He flicked the lock and wrenched the door open.
I scurried to his side, peering around him as the two guards who’d tried to stop the doctors from leaving leapt to their feet. A few candy wrappers littered the floor from where they’d been relaxing against the corridor walls.
“What the—?” The guards shared a worried look. “Why are you—?”
“We’re leaving.” Lucien smirked that savage little smirk I was so used to seeing just before he killed someone. “I suggest you get out of my way.”
“How are you even standing, let alone walking?” The guard with both arms tattooed yanked a pistol from the holster on his hip. “We were told you lost enough blood to keep you unconscious for days.”
“Yes, well...” Lucien stepped over the threshold. Whisper stalked to his side, revealing sharp teeth. “I suggest you stop asking pointless questions and move.”
The second guard aimed his gun at the useless piece of metal in Lucien’s chest. “Look, sir. We have orders to keep you safe.”
“Good, then let me go.”
“Please return to the room or—”
“In the time it will take you to decide to shoot me—after going over the pros and cons of what will happen if you go against Marcus’s orders—your intestines will already be steaming on the floor.”
Whisper roared, looking positively peckish.
“See?” Lucien arched his chin at the panther. “He’s hungry.”
The two guards gulped and backed up. The taller, tatted one grabbed the radio fastened to his shirt pocket. “Tell that beast to get away from us or I’ll call for backup.”
“Again. In the time it takes for you to press that little button, your spinal cord will be torn out and used as a chew toy.”
The guard gulped.
He pressed the button—
Whisper crouched to pounce.
But the softest pop, pop, and the guard’s eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
The other guard leapt sideways, bashing into the wall and rattling a few decorative plates off their hooks, only to end up comatose beside his colleague.
“What a shame.” Lucien shrugged at Whisper. “Guess you won’t get a snack after all.”
“How...how did you do that?” I asked. “How did you knock them out without moving?”
True fear flared.
Was he getting worse?
Was his unnatural heat just the start?
“It wasn’t me.” He ruffled the panther’s scruff, his mood prickly and tight—just like it had been before he’d ordered me to kill him.
I didn’t like that. At all.
My head pounded as my vision greyed around the edges. “What do you mean, it wasn’t you?” My gaze shot down the corridor just as four black-clad assassins bled from the darkness.
“It was them,” Lucien murmured coldly.
“Mr. Ashfall?” The men didn’t lower their weapons. “Please state your thirteen-digit passcode.”
“1886-348-413-888.” Lucien pointed at Whisper. “The cat is not to be hurt.”
How was he so casual about all of this?
What the hell is happening?!
“Understood.” The man who’d come closer—a mask covering his entire face apart from his eyes—lowered his gun and waved at his colleagues to do the same. “We’ve put down twenty-two guards. Are there more? Is there any danger you can foresee that might hinder your safety if we take you out of this room?”
Lucien shrugged. “No idea. Marcus is thorough but today happened quickly. He’s away until morning I believe, trying to get the upper hand again.”
“In that case, we should move immediately.” The man backed up, allowing another masked shadow to come forward. “Please put on the bulletproof vest.”
Lucien’s eyebrows arched as a black duffel bag was tossed at his feet. Dropping to his haunches, he unzipped it and pulled out a black knit sweater, along with a stiff-looking vest. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he quickly shrugged into the sweater—kindly hiding his distractingly gorgeous body—before snatching the vest and tossing it at me.
“Put it on,” he said flatly.
I fumbled with the weight of it, almost dropping my phone. “What?”
“Mr. Ashfall,” the man muttered. “It’s your safety we need to prioritise. You need to wear—”
“Put it on, Rook.” He ignored the man and stepped toward me. Grabbing the huge, heavy thing, he slung it around my shoulders and yanked my arms through the sides like I was a stubborn child.
The men wisely didn’t say a word.
“But what if you get hurt?” I argued as he zipped me up and velcroed the sides so tight I could barely breathe.
“Doesn’t matter.” His heat scorched me as he stepped back and inspected me.
I probably looked horrendous with my rain-crinkled black dress and matching Kevlar, but the way he studied me sent a wave of fire directly between my legs. “Of course it matters—”
“No. It doesn’t,” he cut me off. “We both know I’m...unusual. I seem to heal faster than most, but you? You don’t.”
“How do you know I don’t?” My hackles rose a little. “I could be like you. I could—”
“You could.” His gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unblinking. “But I’m not willing to take that chance.”
My throat tightened.
Did he mean to sound so threatening or so scarily...romantic?
Because it was working.
“I can’t let you get hurt. You’re the only thing keeping me from burning alive.” His jaw flexed as his gaze locked onto my mouth. “Without you, I might not survive long enough to get my revenge so...you’re never leaving my sight, and if that means I have to strap you into a hundred ballistic vests and toss you into an armoured box to keep you safe, I’ll do it.”
Whisper huffed as if he agreed.
“If you’re ready?” The closest man checked his watch, the digits glowing red in the night. “The plane is waiting for us.”
“Plane?” I squeaked. “What plane? What about Dillon?”
“Your bodyguard is too late.” Fisting my hand, Lucien jerked me behind him. “Lead the way.”
“You don’t sound unhappy about this,” I snipped, my fingers tingling in his.
“I’m not.” He smiled smugly. “I did warn him he had a couple of hours to find you. He failed.” Ducking a little, he whispered into my ear. “And now, you’re all mine.”
Two men slipped around us, taking up position at our rear.
The two men in front turned to retrace their steps. “Please heed all our orders, and we’ll get you back to the mountains safely.”
My stomach twisted as Lucien jerked me into motion.
I had no say as I was dragged down the stairs and hurried into the chilly night. With Whisper flanking me and Lucien pulling me, I gingerly stepped over the bodies of either dead or unconscious Cinderkeep guards.
Mist ribboned around the hedgerows, sending out ghostly fingers across the grass.
I suddenly understood why this bed and breakfast was named Misty Meadows.
A convoy of black vans appeared from the night, and I wondered—just for a second—if I should run before Lucien could trap me somewhere new.
Because wherever we were going, I doubted Dillon would find me.
Corpses and empty rooms. Blood-soaked towels and my forgotten tatty rucksack.
He’d think I was dead.
And I might end up that way if he ever hunted me down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE SLEEK SILVER PLANE LOOKED FAR smaller than the one I’d flown in when Marcus dragged me to England. Back then, as a nine-year-old, everything had seemed so huge—
“That concludes the extraction part of our service, sir,” the masked man—who hadn’t shown us his face, even in the one-hour car ride—pointed at the plane and awaiting airhostess by the open stairs. “The crew works for Sovereign Retrieval. You’ll be perfectly safe. A helicopter will take you the rest of the way when you arrive.” Backing up, he added, “Is there anything else you require before we depart?”
I tried to answer him but...the outside world was too much. Too bright. Too noisy.
