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I shoved his arm, but he made no move toward me.

“You lied to me!” I screamed.

Air left my lungs as reality set in—that I was being traded to Dmitri like the swapping of cattle. I should have never trusted Manic, because his life was always more important than mine. I felt like vomiting, but I wasn’t about to let him do this to me.

Fear and rage and heartache had me lunging for his gun. Metal scraped against my fingertips, and I yanked it free, holding it up with trembling hands.

The car skidded to a stop, and Manic slowly faced me. His brows lowered, his lip curling back. The steering wheel groaned beneath his grip, his forearms bulging from the pressure.

“That’s loaded,” he said.

“I know, I watched you load it,” I breathed, the gun shaking between us. I had no experience holding a gun, but they were simple enough, right? Aim and shoot. “Take me back. Turn around.”

“No.”

A sob escaped me, tears burning a path down my cheeks. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to shoot him, but this was my only way out. I would not go to Dmitri. To the Russians. My life was on the line, and if I could kill Noah, I could do this to Manic.

Even if it broke me.

“Let me go,” I begged again. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

My shoulders heaved with frantic breaths, drying the walls of my throat. Adrenaline flooded my veins. He wasn’t going to release me. If I didn’t do this now, I never would.

I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, silent tears slipping down my cheeks. Blood roared in my ears, my skin hot and clammy. But before I could talk myself out of it, before reason could take over, I pulled the trigger.

Click.

A single, horrifying click resounded through the car, and my breathing stalled. It didn’t go off.

My eyes flew open as Manic tore the gun from my hands, growling beneath his breath. He gripped a fistful of my hair, dragging me across the console until we were nose to nose. I gasped, my vision blurring as his angry breaths fanned my face.

“You were really going to shoot me?” he hissed, incredulous.

“You said it was loaded.”

“The safety was on.”

Then he was dragging me from the car by my hair until gravel and snow sprayed at our feet. We walked the rest of the way, and I winced, biting my lip to keep from crying with each stumble forward.

Wind bit at my face, cooling my tear-stained skin.

Manic tightened his grip the closer we got to the looming doors, our feet scraping and thumping on the gravel. I whimpered, attempting to free myself by squirming and pulling, but Manic held on.

My stomach bottomed when he opened the door.

Arms folded, Dmitri waited in the center of the grungy warehouse, surrounded by five other Russians and crates of what I assumed to be weapons. Lights flickered above, a brisk chill blanketing the tense, uncertain air. Dmitri smirked, cold and cruel.

Hope, what little I had left, dissipated.

My sense of the world narrowed, leaving nothing but horror and heartache. Seconds ago, I had wanted to continue speaking to Manic, and now…

I fell into myself, deeper and deeper, lost to the overwhelming sense of being trapped. I’d never leave this place, and I was a fool for ever thinking I would. Manic was no different from the other men in my life—men who had used me for their own gain. My father. Noah. Even Ronan.

And Manic shattered the very last pieces of my soul.

“And here I thought you won’t show,” Dmitri said, his accent heavy. His eyes fell to me. “My prize. Good to see she’s as feisty as ever. Tell me, was she easy to break?”