I check inside every door I pass, yelling her name over and over again. Energy that didn’t exist during the fight rages through my veins, and I sprint for the stairs. I don’t know how long ago someone got to her, or if she’s even still in the building. How many men did Vargas bring? How many were sitting with him? When did he get the balls to pull something like this off?
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Bella!” I yell when my feet hit the first step of the stairs.
This hurts more than being shot in the chest. I’d rather take a bullet a thousand times than for Bella to get hurt. In my head, I keep hearing the same thing, over and over again.
Bella is going to get hurt, and it’s all my fault.
I knew Vargas was there, and I still brought her. I knew Vargas’s base is Chicago, and I still came. I underestimated them. I knew Vargas could be a threat, and I did nothing. I practically handed Bella over to him.
I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.
I didn’t even tell the cops about Bella, just so they wouldn’t bother her, and twenty minutes ago, I claimed her in front of Vargas and every other fucker in the warehouse. How stupid can I be?
The emergency exit door swings open. I don’t feel the cold, or the glass digging into my bare feet, or my pounding heart. My entire body is attuned to her and the sound of her muffled screams in the distance.
But I can’t figure out which direction it’s coming from. “Bella!” I roar.
Then she lets out another scream.
Damien isn’t behind me anymore. We’re both racing through the empty streets toward the noise, using her blood-curdling screams and moonlight to guide us. I push myself harder, and so does he. The closer we get, the clearer the sounds become.
Grunting. Scuffling. Crying.
Then she comes into view, body half dragged along the ground by the fist in her hair toward the rugged van. She isn’t making this bastard’s job easy, clawing his arms, kicking at his feet to trip him, mouth snapping against the gag to try to bite him.
Then he hits her.
And I explode.
I fucking lose it.
“Bella!” I roar.
The asshole hurting Bella snaps his attention to me. He throws her to the side, and she lands with a scream, just as someone else comes running out of the van. My heart rattles in its cage when she looks at me with tears streaming down her face, a concoction of emotions swirling behind her red eyes. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. I want to put a bullet in myself for it.
The fucking cunt who hurt Bella snarls as he charges forward. I meet him halfway. I need this asshole to pay. For a split second, pride blooms at the sight of Bella’s art on his skin. Three bloody slashes run diagonally along his cheek.
He’s bulkier than the guy in the ring, faster too. I don’t dodge his first hit in time. He doesn’t miss my throw either.
Behind me, Damien grunts as he exchanges blows with the driver while a gun lays abandoned on the street.
Then the light from the streetlamp glints against metal, flashing through the air and onto my forearm. I snarl from the pain that thunders across my flesh as I collide my own fist against his jaw. We dance around a couple more hits, but there’s nothing that will save him from me.
He’s fighting to stay alive. I’m fighting for Bella.
There’s no strategy or tact in my punches as I knock the knife out of his hand. My muscles move in pure rage. I can’t feel the pain in my arm anymore. Every hit lacks its usual thrill, and it doesn’t matter how many times I kick him or feel his bones crack, the surging, white-hot anger doesn’t dissipate.
He made Bella bleed.
He tried to take her away from me.
He hurt her.
The driver pulls me off him, but someone tackles him a second later, leaving me to continue with my assault on the man who hurt her. He reaches for the gun, but Rico grabs it before he can, going to help his brother.
I yank the man back to me by the collar of his shirt and descend my fists on any part of him I can reach. The fire isn’t doused when he’s on the ground, and I’m seconds away from killing him with my fists alone.
I put Bella at risk. I got her hurt. I failed her. I need to kill them all.
“Roman, stop!” Damien tries dragging me off. The mother fucker isn’t conscious, but I’m not finished. He needs to die for what he did. They all need to fucking pay. “Take your girl and get the hell out of here.”
My girl.
I whip around to find Bella sprawled on the ground, leaning against Rico for support. Why the fuck is he touching her?
The harsh moonlight isn’t enough to see the damage clearly, but what I can gather makes me want to keel over. Tears stream down her face, tangling with the red droplets falling from the split in her soft cheek. The delicate skin of her hands is bloody and bruised, too.