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Rae’s facedown on the couch until he grabs her hair and drags her up.
“It’s justice I want,” Mischa spits in her face. “The pound of flesh I’m owed.”
“You’ll take it from me,” I bark.
It’s enough of an interruption that he turns slowly. “Or from her, while you watch.”
Fear turns my gut into a block of ice before I can stop it. My breath is a shallow rasp echoing in my ears as I strain against my captor.
“On your knees.” Mischa’s words are for Raegan.
“Do you know how much these pants cost?” She’s bluffing, but I can hear the edge of fear in her voice.
Because I know her.
And I love her.
“You won’t be wearing them again,” he promises. “You won’t be wearing anything soon, and the only thing you’ll care about is saying my name when I fucking tell you to. If I let you breathe long enough to say it.”
He reaches for the buckle on his pants.
This room is squeezing the life out of me. I barely hear the crackle in my pocket because I’ve been reduced to watching the woman I love face down a villain she never should have met.
Raegan backs away from him, realizing his intention.
But she collides with a security guard, who forces her forward again.
“My patience is wearing thin,” Mischa gripes, turning to me. “You’ll get on your knees, and you’ll tell him to watch.”
Ideas of good and bad blur together. Of justice and vindication.
I hate him. But what comes through that hate is something bigger.
Love.
I love her, and it’s not about possession or control. It’s about the way she teaches me to see the world. Revenge is worth nothing—there’s no reason to fight for the past, but there’s every reason to fight for the future.
I’m going to get us out of this.
I’ll tear out of the security guard’s grip, lunge for Mischa.
But the men with the guns will get to me first.
Don’t care. I need to protect her.
“Harrison.” Her voice is steady, and I can hate everything in this room except those three fucking syllables from her perfect lips.
She’s held my gaze across a hundred rooms. I’ve always felt the strength of that connection, even if she was fighting me.
I’m coming,I say. I’m going to get us out of here.
But Raegan’s the one who opens her mouth and whispers, “Watch.”
I can’t make sense of the word until she shifts off the couch onto her knees.
No. No, this isn’t happening.
With a chuckle, Mischa works the zipper on his pants. He’s hard, and I want to throw up.
