus. And the car felt too small, like everything around me kept closing in regardless of how much I pushed back.

I was going to be traded.

They owned me.

The world blurred and narrowed across my vision, my breaths growing thin, like each one I dragged down wasn’t enough to satisfy my lungs. Like something heavy had been dropped on my chest, pressing harder and harder until everything inside me ached.

Air became shallow and useless.

The edges of my eyes darkened, the rush of the road a distant hum between my ears, the highway fading to a blur of black and yellow.

“Sutton,” Manic said, his voice muffled.

“Let me out,” I frantically whispered, now clawing at the door but it wouldn’t open. “Let me out of the car. Let me out of the car, Manic. Let me out. I can’t—I can’t fucking breathe.”

“We’re on the highway.”

I slammed my eyes shut as those forced breaths burned my throat, willing the panic to fade. It only made it worse as confinement overtook my system. Heat crawled up my neck, but then the car skidded to a stop within a few seconds.

The doors unlocked.

I immediately flung the door open and dragged in a lungful of ice-cold air the moment my feet touched the gravel. We were still on the highway, in one of those tourist spots on the side of the road overlooking the ocean. Stars winked down at me, but tears flooded my eyes.

Manic stopped at my back. “I will not let him have you. I promise.”