Page 69 of Ruthless

A grim-faced Angela grips my shoulders. “I don’t want you to panic.” She pauses, then blurts, “A group of men have broken into the house. I was heading out when I saw them through a window and overheard them talking. Sara…” Angela swallows. “Sara, they’re looking foryou. We have to get you out.”

Terror threatens to rip me apart. All I can picture are the men who broke into my apartment years ago and held Jeremy at gunpoint. The men I now suspect may have also fed Dante lies to turn him against me.

Instead of dwelling on the unknown, I yank the hood of the sweatshirt up to hide my hair.

The thick material smells just like Dante, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions at bay. As much as I want to break down, this isn’t the time or place.

Angela gestures me forward, but I hold out my hand to indicate I need a second and rush to the back of my cell. I snatch the collar and pearl leash from the pile near my other few possessions, and oddly, their weight reassures me.

The pearl chain won’t prove very effective against armed men, but it’s all I’ve got. If anything happens, I want Dante to know I at least went down fighting. Angela nods and grabs my hand. Together, we sneak past the other cells to the main door.

“Where’s Gregor?” My hand tightens around the collar until the band digs into my skin. The stinging pain helps slow my breathing, so I lean into the sensation.I can do this.

Angela blows out a frustrated breath. “No idea, but if you see him, stay quiet.”

I draw back, surprised. “Why?”

Angela doesn’t respond, too busy peeking out the door to the basement. The darkened area outside the cell block suggests that the intruders cut the power.

Shit.Luca won’t be able to use the security cameras to track them. The elevator is probably out too.

I tap Angela’s shoulder, and she whirls toward me, squinting in the dark.

“Stairs.” Rather than speak aloud, I mouth the word and point upward. In response, Angela guides me down the hallway.

WhereisGregor? Or Luca, for that matter? They’re probably preoccupied with locating the intruders and assume I’m safely tucked behind my cell’s institution-grade metal doors.

I pause. “Should we really be wandering around? Maybe we should go back and lock ourselves in?”

Angela looks back at me, annoyed. “Will you hurry up? Gregor’s the one who told me to move you just in case anyone slipped through.”

I bristle at but still brush off her delivery. She’s stressed. I’m stressed. And we could be shot dead any second.

Instead of bringing us to the stairwell, Angela leads us to the gym. A few of the guards stand in a circle discussing next steps, and Angela clamps a hand around my mouth before dragging me to the floor behind the boxing ring.

I spin and shove her hand away. “What the hell is your problem?” I hiss.

She shushes me while peeking around the edge of the ring. “Whoever is behind all of thisknowsDante isn’t home,sosomeonehas been feeding them information.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. Angela’s right. The timing is a little too perfect.

Pressure roars in my ears as the two of us hunker down behind the ring, straining to decipher the guards’ low murmurs. Could one of them really be capable of orchestrating this?

Luca’s voice crackles out from someone’s walkie-talkie. “We need backup on the third floor!”

My heart plummets to my toe. I’ve never heard Dante’s second sound so stressed.

This is bad. Really bad.

The guards scatter, leaving the room empty except for Angela and me. As they troop past, we lie flat on the floor behind the base of the boxing ring. Only when their footsteps finally fade do we scramble to our feet.

“Come on.”

Anxiety clouds my brain and Angela leads us to the gym’s entrance. After fumbling her palms along the stone wall and muttering to herself, there’s a click, and a hidden door swings open.

My eyes widen.How the hell doessheknow the layout of the basement so well? When I searched, I never found anything half as exciting.

Guess I’m more of an Inspector Clouseau than a Sherlock Holmes.