Page 179 of Dukes Are Forever
"You have five minutes to find me, or I'll cut her throat."
Malloryn went cold.
He'd cut her throat anyway.
"If you hurt her in any way," his voice came out hard and cold, "then I will not simply kill you. I'll destroy you."
But he knew Balfour.
The bastard wouldn't hurt her until Malloryn was there to watch it happen.
"Tick, tock, Malloryn."
He had five minutes to rescue Adele.
* * *
Heat searedthe air as Malloryn fought his way through gusts of fire.
Lark and the others had appeared just as he and Charlie cleared the stairs. He'd taken one look at Ingrid in Byrnes's arms and swallowed the hot lash of fury inside him. This was Balfour's doing. They'd done their best.
"Get out of here," he'd said curtly. "Get to the rooftop and evacuate."
And Ingrid must have been hurt badly, for Byrnes didn't bother to argue.
Lark and Charlie exchanged a slow look.
But they didn't follow him.
Smoke nearly stole his breath as he climbed the stairs once again, the intensity of the heat drying his lips and skin. His eyes stung. Only long-time familiarity with this place allowed him to make his way toward the throne room.
Balfour would be waiting for him there.
He knew it.
Shoving his way through the enormous double doors that led into the throne room, he found small respite from the updraft of smoke and flames that licked at the hollow core of the tower.
He wasn't alone.
Balfour turned to face him, his boots crunching on the broken glass that had fallen from the atrium roof. He had Adele's back against his chest, his knife held tight against her throat. Smoke poured up through the ceiling, leaving the room clear enough to see.
They stared at each other for a long moment, Malloryn's pistol trained on Balfour's head.
Then his gaze cut to Adele's, and it felt as though he lay splayed on an altar before Balfour, his chest cut open and his heart exposed for all the world to see. He'd never meant to let her in. He'd never meant to fall. But somehow, Adele had slipped beneath his guard when he least expected it.
It was like reliving the past; Catherine begging for him to leave, and Balfour turning the pistol from Malloryn's chest to hers.
This time it was Adele on the sacrificial altar.
Not her. Please not her. He'd only just started to realize how much he loved her.
"Hello, Malloryn."
"Let her go."
Balfour gave him a thin smile. "I don't think so. Put the pistol down."
The second he did, she was dead.
