Page 39 of A Violet Obsession

For a fraction of a second, the madness and the greed, and the calculation all align on his face in a way that terrifies me more than the gun does.

“Movement.” The man at the window’s voice cuts through.

Voss swings toward him. “Markham?”

“He’s getting out of the truck.”

Voss’s jaw tightens. “Handle it.”

“Wait—” I start, but the man at the window is already talking, his voice low and clipped. “Comms are jammed. I can’t reach the ground team.”

The energy in the room shifts. Every man in the room straightens.

“We don’t know who he’s called. If Markham contacted⁠—”

The man at the window steps back from the glass. “Sir, this could be an organized response. If there’s a team moving on the building, we have minutes. Maybe less.”

One of the men grabs my arm again. “We need to move.”

“Agreed.” Voss’s pale eyes land on me, and I see the decision form before he says it. “She’s coming with us.”

My stomach drops through the floor.

“She knows where the amethyst is. And if what she just said is true—” He licks his lips. “She’s more valuable than I initially thought.”

“No.”

No, no, no!

“On your feet.” The man hauls me up from the sofa. My legs buckle, and he yanks me upright by the arm.

The men form a phalanx around Voss. One checks the hallway before nodding. The one holding me shoves me forward, and I stumble, catching myself on the doorframe as they push me into the corridor.

Voss still has the gun. He’s walking ahead of me, flanked by two men, the other two behind. The hallway is empty and silent. We make it three steps before the first muffled pop echoes from somewhere below us. Then a sharp curse comes from behind me.

The man holding my arm releases me to draw his weapon, and I’m free! My body moves before my brain catches up. I spin back toward my apartment door—still open, light spilling into the hallway—and I’m two steps from it when Voss grabs the back of my shirt.

“I don’t think so.” He wrenches me around, the gun rising, and for one frozen moment I am staring down the barrel and into his pale blue eyes behind it. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t⁠—

A streak of orange erupts from the apartment doorway.

Hera hits Voss’s outstretched arm with all twenty-five pounds of fury. The gun goes off, deafening in the narrow hallway, and dust and bits of carpet fly up from the floor.

Voss screams, but Hera doesn’t let go. She’s snarling, a sound I’ve never heard from her before, guttural and savage, her teeth sinking into the meat of his hand as he flails his arm trying to shake her free.

I have to help her.

I grab Hera and throw myself through the apartment door, slamming it behind me. I don’t bother with the lock. He has a key. He owns the entire fucking building.

I back as far into the apartment as I can, clutching Hera to my chest, my bare feet on the cold floor, and curse myself for not grabbing a knife from the kitchen.

A knife won’t help against a bullet.

A sob bubbles up in my chest, and I bury my face in Hera’s fur. She’s shaking, but I don’t think it’s fear. Her body is coiled tight, ears flat, eyes locked on the door.

She’s furious.

“Good girl,” I whisper into her warm body. “Good girl. You’re so brave. You’re the bravest thing I’ve ever known.”