Page 77 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

My body reacts instinctively, my feet moving before my mind catches up; I follow them, my breath coming in painful gasps.

“Motherfucker,” Dave shouts, raw hatred vibrating in his voice.

He also sprints after Igor.

We bolt up a narrow, spiraling staircase, the concrete walls closing in on either side.Dave moves ahead, his movements relentless and fluid, but even he’s struggling to keep up.My legs burn with the strain, but the adrenaline pushes me forward in pursuit of the monster carrying my daughter.No, our daughter.

We reach the top of the stairs, landing in another corridor.This one is longer, brightly lit by fluorescent bulbs.Igor’s grip tightens on Rose and Pete, his fingers digging cruelly into their tiny bodies.Rage boils in my veins, hot and consuming.My fists clench as my fear turns into fury.

My feet hit the ground harder, faster, matching Dave’s pace as we chase the evil monster down the winding corridor.The sound of our footsteps reverberates through the walls in a relentless echo.

Ahead, Igor’s chilling laughter reaches us.The bastard is reveling in the power he holds.“Come on, Boyle, keep up!”

A muscle beats in Dave’s jaw as he quickens his pace.He’s no longer just a man on a rescue mission; he’s a force of nature, driven by a need for justice, for retribution.

So am I.

We round a corner to find Igor standing at the far end of the corridor, a twisted smirk plastered on his scarred face.Rose and Pete are still in his arms.

“Mama!”Rose’s plea for help and the terror in her eyes threaten to undo me.

But I focus on the task at hand.This isn’t the time for weakness.

Dave steps forward, his voice menacing.“Let them go, Igor.”

The other man’s grin widens.“And give up my prize?No way.”

“You’re dead already.”Dave spits out the words.

Igor chuckles, a hollow, humorless sound.“You’ll have to catch me first.”

With that, he dashes through another doorway.A surge of panic grips me, but Dave’s hand finds mine, pulling me forward.

“We’re getting them back,” he whispers in a firm tone.

I nod and we plunge ahead with the fury in Dave’s eyes matching the burning resolve in my heart.

When we enter the room, I find out it’s a lab, every surface gleaming in clinical, sterile steel that reflects a sickly fluorescent glow.The air feels thick, dense with the acrid scent of chemicals and antiseptic; it burns my nose with every inhale.My heart pounds as I take in the vast room—machines hum and whir, tubes and cables snake across the floor, connecting to large steel tanks lining the walls.I recognize these tanks because I’ve seen similar ones in documentaries about drug production.Igor’s lair isn’t just a prison; it’s a factory for the empire of poison he’s built, a place that’s as much a weapon as he is.

He drags Rose and Pete closer to one of the workbenches.My stomach twists when he pulls a syringe from the polished surface, pushes the cap off with a practiced flick of his thumb.He’s done this before—countless times, I realize with a horrifying certainty.

“No!”I lurch forward, but his gaze snaps to me.

“Stay where you are, slut,” he sneers.“Or your precious little ones get a taste of my latest creation.”

He plunges the syringe into Rose’s arm, and my heart shatters as I watch her eyelids flutter, her tiny body swaying before she slumps to the ground.Pete follows soon after, his small frame folding like a rag doll as his eyes roll back.

I scream, the sound ripping from my throat like an animal caught in a trap, but Igor’s laughter cuts through my anguish.

“Shh, don’t worry.”His tone drips with mockery.“They’re not dead… yet.”

“Rose!”I step forward.

Igor blocks me, moving with the arrogance of someone who knows he’s in control.Igor’s arm locks around my shoulders, yanking me backward, his grip unyielding as he forces me to face Dave.I stumble, my movements arrested as he pulls me tightly against him, his jagged knife pressing against my throat.

I freeze, my heart pounding in terror.Dave’s gaze is fixed on the knife, horror and fury flashing in his green eyes, probably realizing how close I am to the edge of Igor’s blade.

“One more step, Boyle,” his fingers bite into my shoulder, “and I’ll slice her open from ear to ear.”

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