Page 123 of The Vow

“No!”The father screeched wildly, a torrent of commands snarling through his lips in Pakistani at his own security who veered toward me. Their boots shook the ground underneath us, and I wasn’t the only target.

Amir clearly blamed everyone in this room for his son’s death and had now turned not only on Damon and me but also on Belmont.

Pandemonium erupted.

Belmont, seeing the rapid decay of the situation, grabbed whichever of his guards he could reach and pulled them in front to shield him so he could flee out the backof the house.

“Run now, Robber,” Damon shouted, struggling against his captors.

And then I saw him. Peter. Heading straight through the chaos toward my husband. His bandaged hand rose, and then I saw the blade flip open and glint off the light. And Damon had no idea he was coming up behind him.

“Damon!” I screamed, but it wasn’t enough.

Damon turned just as Peter buried the blade in my husband’s side with a vengeful smile.No.

Silver eyes found mine, pleading, but I wouldn’t leave him. I couldn’t.

Bodies blurred. Sounds distorted. There was nothing but the distance between me and Damon and what I had to do to close it.

Hands grabbed at me. Pulled me back. I screamed and clawed—fought as my husband dropped to his knees, his black jacket glistening with dark blood.

I felt them holding me back. Threatening me. In my periphery, Amir’s hate- and hurt-scarred face locked on mine as he grabbed a weapon from one of his men.

He only had one intent: to bury a bullet in my chest.

I struggled and twisted until I was sure I’d ripped my shoulder from its socket.

Amir stalked toward me, tears scraping down his cheeks as he lifted the gun. He said something—I knew because I saw his mouth move, but all I heard was the sound that erupted from Damon’s chest.

He’d broken free from the men holding him and was lunging toward me.

Amir swung the gun toward Damon.

I screamed.

And then the building shattered with a deafening boom.

The room swam into focus along with the men in it. Dozens of men wearing uniforms marked with three letters.

FBI.

My arms protested as I tried to push myself up. I had to get up. I had to get to Damon—get him out of here.

“Easy, Miss.” One of the agents grabbed my arm to help me, and when I tried to pull away, he assured me, “I’m with the FBI. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

No.I wanted to scream, but my throat wouldn’t work.

I lifted my head, squinting through the smoke that just started to settle from the flash bangs they’d let loose as soon as they’d crashed through the windows.

The men who’d held me were on the ground, one with a gunshot through his head, the other possibly just unconscious. My gaze stumbled farther, seeing the cuffs tightening on a barely conscious Amir Shazad, who was now just shaking his head and crying at the loss of his son.

“Miss. Are you all right?”

I tried to swallow, my tongue feeling a thousand pounds in my mouth.

The FBI was here.

How? Who—a strangled cry exploded from my lips when I saw him.

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