Page 49 of Citadel

But this isn’t a miracle world, and there’s no one around to hear me scream even if I was capable of it.

It feels like I’m strangling on the clench in my throat as I try to knee the man in the balls and scratch at his face at the same time. He’s got a rifle too, but he’s not in the position to use it. All he has against me right now is his strength and the fact that he’s twice my size.

“Hold her still,” the first man snaps. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s a nasty little bitch.” The man who grabbed me manages to land a punch right in my gut. I double over with the pain, momentarily losing my breath.

“Get control of her. I’ll call them back. Can’t believe we got another one.”

Another one.

They’ve got Breanna.

I know it for sure.

My throat breaks free. I manage a scream. It’s more anger than fear, but it’s loud and shrill.

The first man has pulled out something that looks like a whistle. He said he’s going to call the rest of them back. It must be an alert. Pretty soon the whole gang will be swarming me.

It’s a nightmare unfolding in the light of day.

I kick out again, finally managing a glancing blow to his crotch. It’s not perfectly aimed, but it’s enough to cause him to huff and loosen his grip.

I try to grab for his rifle—I need to kill that first man before he blows that whistle and calls the others back—but he’s aware enough to shove me away. Hard.

I fall to the ground. The first man has raised that whistle to his lips.

Cringing, tears of pain running down my face from the blows, I wait to hear the sound of the whistle. The sound of my doom.

Maybe it doesn’t matter.

They already have Breanna.

Instead of the whistle, I hear a weird whizzing sound and then a muffled grunt. A knife has come out of nowhere and pierced the side of the first man’s neck. Blood spurts out around it as he falls to the ground.

He makes a couple of weird jerks. Then lies still.

He’s dead. No question.

The second man is clearly as startled as I am. He stares at his fallen comrade for a few seconds, uncomprehending.

Then something must have occurred to him because he lunges toward me, grabbing me up by the arm in a move that hurts so much I choke on a cry.

It doesn’t last long. There’s a soft growling sound, and someone has hurled himself at my captor. The two men fall to the ground in what would have been a wrestling move had one man not been completely in control.

Cole.

Of course it’s him.

Who else would it be?

He’s on top of that other man, his hands on his throat. The man squirms and writhes and futilely fights against his strength. It doesn’t matter. In a couple of minutes, the second man is as dead as the first.

And no one managed to sound the alert to the others.

I’m sore all over. I can barely take a full breath. And my heart is hammering in fear and an overload of adrenaline. But I manage to haul myself back to my feet as Cole finally releases the man and stands up.

We stare at each other.

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