Page 51 of The Crime Lord's Possession
My pulse slams against my throat as I glance towards the bedroom, the bathroom, searching for somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t here.
“There must be some mistake.” I force the words past a mouth that’s suddenly gone dry. “These are Underlord Zavin’s private quarters. You can’t just walk in here.”
The large male doesn’t lift his stare off me. “Everything in this House belongs to my master. You’re coming with us.”
I back away, buying inches because I can’t buy time. “You can’t take me. I’m a contractor. If Lord Sethrak wants to see me, he’ll need to speak to Underlord Zavin first.”
It’s a desperate bluff, and he sees right through it.
“That’s almost adorable. You think you have a choice. Come quietly. It’ll be easier on you if you don’t fight.” The male laughs, the sound low and ugly.
As if I’m going to hand myself over without one.
Shoving Percy behind the stack of monitors before the first male reaches me. He disappears from sight just as a hand closes on empty air where I was standing.
Ducking beneath the next grab, I run. The edge of the desk slams into my hip hard enough to jar my teeth, but I keep going. The entrance is only a few strides away. If I can reach it, I still have a chance, I could—
A guard steps into my path. Throwing myself sideways, my shoulder crashes into his thigh. He stumbles, swearing, and for one impossible second I think I’ve found the gap, but rough fingers clamp around my arm. The wrench is so violent it tears a cry from my throat.Spinning into the pain, I sink my teeth into the arm holding me. The male bellows, his grip loosening just enough for me to rip myself free.
Run.
Two steps, and I’m grabbed again. Reaching for anything — one of the books from Zavin’s shelf. It swings up hard and the corner catches another male across the mouth. Blood sprays across the floor.
The male staggers backwards clutching his face, buying me another heartbeat. Lunging for the door as a heavy weight crashes into my back.
Slamming to the ground, my breath punching out of me. Pain explodes through my ribs as another male jams his knee between my shoulders, pinning me beneath his weight.
Air.
Can’t—
Hands seize my arms and haul me upright. My shoulder screams as they wrench it behind my back. I kick blindly, catching someone’s shin. A boot slams into mine. Someone curses. It isn’t enough.
Driving my heel down again, twisting, bucking, trying to tear free, but every opening disappears before I can reach it. One male pins both my wrists together while another catches my legs. Suddenly I’m barely touching the floor, carried more than dragged.
“Stop it, female. Or I’ll crack your head open,” a males grunts.
I believe him.
The chamber swims past me as they drag me across the floor. The chair lies on its side. Books are scattered everywhere. A shelf hangs crooked. Percy remains hidden behind the monitors, his screen dark now beneath their shadow.
None of them even glance his way. At least he’s safe.
The corridors pass in the grip of two enforcers, my arms wrenched up behind me at an angle that makes walking normally impossible,so I half-shuffle, half-stumble, and every jostle sends a white flare up through the joint.
When Zavin gets back to that room, he’ll come for me. That’s never been the question. The question is whether he’ll reach me before Lord Sethrak decides what to do with me.
“You’ve made a mistake,” I say, twisting against the grip on my arms. “Underlord Zavin is going to tear this House apart when he finds me gone.”
The male dragging me doesn’t even look at me. “Better him than Lord Sethrak.”
The words settle heavily in my stomach. Whatever waits for me at the end of this corridor is frightening enough that three hardened enforcers would rather face Zavin’s wrath than disappoint their lord. That doesn’t leave me with much hope.
They march me through corridors I’ve never seen before, away from the residential wing and into the private heart of the House. The walls grow quieter. Servants disappear. Even the lighting changes, warmer here, throwing a gold glow across polished stone that looks untouched by the grime of the Warrens below.
One final set of doors slides open.
The orange haze from outside filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the chamber in muted light.
