Page 14 of The Lycan King's Captive

I started to rise, ready to do anything—to make any kind of noise—to get his attention off her.

He rubbed a meaty hand over her shoulder. “I’ll make it good.”

She rolled in a blur of movement, silver flashing as her arm streaked down.

Blood spurted. He fell on his ass and then flopped onto his back.

Abby shot to her feet, a scalpel in her hand. She plunged it down, stabbing his neck over and over, her blows so intense blood spattered the floor at my feet. Every time I thought she’d stop, she kept going, her arm flying up and down like it was spring loaded.

Carl’s body rocked. Then his head rolled away from his shoulders, the stump of his spine a white circle surrounded by bright red meat.

She stumbled back, her blood-covered chest heaving.

“No thanks,” she said. “I like my idea better.”

7

ABBY

Killing Carl was going to bother me later. At some point, and probably a lot sooner than I thought, I was going to lose my everloving shit at having murdered someone.

But that point wasn’t right now.

Right now, adrenaline flowed through me like electricity, and I almost expected my hands to glow as I bent and snatched Carl’s keys from the ground.

Cyrus stood at his cell door, his big body splattered with fresh blood.

Carl’s blood.

Nope. Still not freaking about it yet.

Cyrus spoke in my head. “We have to hurry.”

As if I planned on lingering. Carl could have been lying about turning off the cameras. Or about Roman being gone. I wasn’t taking anything for granted.

“I don’t have a plan,” I told Cyrus, racing to his door. There was only one key on the keyring—one of those old fashioned skeleton keys that looked like something from a cartoon or a play about a murder mystery. But it worked, and I went lightheaded with relief as I opened the door and stepped back.

Cyrus wasted no time getting out of the cell and moving us to the stairs. At the base, he stopped me with his hands on either side of my face. “Do you trust me?”

“I…” My heart pounded. Did I? I had no choice. He was Roman’s prisoner, which meant he was Roman’s enemy. That had to be good enough. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Stay behind me and stick to me as close as you can.”

“Okay.”

“Can I have the scalpel?”

My hand tightened around it reflexively, and I realized I didn’t want to give up my weapon. I’d grabbed it on impulse when I put the vial of antibiotics back in my medical bag, and I’d lived in terror of Roman spotting it as I tucked it against my forearm. But he’d been occupied watching Cyrus, and no one had noticed me slip my new weapon under my body as I’d returned to my mattress. I’d stayed as still as possible for hours, wondering if I possessed enough nerve to kill.

All it took was Carl’s breath on my neck to answer that question.

“Abby.” Cyrus’s silver gaze was steady. “I will get you out of here. I promise.”

I almost shook my head, because he couldn’t promise that. We might die as soon as we opened the basement door. But he’d created an ocean in my head. Something in his eyes told me he could do this, too.

I put the scalpel in his hand.

He nodded. “Stay close.”

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