Page 97 of Blood Heir

Cassian’s voice cuts through my haze. “Behind you—”

Another man charges. My legs buckle under the weight of both attackers, and they slam me into the floor. My shoulder hits first; agony shoots up my arm.

Hands grab my wrists, twisting them behind my back with brutal force. Metal cuffs bite into raw skin as they clamp tight. I thrash, but it’s useless. They’re stronger. I can’t breathe.

Cassian’s taken down beside me, face bloodied, panting. I see the gun stock collide with his temple before they yank him upright.

We’re both forced onto our knees, heads yanked back by fists gripping our hair.

Then I see him.

Gustavo steps into view, his smug grin wide, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His knuckles are already wrapped in leather, prepared. Like he was waiting for this.

“Going somewhere, cousin?” His voice drips with venom.

I don’t answer. I glare.

His punch lands square across my cheekbone. My head whips sideways, white flashing behind my eyes. Warm blood spills into my mouth from my split lip. The men holding me yank me upright again.

“Didn’t quite hear you,” Gustavo mocks. “Where the fuck were you running off to?”

My chest heaves. I spit blood at his feet.

Gustavo’s face twists in rage, and he slams the butt of his pistol across Cassian’s face. Cassian drops again, coughing out blood.

The guards tighten their grip on both of us. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I keep my head up.

The windows behind him shatter.

A violent, sharp crack fills the air, glass spraying like jagged rain across the room. The guards react instantly, guns swinging toward the breach.

A small black canister sails through the open window.

It hits the floor and rolls once.

The blinking red light on top flashes. Fast.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Shit!” Gustavo stumbles back.

“DOWN!” I roar. The blast is deafening.

A concussive force tears through the air, the shockwave knocking guards off their feet. Shards of marble explode upward like shrapnel. Smoke swallows the room whole, thick and blinding.

In the confusion, the grip on my arms loosens. I twist free, swinging my fists hard into the closest guard’s temple. He drops like a stone. Cassian stumbles up, bleeding and dazed, and I hook an arm under his.

We sprint through the smoke-choked air, stumbling into the hallway as shouts erupt behind us. The air is thick, burning my lungs. My ribs scream with every step, but I drag Cassian along, both of us moving like hunted animals.

The hallway is chaos. Smoke billows from the shattered room behind us, fire alarms blaring like screaming sirens, and then I hear them—boots pounding, men yelling, the metallic clatter of magazines being slammed into rifles.

Cassian staggers next to me, blood dripping from his brow, his face pale, but his grip is tight on the pistol he’s just pulled off one of the guards.

“They’re coming.” His voice is hoarse.

“No shit.”

The first of Gustavo’s men round the corner, weapons raised. Three of them. I lunge forward before they can aim, using the momentum of my wrists like a club.

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