Page 233 of Inferno

He cocks the safety.

Bad move.

I twist, grab his wrist, shove it up, and slam my metal fist into his jaw. The gun fires wide. I hit him again, this time blood splattering from his mouth. His wrist snaps under my grip, and the gun falls. I grab his throat, slamming him into the crates, and beat him senseless.

Letting out all of my rage until his face is unrecognizable, as he’s gasping for air, I squeeze his throat. I only stop when I hear Charlotte’s cry rip through the warehouse.

Everything inside me ignites.

I squeeze harder, crushing his windpipe, watching life leave his eyes.

When he goes limp, I drop him and bolt for the door.

I come to a halt as I find her smashing a man’s face into the crates and tossing him onto the ground.

“Fuck you!” she screams, stomping his skull until it caves.

She looks up at me with blood on her brow and a beautiful fire in her eyes.

“You good?” she pants.

“Yeah, baby. You?”

She nods. “Felt good. He was an asshole. Better than the others though. Drago probably trained him.”

Jesus. This woman.

Her rage is a thing of beauty.

“Any more?” I ask.

“Negative. Just Vlad and the driver. They haven’t moved,” Conan replies.

“You think you can take on two more?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“We need backup west side!” Reggie shouts through the comm.

“We’re coming,” Mikhail grunts.

It’s time to end this.

Chapter 89

CHARLOTTE

"Is she outside?" I ask, my voice raw and scraping against my throat.

Declan chews his lip, the tension in his jaw pulsing. "We have no sightings, baby. We gotta go out there."

This is exactly what the bastard wanted. Sending his men in was never the plan, just another way to stir the pot, to rattle us, to test the waters. A distraction. A twisted little appetizer before the main course of his chaos. This isn’t even close to how dark Vlad’s mind runs.

"Remember what you promised me, Declan," I whisper, more steel than plea. "He came here for me."

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes clouded, darker than I’ve seen them in days.

"I’m not letting you go without a fight, heartbreaker."

A chill rides down my spine. He laces our fingers together, grounding me, and presses a cool, heavy gun into my palm. I stare into his eyes—those eyes that have seen too much but still look at me like I’m something worth saving. A heat blooms in my chest, fierce and aching.

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