Page 60 of My Silver Fox Savior

“Tell him,” Damon shouts, glaring down at me. “He has to do this for you, hot stuff.” He puts heavy sarcasm onhot stuff. “If you don’t make him see sense, I’ll place a shot right here.” He pokes me in the forehead. “If I’m lucky, it’ll go right through your empty head and take out your friend with the same bullet.”

I can feel Maddie’s fear by her shuddering since we’re tied back to back. It’s a reverberation of pure terror.

“Landon,” I whisper, turning to him, hating the tears that prick my eyes. Landon has brought my emotions closer to the surface than anybody ever has. “You have to do what he says. For Maddie.”

“And for you,” Damon grunts. “Look at him, sweetie pie. Do you think he gives a fuck abouther? He can’t keep his eyes off you. If it wasn’t so disgusting, I might almost be moved.”

“Do you think this means anything?” I hiss. “If he gets on his knees and begs, what do you think?—”

I stop when he pulls out a gun and shoves it right against my mouth. A primal, deep-rooted impulse twinges inside me, a voice roaring to do what he says, not to make him mad, to stop trying to be clever and reason with him.

“Not got much to say now, have you?”

“Leave her alone,” Landon growls.

Damon turns to him but keeps the gun against my head. I can hear Maddie crying through her gag. More unbearable than that, I can feel her shaking against me. Her chair makestsk-tsknoises as the legs rasp against the floor. It’s like she’s about to have a full-blown panic attack. I can’t blame her. I blame myself.

“That’s up to you, buddy,” Damon says. “You’re not a soldier. No need to stand at attention.Get on your fucking knees.”

When Landon slowly drops to his knees, Damon makes the ugliest, most vicious noise of satisfaction. “Yes, yes,” he whispers.

It looks so strange seeing somebody so powerful and self-possessed like this. All around us, men laugh coldly, low, and torturous. It reminds me of high school. All these men are nothing but overgrown bullies.

Damon removes the gun from my head and walks across the bar to kneeling Landon. He puts the gun against Landon’s head and then looks at me with a cocky grin of pure victory, a grin that says,I’m in control, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Shall I ask her to choose, Landon?” he says. “Head or heart, hmm, Lily? What do you think?” He moves the gun toward Landon’s chest, then back to his head, a pendulum back and forth. “Would you prefer to see his hair spattered all over the floor or a big hole in his chest? Which one, Lily?”

Maddie’s trembling is getting out of control now. The guilt practically drowns me. I know I’ll never be able to make this up to her if we ever get out of here. The chair legs judder around. She’s shaking so much that even my chair leaps everywhere.

“Jesus Christ,” Damon growls. “Will you tell that bitch to stop? I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

“She suffers from panic attacks sometimes,” I say in the calmest voice I can manage. It’s difficult when the prospect of my man’s death is so close—far closer than learning about it through a doctor’s appointment. “She can’t help it. She needs space and time to calm down.”

“I’ve got a simpler idea,” Damon snaps, walking back across the room.

I can’t see him when he walks around to face Maddie, but I know he must be pointing his gun at her. I can feel it in the mayhem it causes in her body. She’s shaking all over. Then she begins to scream through the gag, a sound that cuts me to my core.

“You’ve got five seconds to stop, missy,” he growls. “Otherwise, your friend will feel a warm splatter on the back of her head. Is that what you want, hmm? Remember what I said? One bullet could take both of you. Soshut the fuck up.Five, four, three …”

Maddie’s panic gets so intense that the tied-together chairs fall sideways.

I grunt when my shoulder slams into the sticky bar floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LANDON

Before the diagnosis, the logical Landon never would’ve considered what I was about to do. It’s like time slows as the chairs fall to the floor. Lily lets out a yelp of shock and fear, giving me all the fuel I need. Something in me hardens when she slams into the floor: a primal instinct, the animal, the demon. Whatever the fuck the world wants to call it.

I leap to my feet and spring at the man with the broken nose. He roars as I reach into his waistband, snatch the gun free, and then spin and fire a shot right at Damon. The muzzle flash blinds us, but when my vision returns a moment later—my ears are ringing like crazy—I see Damon drop to the floor. Maddie screams even louder through the bindings.

I dart at the man with the broken nose, wrap my arm around his throat, and bring the gun to his head. It all happens so damn fast. It’s like I black out again, but not as literally.

“Fuck,” my hostage gasps as I drive the gun against the side of his head. “Fuck, fuck …”

I begin dragging the man toward the chairs. The other men are all closing in on me, all with their guns in their hands now. There are at least seven of them. The metal of their weapons gleam. I want to lean down and pick Lily and her friend up, but I can’t let go of this man.

Damon has died quickly, making no noise except for a gurgle. Adrenalin pumps through me, but it seems distant. Just like the last time I committed murder, there’s no guilt. There’s no shame. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with me.

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