Page 55 of From the Ashes

There are three men dressed in all black. Ski masks cover their faces as they move toward the house.

Oh fuck.

This is really happening.

I’m really in danger.

I pick up my pace, keeping my eye on what’s ahead of me as well as behind me, but by the time I reach the office, I can barely breathe. How many are there? Three in the backyard. At least one in the house. They would probably have at least one at each of the doors in and out of the house. I don’t have enough bullets in this gun to take them all down on my own, and I can’t think of anywhere close that my dad has one hidden.

Without hesitating for another second, I push the office door open as quietly as I can and slip inside.

I take a second to look around the space, my stomach rolling as I stare at the place my father took his final breaths for a moment longer than I should allow myself, before I move to the bookcase and start pulling out books.

“Which one is it?” With each second that passes, the panic gets thicker, and I’m struggling to force coherent thoughts to the front of my mind.

I step back and take a deep breath, staring at the bookcase as I get my bearings. I know this. We did drills like this a few times a year when I was growing up. I’ve done this a hundred times before.

I spot the old copy of The Great Gatsby, my father’s favorite book, and quickly pull it out. The bookcase whirs softly as it pulls away from the wall and uncovers the door to the panic room.

I type in the code and slip inside without another second of hesitation, and it’s only when my back hits the wall and I slide to the floor that I finally allow the emotions to wash over me.

A sob claws up the back of my throat as I crawl further into the space. It’s not as small as you might expect, complete with a full bed, a couch, and a wall of screens that show every camera in the estate.

As much as I would like to fall apart right now, there’s too much I need to do before I can allow it.

My eyes flick over the screens, spotting five men on the estate with masks, presumably here to hurt me. Where are my guards? They should have been able to fend off this number of men.

Unless there are more at the gate, I think to myself.

I need backup.

I pull my phone from my pocket to call Crew, but when I find a message from Kovu waiting for me, my stomach sinks.

There’s an image attached, and I regret opening it almost as soon as my finger hits the screen.

A photo of Kovu beside the lattice beneath my bedroom window with blood covering his face makes my breath stutter in my lungs a moment before a follow-up message comes through.

Kovu: I’m sure it goes without saying. It’s him or it’s you, make your choice quickly.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

KOVU

I’m climbing over the back fence when I notice men in ski masks circling the house, and I’m immediately on high alert.

Camilla was meant to be going home with the guys tonight, but after a change of plans, I dropped what I was doing to come here, and it’s fucking lucky I did.

I sneak through the trees I chased Camilla through just a few days ago, but this time my gun is in my hands as I slip through the darkness without being seen.

From the edge of the tree line, I see there are four guys, but there are probably more around the front. I’d like to say I didn’t know who was here for her, but it’s obvious the threat Charles and Caleb made earlier in the week was not idle.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I slink back into the brush of trees before checking it.

Camilla: Did you just get to the estate?

A moment of panic flares in my chest a moment before reason clicks into place. I will kill every fucking asshole who thinks about hurting my little lamb, but I can’t do that if I don’t know she’s safe.

Kovu: Panic room. Right now!

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