Page 52 of God of War

"Cristo, Juan. Get her under control," Nicolas snaps impatiently. "Whatever it takes."

Juan wraps a hand around my throat, cutting off my air supply. I immediately stop fighting, terror curdling in my blood. Unlike with Naz, this isn't pleasure. This isn't rapture. This is hell.

Naz meets my gaze, torment raging in his eyes. "Let her go and I'll give you whatever you want," he says, the same pain in his voice. It breaks me because I know he means it. His life for mine, that's what he's offering.

I want to scream and rage, but I can't.

I can't even breathe.

Nicolas laughs as if the offer amuses him. "You bargain as if you have something we want, but you still do not understand. There is nothing, príncipe. We simply wish you out of our way."

Juan relaxes his hand around my throat, allowing me to pull in a breath. I choke on it, choke on tears. All this time, I was afraid of the wrong thing. I was so damn terrified the war between my father and Naz would get someone I loved killed, but that was never the real threat. It was always here. It was always this man. It was always Rojas.

"Even if you kill me, my father's people will never accept Rojas as their leader," Naz snaps, anger in his voice. "They will never bow to that malparido. He can take the cocaine fields, Nicolas, but he will never win their respect or loyalty. They will never work for him."

"Then they'll die too," Nicolas says as if it doesn't matter to him one way or another.

"Kill me, but tell your man to let Brynna go," Naz negotiates, his gaze flickering between me and Nicolas, desperate. "She has nothing to do with this. She is la inocente."

"I'm not leaving you, Nazario," I cry.

"You will," Naz says, his voice soft. "I told you that you would be safe with me, mi alma."

"Then you lied to her, Leyva," Nicolas says. "She won't leave this room alive, either."

"If you touch a hair on her head, my men will hunt you to the ends of this fucking earth," Naz growls, murder in his voice. I think he knows he won't be here to do it himself. I think…God, I think he knew as soon as he saw Nicolas that he wasn't leaving this room alive.

The realization breaks me. He isn't fighting for his life because it means nothing to him. But mine means everything.

Nicolas laughs again, his gaze drifting down my body in a way that makes my stomach heave. "She's a pretty little thing. Maybe I'll give her a couple pumps before we kill her, no?"

Pure murder contorts Naz's features, twisting them with rage as every muscle in his body goes taut.

"Naz!" His name is a sharp cry of terror bursting from my lips as he launches himself at Nicolas, roaring in outrage.

He crashes into Nicolas like a wall, knocking the gun from his hand.

"Fuck!" Nicolas roars as they crash to the ground. Despite being tied, Naz fights like hell, rolling around with Nicolas, kicking, headbutting him, using every advantage he can find. Nicolas can't buck him off or stop him. He can't even protect himself.

I don't have any sympathy. He taunted Naz one too many times, pushed him too far when he threatened me. For years, my father and brother have killed for less than what Nicolas just did. I hated it every time. This time, I want this man to pay. I want him to suffer. Because the look on Naz's face and the pain in his eyes—that's unforgivable.

"Fuck this," Juan mutters, reaching into his waistband to pull his gun.

I cry out, struggling in his grasp, fighting to keep him occupied—to give Naz time to deal with Nicolas. Maybe it's a losing battle. Maybe we still die at the end of this. But I refuse to make it easy for either one of these assholes. If they want to kill us, they're going to have to work for it.

"Stop fighting," Juan growls when I claw bloody marks down his arms.

"Go to hell," I snap, kicking backward as hard as I can. My foot connects with the inside of his thigh, making him grunt. I twist in his arms at the same time, ripping his hand off my arm.

The momentum sends me stumbling to my knees at his feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone standing behind him, a vase in his hands.

I don't think. I just react, trying to keep his attention on me. I reach out, grabbing his dick the same way he did my nipple. I squeeze as hard as I can, hoping it hurts like hell. Hoping I rip his balls off.

"You bitch," he grunts.

The man behind him lifts the vase over his head, cracking him over the head with him. Juan grunts, stumbling forward as his eyes roll back in his head.

I scrabble backward on my hands and knees, trying to get out of the way as he pitches forward, falling in a heap.

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