Page 179 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

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Luna

The world narrows to a single point: Cade on his knees, eyes unwaveringly trained on Scar, his blood seeping onto the floor as strength leaches out of him.

Everything else pales in comparison—the kitchen, Scar’s presence behind me, even my own thundering heartbeat.

I swallow against the cold bite of steel at my throat, feeling another trickle where it breaks my skin. Tears of rage and desperation burn my eyes. Every instinct screams to fight Scar—to dig my elbow into his ribs, to stomp his feet, to claw his eyes. But the blade against my pulse makes even breathing dangerous.

Scar breathes against my neck. “See the way he’s looking at me? He’s talking to me. That’s how deep our connection goes. I know what he’s saying without words. Can you beat that?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I can’t. Never.”

“Good. He wants to see you before he dies. So, ask me nicely, and maybe I’ll let you go to him.”

“Please, Scar,” I whimper without hesitation. “Please let me go. Please.”

Scar’s voice drips venom into my ear. “You beg so fucking good, Luciana. We’ll see how you’ll thank me later.”

“What?” My stomach drops.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, princess.”

Unfortunately, I do. Bile rushes up my throat but I swallow my revulsion and eagerly nod. Nothing beats going to Cade in this moment. “Yes, yes, Scar, I’ll do anything you want.”

I look at Cade, who hasn’t stopped staring at Scar.

Suddenly, I’m shoved forward, and then I’m stumbling toward Cade. His labored breathing makes my chest tighten as I drop to my knees before him, hands roaming over him.

“Oh God, baby, stay with me. I’ll—I’ll get you help—”

“Word of caution.” Scar’s words freeze me. “Don’t even think about doing anything stupid like trying to pull out the knife. He’ll only die faster—the blade’s lodged in his spleen.”

I whirl back on Scar as hot, scalding hate fills me, bleeding through my eyes. Cade lifts a trembling hand to cup my jaw, turning my attention back on him. His thumb swipes at the rivulets of tears running down my face.

“. . . hate it when you cry.Ça me donne envie de tuer quelqu’un.”

Makes me want to kill someone.

Is he delirious? I don’t even think Cade realizes he’s not speaking English.

“Don’t talk, Cade, please. Just breathe.”

The wound on his side is bleeding badly despite the knife still lodged in it. I need to staunch the wound. Without thinking, I yank off his shirt—my only covering—and press it to his side, modesty forgotten. The fabric soaks through in seconds.

“Si tu veux vivre, ouvre la porte,”Cade whispers.

Open the door if you want to live.

What’s he talking about?I press harder on the wound, my mind racing.

He collapses to the floor and takes me with him.

“Cade! Stay with me,” I cry.

“La porte, Luciana.”The words come through gritted teeth. “Ouvre-la, juste.”

Just open the door.

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