Page 117 of Requiem
Behind us, Kieran lets out a rough sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re alive enough to complain. That’s promising.”
Nico turns immediately toward him. “Please shut the fuck up before you bleed out.”
Snow swirls through the open van door while alarms continue echoing from the venue in the distance. Somewhere behind us, more shouting erupts across the parking lot.
We don’t have time.
Rafe looks up sharply. “Drive.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice stays cold and steady while he works on Micah. “Get us out of here.”
“I can’t leave Emma.”
“You have to if you want her alive.”
The words hit like a knife straight through my chest.
“They took my fuckingwife, Graves. We need to leave if we’re going to have a chance to save them.”
For one horrible second, all I can see is Emma being dragged away, her hand reaching for me. And my heart fractures.
Rafe grabs the front of my jacket hard enough to force my attention back onto him. “Listen to me carefully,” he says, eyes deadly calm. “This is exactly what Alexei wanted. He wants you irrational. He wants yousuicidal. You donotget to become useless right now. Is that fucking clear?”
My jaw clenches so hard it could snap.
“You can’t kill the bastard tonight,” Rafe says evenly. “But not tonight. He’s not going to hurt them yet.”
Micah groans again as Rafe shifts pressure against the wound, and realityslams back into me enough to clear the fog for a second. They need me to befunctional.
I force myself upright and stumble toward the driver’s seat, hands shaking violently as I climb behind the wheel. Snow lashes against the windshield while my pulse hammers hard enough to blur the edges of my vision again.
Emma is gone. Alexei has her. And I know exactly what he plans to fucking do with her.
Chapter thirty-one
EMMA EASTON
Consciousness comes back to me in pieces. I feel…cold, first. And pain. Then the sharp, awful taste of blood in the back of my throat.
I inhale too fast and immediately regret it as dizziness crashes through my head. The floor beneath me is concrete, freezing against my palms where I’m braced awkwardly on one side. My vision swims for a second before slowly pulling into focus.
Dim, fluorescent lighting, no windows. I blink, realizing with absolute horror that I’m in a basement.
No.
No, no, no—
I force myself upright quickly, tilting hard enough that I have to catch myself against the wall beside me. I jolt at the sudden sound of chains when I move. Panic immediately claws up my spine as memory comes back. Gunfire, running, and Jude shouting my name somewhere behind me….
Hands grabbing me. And then nothing.
A sharp breath leaves me as I finally look around.
Heather is sitting a few feet away, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, her mascara streaked beneath her terrified eyes. The moment she notices I’m awake, relief floods across her face. “Emma,” she whispers.
Adela sits beside her, dark hair disheveled and expression filled with rage. Even sitting captive on a concrete floor, she somehow still looks like she’s seconds away from killing someone.
