Page 115 of Fool Me Twice

Everyone’s heads turned.

Hart distantly recognized the person framed there. Blond. Pretty. Looking a little lost. Hart was sure he had seen them before, but the thought dissolved in the mire of his rage.

“I’m sorry, the office is closed due to…unforeseen circumstances,” Taylor said, stepping up to the newcomer.

The guy’s eyes were wide as they fixed on Hart and Cane, then they shifted to the side and lit up as they reached Fix.

“I can see you’re busy, but this is really important,” he implored, stepping toward him. “If I could just talk to you—”

“Can’t it wait?” Fix cut him off tersely, his frown making his eyebrows heavy.

The guy seemed both surprised and gutted at the response, stopping in his tracks and shrinking back. “Well…”

“Leave your name and number at the desk,” Fix said, gesturing vaguely, his attention already a million miles away. “We’re in the middle of something important here.”

The guy swallowed, took a second, and then slunk out of the foyer without a single look back, and Hart kicked again, trying to follow in his footsteps. Freedom was in that direction. He just had to get to it.

“Hand him over,” Ash said to Cane. “Damir needs to brief you once he gets his head out of the clouds.”

Hart fought harder as he was passed between them like a sack of potatoes. Fix came to the other side of him, everything else forgotten.

“This is for your own good,” Fix said softly. “Once it’s over, you’ll see.”

Hart punched and kicked his way down the halls, screaming bloody murder.

Everything in his body was rebelling.

He whipped his head back and forth, looking at the familiar doors and hallways and mapping out his exit plans when they suddenly turned a sharp left right before the meeting room.

“NO!” he screamed, realizing they were taking him one floor down. Underground.

There were no exits there. No windows. No way to escape.

“LET ME GO!” he yelled at them, frustration building as he realized nobody was paying him any attention.

Fix and Ash had an unbreakable hold on him, their combined muscle mass about three times what Hart was packing. He had no way of shaking them off.

There was a cacophony of other steps and voices behind them. Distantly, he heard Damir talking to Cane. Deep down, Hart knew Damir already had a team, but he couldn’t help but rage at how quickly and easily they’d found a replacement for him.

Like he wasn’t theirs at all.

“Right here,” Ash said, and someone scurried forward to open the door to the smallest storage room they had.

Ash and Fix pushed Hart toward it, and he kicked, lifting his legs into the air and bracing them against the doorframe, refusing to even entertain the thought of being placed inside.

“NO!” he screamed, but someone’s hands gripped his knees and brought them together, allowing Fix and Ash to force him inside.

They lowered him to the floor and backed away. The door slammed behind them, the sound of the lock echoing, and Hart detected a single breath behind him.

He whipped around to see Cane standing in the room with him, his eyes focused on Hart, intent and fierce as they held his own.

Hart couldn’t concentrate on that though, instead, he was horrified as he glanced around the room.

There were mirrors everywhere, mismatched, some big, some small, but they were covering every wall and the ceiling. He saw himself reflected back in every one, unable to escape wherever he looked.

Rage filled him and he ran over and smashed one outright with his bound hands before Cane grasped him around the middle and yanked him back.

“Stop, Hart!”

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