Page 51 of Crystal Wrath
Those eyes lock with mine across the small room, and the relief that slams into my chest threatens to overwhelm every other emotion. She's alive. She's conscious. She's here, and I can protect her now.
“Mmmph!” The sound comes from behind the tape covering her mouth, desperate, hopeful, and heartbreaking all at once.
I cross the room in three long strides, dropping to my knees beside her. My hands shake as I reach for the edge of the tape, fury, and relief warring in my chest as I see the red marks where the adhesive has irritated her skin.
I tear the tape from her mouth as gently as I can manage, but she still gasps in pain as it pulls away.
“Renat...” Her voice is raw, broken from hours of breathing through her nose, but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
Her lips are swollen and cracked, and her breathing is shallow and rapid. I can see the places where the rope has cut into her wrists, the skin raw and bleeding from her struggles. Fresh rage builds in my chest, hot and clean and absolutely murderous.
I slice through the rest of her bindings, my combat knife parting the thick rope like it's made of paper. She flinches as circulation returns to her hands and feet, but she doesn't make a sound. Always so strong, even now.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, running my hands over her arms and shoulders, checking for injuries I might have missed. “Did they...” I can't finish the question. The thought of Bennato's men touching her, hurting her in ways that would leave scars deeper than rope burns, makes me want to burn this entire structure to the ground with everyone inside.
She shakes her head quickly, understanding what I can't bring myself to voice. “We're okay. Mostly. But we tried to get out.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes dart toward the corner of the room, where several floorboards have been pried up, revealing the dark water below. “There's a boat under the house. We found it when we were looking for a way out. We were trying to drop down and use it to escape, but Bennato's men caught us before we could get through the floor.”
My back teeth clench together as I imagine the scene. Elena and Amelia, working desperately with their bare hands to create an escape route, probably cutting themselves on the roughwood and rusty nails. Fighting for their freedom even when the situation seemed hopeless.
“They taped us up again after that,” she continues, her voice gaining strength as she talks. “Said the boss wanted to talk to us personally when he got back.”
I help her sit up, supporting her weight as the feeling returns to her legs. She's shaking, with fine tremors running through her entire body, but her voice is steady, and her eyes are clear. No signs of serious injury or drug-induced confusion.
“You were smart to try,” I tell her, meaning every word. “I'm getting you out of here. Both of you.”
I turn my attention to Amelia, who's been watching our reunion with desperate hope in her bright blue eyes. Her honey-blonde hair is matted with sweat and tears, and her designer clothes are rumpled and stained. But she's alive, conscious, and apparently unharmed beyond the rope burns on her wrists.
I cut through her restraints quickly, my hands steady despite the urgency building in my chest. Every second we spend in this room is another chance for Bennato to return.
“Can you walk?” I ask Amelia as I help her sit up.
She nods, testing her legs gingerly. “I think so. Everything's just...numb.”
“The feeling will come back.” I stand and extend my hand to Elena, who accepts it without hesitation. Her fingers are cold against mine, but her grip is strong. “We need to move. Now.”
She tries to stand on her own, but her legs buckle after hours of being bound in the same position. I catch her before she can fall, lifting her into my arms despite her immediate protests.
“I can walk,” she insists, but her voice lacks conviction.
“Not fast enough.” I adjust my grip, making sure she's secure against my chest. She weighs almost nothing, all sharp angles and a determined spirit wrapped in a deceptively delicate packaging. “And I'm not taking any chances.”
She doesn't argue further, instead wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her face against my shoulder. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, rapid but steady.
We head for the back of the house, moving as quickly as stealth allows. Amelia follows behind us, her designer heels clicking softly on the warped floorboards despite her efforts at silence. The gunfire outside has intensified, Sergey's team keeping Bennato's men occupied while we make our escape.
I can hear my pulse in my ears, a steady rhythm that matches our footsteps as we navigate the narrow hallway. Every shadow could hide an enemy. Every creak of the old building could be someone moving to intercept us.
We're halfway to the stairs when a spray of bullets tears through the wall beside us, splinters of wood and drywall exploding in all directions. Someone's figured out our position and probably spotted us through one of the broken windows. I pivot immediately, turning my body to shield Elena as much as possible while still maintaining forward momentum.
A sharp sting blooms on my left side, just below my ribcage. Hot and immediate and completely irrelevant compared to getting Elena to safety. I grunt and keep moving, my grip on her tightening protectively.
“Renat!” she cries, her hand sliding to my waist where warmth is already spreading through my shirt. “You're bleeding!”
“I’ve had worse,” I mutter, even though every step drives a sharp jolt through my ribs. The bullet went in at an angle and exited clean, missing anything vital. “We move now.”
