Only there was no relief.
Because she screamed, “Ryder!” just as the blow came from out of nowhere. The office chair cracked against the back of my head. It sent me to my knees, knocking the knife from my hand and sending the metal clattering against the floor. I fought to hold Kayden against me, fully wrapping myself around him, trying to protect him from the attack while Dare jumped onto me from behind.
Fists kept cracking against the back of my skull and my temples. Doing their best to black me out.
I managed to get Kayden to his feet, yelling, “Dakota! Get Kayden and get out of here!” at the same time as I threw an elbow into Dare’s gut.
It knocked him back enough that I was able to turn around, though he was on me again in a flash, pushing me to the ground as he threw a fist into my face.
It cracked into my jaw. Pain screamed, but I didn’t care. I rammed my forehead into his nose.
He howled as blood gushed, and he came back at me full strength. “You think you can play me? Have you forgotten who I am?” he wheezed. I think it was then he knew the depths that I had gone. That his building was now surrounded by a slew of agents.
That he had no way out.
I kicked and punched, but the fucker was huge, and he got his hands around my neck.
He squeezed, and I clawed at his hands while dragging up a knee, trying to hit in any spot that would make him lose hold.
Another round of gunshots rang out, this time so many, a blitz going down on the other side of the wall.
And I prayed that Ezra was holding his own. That he was safe. That he was razing the depraved assholes that roamed this city.
“You piece of shit. I will kill you,” Dare grumbled through the exertion, squeezing tighter. “You betrayed me, after everything I did for you.”
My consciousness ebbed, coherency fading as he cinched his hands tighter around my neck.
Suddenly, his eyes went wide, and he roared, releasing me as he whipped around and climbed to his feet.
I rolled over, choking and gasping for air, desperate to draw it into my lungs.
In my blurred sight, I registered that Dakota was backing away, pushing Kayden behind her, her hand trembling as she held up the knife. A knife that dripped with blood.
She’d stabbed him.
Saved me.
“Stay back. Stay away from us.” She could barely get the words out around the quivering of her mouth.
Dare lumbered that way, injured, though the aggression and adrenaline kept him standing. “You fucking bitch. I should have killed you years ago. Slit your fucking throat while you were riding my cock.”
She jabbed at him when he got close, missing, and his hand swung out, cracking her against the face. The momentum slammed her against the wall. She hit it hard and tumbled onto the ground.
Kayden wailed.
Fury pounded through me, and he went to go for her again, but I was already on my feet, jumping onto his back. My arm locked around his throat that time, and I pulled so hard that he dropped to his knees.
And I didn’t let go.
I squeezed as his nails raked at my arms. As he gurgled and fought. As he tried to toss me off.
“This is for every kid you ever got addicted,” I growled at his ear. “For every person you’ve ever hurt. For Amelia. But most of all, for Dakota and Kayden, so they never have to spend one second of their lives worried about you.”
The fingers clawing at my arms began to fail, and his arms dropped to his sides.
I held fast until the blood ceased to beat in his body.
One second later, the door burst open, and Ezra came through with his gun drawn, followed by three DEA agents.
I let the fucker go.
He flopped face-first onto the ground.
I went to go for Kayden and Dakota, but Ezra put his hand out, stopping me. “Don’t move, Ryder. Stay right there.”
I gulped, helpless to do anything as Ezra and the agents cleared the room before a group of paramedics descended.
A minute later the agent I’d met with after I’d contacted Ezra appeared in the doorway. “Come with me.”
FORTY-EIGHT
RYDER
How many hours I’d spent in the office the size of a tissue box, I didn’t know. The only thing I knew was I’d itched, continually scrubbing my palms over my face and yanking at my hair as they asked me the same fucking questions over and over again.
My story needed to be straight.
I thought the only question worthy of being answered right then was the one I kept asking. “Are they okay? Someone tell me if they’re fucking okay.”
I didn’t care if they charged me.
If they put me behind bars for the rest of my life.