Page 180 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

Why? My eyes dart to the kitchen door, then to Scar looming behind me. Even if I could get to my feet without being caught, where would I run to? I’m buck naked—

“Trust me, Luciana.” It comes out soft but edged with that unmistakable bite of authority. He might as well have roared it for the effect it has on me because I stop thinking and explode from the floor, almost slipping in the widening pool of blood.

My bare feet find purchase, slapping on tile as I sprint for the door, heart thundering.

Just to get the door. Just get to the door. Just—

White hot pain shoots through my scalp as Scar yanks me back, his fist tangling in my hair.

“Where do you think you’re running off to, princess?”

“Please,” I gasp. My feet barely touch the floor, but I keep inching forward, desperately reaching for the door knob. “I’m going to be sick—”

“Liar. Such a fucking liar.”

“Scar, please! I just need—” My fingers brush the brushed steel knob, but Scar hauls me back before I can get a firm grip.

“Need what? To scream for help? No one’s coming for you. You’re going to stay here and console me. Over and over again until your heart gives out. Or I stop hurting—whichever comes first.”

I sob as his arm bands around my naked torso, his hand slowly creeping over my skin. The coarse drag of his ruined fingertips is a chilling reminder of the anomaly he is.

Revulsion flares hot and fierce, fueling the strength I need to stretch for the last inch.

My shoulder feels like it’s popping from the strain, but I block out the pain as my hand closes around the door knob. I twist it just as Scar yanks me backward, and the motion flings the door wide open.

What happens next unfolds in slow motion.

A crouching shadow. Red eyes. Then a huge blur of black muscle launches through the doorway.

Saint moves like a demon unleashed, and I find myself crashing forward into the doorframe as Scar’s grip suddenly vanishes.

The scream that follows doesn’t sound human. It cuts off in a wet gurgle that turns my blood to ice. I slide down the doorframe, shuddering, hands clapping over my ears because I already know what’s happening behind me.

Still, I can’t make myself not look back.

Scar is on the floor. Saint’s massive jaws are locked around his throat like a steel trap as the dog shakes his head from side to side, powerful muscles rippling under black fur. Blood arcs in a crimson spray, misting my skin. Scar’s legs kick out twice, then still.

It’s over in seconds. Saint releases his grip and backs away, sides heaving, muzzle dripping red. He settles on his belly, paws outstretched on Cade’s leg, eyes fixed on Cade with terrible devotion while emitting a soft whine like a puppy.

I’m still frozen in horror, my mouth open in a soundless scream, eyes bugged out as my brain struggles to process what just happened.

“Luciana.” Cade’s pained groan snaps me back to reality.

I scramble over to Cade, my entire body shaking violently. I can’t even look at Saint or the mangled mess that Scar is. If I do, I’ll lose my shit and run out into the street naked and screaming.

“He-He—Saint. He’s killed . . .” I swallow hard. “Scar’s d-dead.”

“I know.” Cade’s voice comes weak, but there’s something in it—pride maybe, or relief. Even dying, he’s trying to steady me.

Cade’s last command echoes in my head.Derek is your father now, St. Michael.Was that some kind of code to kill Scar? How many other codes does the dog know?

“Quick.” Cade gasps, snapping me out of my spiral. “Phone . . . back pocket . . . triple 4 . . . triple 8.” Each word is punctuated with a shallow breath.

I reach around him for the phone, hands slick with blood and shaking so bad the fingerprint reader keeps rejecting me. I wipe my hands on my thigh and try again. And again. The third time, it finally unlocks.

As I go to type in the numbers, the phone vibrates with an incoming call from an unknown caller.

“Hello!” I shout.

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