Page 36 of Say You're Mine

"Enough," Dante cuts him off, shooting him a quelling look. "The point is Sarah's intel has been invaluable. Thanks to her, we know where they're keeping June. And more importantly, we know how to get him out."

Hope and terror war in my chest, a dizzying cocktail of emotions that threatens to send me to my knees. "Where?" I manage to choke out, my fingers digging into the soft leather of my chair. "Where are they holding him?"

Natalie reaches out, laying a steadying hand on my arm. "A private facility upstate," she says gently, her eyes full of sympathy. "Heavily guarded, state-of-the-art security. But not impenetrable."

"We've got a man on the inside," Nina pipes up, her fingers never ceasing their dance across the keys. "A guard named Romero. He's been feeding us information, smuggling in supplies. With his help, we should be able to breach the perimeter and extract June with minimal casualties."

"Should be?" I echo, my voice rising in pitch. "Minimal casualties? Jesus Christ, this isn't a fucking video game! That's my husband in there, the father of my child! I can't just sit back and hope for the best while you guys play at being action heroes!"

"Cara," Dante says, his voice sharp with rebuke. "No one's playing at anything. This is deadly serious, and we're all acutely aware of what's at stake. But you need to understand...there's no version of this that doesn't end in blood. Elaine's not going to let June go without a fight, and we need to be prepared for that."

I open my mouth to argue, to rage and rail against the unfairness of it all, but the words die on my tongue. Because as much as I hate to admit it, Dante's right. This is the only way, the only chance we have of bringing June home alive. And if that means wading through an ocean of blood and bullets, of staining my hands with the sins of the father...then so be it.

"Okay," I say, my voice barely a rasp. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

Natalie and Dante exchange a long, loaded look, a silent conversation passing between them. When they turn back to me, there's a new gravity in their expressions, a weight that settles like lead in my stomach.

"We need you to be our bait," Natalie says softly, apology and steel mingling in her gaze. "Elaine's fixated on you, sees you as the key to controlling June. If we dangle you in front of her, make her think she's finally got you in her clutches...she'll let her guard down. And that's when we'll strike."

Fear clogs my throat, a visceral, animal terror that threatens to choke the air from my lungs. The thought of putting myself at Elaine's mercy, of offering myself up like a lamb to the slaughter...it's almost more than I can bear.

But beneath the fear, there's something else. A spark, an ember, a burning coal of rage and defiance that refuses to be extinguished. Because this is for June. For our child, for the future we promised each other in whispered vows and fevered touches.

I will walk through fire for him. I will face down the devil herself, will stare into the abyss until it blinks first. I will be the bait, the lure, the sacrificial lamb...and when the time is right, I will bare my teeth and remind them all that even lambs can bite.

"Tell me what I need to do," I say, my voice ringing with a conviction I hardly recognize. "I'm ready."

And as I sit there, surrounded by killers and thieves, by the most dangerous men and women in the city, I feel a strange sense of peace settle over me. A clarity, a certainty, a bone-deep knowledge that this is my path, my purpose, the role I was born to play.

Chapter eleven

June

The fluorescent lights flicker and buzz, a maddening electric mosquito, but that irritation pales compared to the raw lightning spearing between my ears.

"132...133..."

Dr. Faulkner's nasal voice drones on, each number a chisel chipping away at my sanity. I grind my teeth, tasting metal on my tongue, as another surge of voltage rips through me. My bones vibrate and tendons snap taut, as if the sadistic fuck is trying to play me like a human guitar.

"Tell me, Juniper," he croons, trailing a latex-clad finger along a particularly livid scar, "where is your precious Cara now? What would she think, seeing you like this?"

I swallow a howl as his nail finds a fresh laceration and digs deep. "Fuck you," I rasp, my voice a ruined husk of its former self. "You leave her out of this, you sick bastard."

Faulkner tsks, eyes glittering with malice behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Oh, but she's already so deeply entangled, isn't she? The delicate little flower who thinks she can weather the storm of Deveaux family politics."

I surge against my restraints, ignoring the white-hot agony that lances through my nerve endings. "If you touch her, if you even breathe in her direction, I swear to God I'll - "

"You'll what?" He cuts me off with a sharp bark of laughter. "Bleed on me? Whimper and moan and beg for mercy? Face it, Juniper. You're in no position to be making threats."

He leans in close, his hot, sour breath washing over my face. "But perhaps we can come to an arrangement. A little quid pro quo, if you will. You give me what I want - a nice, pliant puppet to dance to the Deveaux tune - and I'll ensure your precious Cara remains untouched. Protected, even, from the worst of your mother's machinations."

I bare my teeth in a snarl, even as a flicker of doubt curls in my gut. "And why the hell should I believe a single word that comes out of your lying mouth?"

Faulkner shrugs, a oily smile playing at the corners of his thin lips. "Believe me, don't believe me. The choice is yours. But know this - Elaine's patience is wearing thin. And when it snaps completely..."

He makes a slashing motion across his throat, a parody of a grin stretching his gaunt features. "Well. Let's just say that pretty little artist won't be so pretty anymore. And as for the brat she's carrying..."

Red. Crimson. Scarlet.

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