I tore at his arm, fighting his hold, screaming, “No, someone help! Please, someone help me.”
He pulled my back to his chest and cupped his palm over my mouth. “Keep screaming and you die. At this point, I’m beginning to believe you’ve worn out your use.”
Still, I kicked and flailed as Jarek half carried, half dragged me into a stairwell meant for the maintenance team.
They quickly rushed down the stairs, the two men’s feet pounding on the concrete steps.
The whole time, I fought. Desperation thick, I scratched and clawed at Jarek’s hand while trying to sink my teeth into his palm.
It wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough.
They banged through a door that led into the back of the building where there was an employee parking lot for the stores and restaurant that housed the main floor.
I kicked and flailed my bare legs into the frigid, ice-cold air. “No!” It slurred against his palm.
Right outside, a man waited at the back door of a limousine. He opened it, and Jarek tossed me inside.
I shouted with everything I had as I slid into the leather seat on one side.
“Help! Please.” Frantically, I smacked my palms against the glass.
Jarek climbed in. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Two doors slammed shut and the car jolted forward, the tires squealing as we peeled from the lot.
I banged both palms against the glass as if I could break free.
The low, sinister laughter that curled through the limousine made my head whip around to find another man I hadn’t realized was there.
Haille Manchief sat across from me with a smug smile on his pompous face. His head was cocked to the side, studying me as if I were the most interesting element in this twisted-up game. “Ah, there you are. I thought you were going to prove interesting.”
He took his attention from me and set it on Jarek who raged beside me.
“He’ll come. Just wait. It is done.”
FORTY-FIVE
LOGAN
Agonized violence burneda hole through the middle of me. I stormed back into the kitchen. Unable to sit. Unable to think. Prisoner to the torment that clawed through my insides.
I nearly choked on the sight of the half-made cookies where Aster had left them. Seized by the rage, I grabbed the metal mixing bowl and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall and clattered to the floor.
“Logan, man.” Jud’s voice was low and sympathetic where it fell over me from behind, and I pressed my hands to the counter and dropped my head between my shoulders in an effort to get it under control.
My brother set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it tight. “We’re going to get her back, man, promise you.”
My heart ping-ponged against my ribs.
My vision red.
The fury blinding.
“I can’t—” The words cracked in my throat as another wave of desperation slammed me.
It didn’t matter that I’d already known she was gone, that I’d known it the second I stepped into the frayed, oppressive air her spirit had left behind, I’d searched every inch of the building.