Page 105 of Her Mercenary

I jumped out of the car, sending the driver’s door popping on its hinges. The fog was as thick as smoke. The ding, ding, ding of the open-door alert carried on the air like a warning.

The scene unfolded around me bit by bit, the fog slowly revealing the scene of the wreck. The black sedan had hit a tree and was halfway in a ditch, both the driver’s and passenger side doors standing open.

The car was vacant.

“Sam!” I screamed.

“Roman!”

I froze, then spun around, pivoting away from the car and following her voice.

“Sam!” I jogged, my eyes wild and wide, trying to see through the goddamn fog.

An arm shot out of the mist, and then as if in slow motion, the silhouette of a man appeared, his head, shoulders, torso.

Lucas. Conor. My brother.

In that moment, I saw myself in him, and suddenly everything clicked. The guards at the lodge thought I was Conor because of my physical resemblance to the rumored description of the man. I’d never noticed it before. The nose, the eyebrows, the build. And I had the suit, the money, the self-assurance carried by someone of power.

What a mindfuck.

Conor was on top of Sam, who was writhing in his hold, her yellow dress saturated in mud and grime.

Rage exploded inside me.

This man’s father had killed my mother and obliterated what I knew to be family. This man had destroyed countless other families too, lives, daughters, wives.

He’d fucking tricked me. Played me.

More than all that, though—

This man had my fucking woman.

52

SAM

I could no longer feel Conor’s grip around my throat or the burn in my chest as my lungs screamed for oxygen. I could no longer hear my heartbeat, or his heavy breathing.

The world around me faded, and black dots slowly creeped into my vision.

But then, like a dream, I saw Roman through the fog, his massive silhouette pushing aside the gray mist like tendrils of smoke.

He came for me.

My mouth opened as I tried to scream out to him. My fingertips reached but felt nothing. My legs wanted to move but couldn’t.

Bright pops of light began bursting in my vision. I heard the deep baritone of his scream, but my brain couldn’t register the words.

Then darkness took over.

Suddenly, my body was jolted, nails ripping open the skin around my throat as Conor was pulled off my body.

Gasping for breath, I pulled my knees to my chest, rolling onto my side in the fetal position, sucking air that my lungs weren’t making room for.

Both men landed with a thud on the ground a few feet next to me, immediately engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Roman and his brother, fighting to the death.

I forced myself to a seated position, painfully swallowing the bile that rose with the rush of nausea. My throat was on fire.

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