Page 76 of The Sin

Roman noticed and went after him, grabbing a handful of tunic and slamming the man on the table.

I had the window open now and I slipped through.

A guttural cry of raw pain pulled my gaze back.

Roman was caught in a rigid spasm, probes hanging from the back of his left shoulder. The guard kept his finger on the trigger, kept the flow going, kept sending however many volts of energy that damn Taser discharged straight into Roman’s vibrating body.

Another guard swung his baton at Roman’s back, low, by his kidneys, and Roman toppled forward over the table. And yet another guard came at him with a pointed Taser, and another raised his baton into a high swing, murder in his eyes—and no!

“No!” I screamed, stepping back through the window. “Stop! Or I’ll jump. Iwilljump. I’ll disappear into the night and you will never catch me.”

They froze in action, only their eyes turning on me, and then they seemed to register—thank God, they seemed to remember their mission. Either the Taser ran out of charge, or the guard pulled his finger off the trigger. I didn’t care. Roman’s body stopped vibrating. The raised baton was lowered to the infuriated man’s side.

Three other guards were already on the move, storming around the table to get to me, and it was okay, it was okay, they could have me.

I was shaking like a leaf as I stood there on the ledge, hanging onto the framework, tears stinging my eyes as my gaze rooted on Roman, waiting for him to roll off the table and onto his feet, waiting for him to move, waiting…and then he stirred with a weak, dry cough, and I could breathe again.

23

Iwas marched down the passage, a guard on each side with an iron grip on my arm. Two guards walked in front. Two guards walked behind, separating me from Roman who, by some miracle, was walking on his own. He’d been lifeless only minutes ago.

My gaze kept tearing around, desperate to catch a glimpse of him between the guards. His bottom lip was split. His jaw was puffy on the left side. He was walking with a slight limp, but he was walking! And if it was any consolidation—which it wasn’t, not really—at least five of the guards marching us looked to be in far worse shape, and that’s not counting the three we’d left behind, one unconscious and the other two too injured to resume their duties.

We came to the arched doorways in the vestibule, where more guards stood sentinel. They stepped aside for us to be marched into the hall.

A low buzz permeated the space, tapering into dead silence as all eyes turned on us. The screen was dead. The string quartet huddled over at one end of the hall with the frazzled guests. The empty dancefloor divided them from where the councilmen congregated with General Bickens.

Daniel broke away from the huddle the moment he saw us. Brenda grabbed at him, but he shook her off without a hitch in his stride, a deep scowl on his face as his gaze darted between me and Roman.

Julian hurried across the dancefloor to intercept him. “Daniel.”

“Let go!” He slapped away his father’s grip on his shoulder.

Julian took a firmer hold on him, forcibly dragging him away with heated, whispered conversation.

I couldn’t hear what was said, but Daniel’s shoulders sagged and he went to stand by Brenda again, a mutinous expression clouding his blue eyes.

“Put them there.” General Bickens waved us into a corner with an aggressive flick of his hand, as if we were gnats to be swatted.

The guards complied, shoving me forward so hard, I stumbled and lost my balance, and went sprawling over the floor.

Roman growled a low curse and I was too busy stumbling to see if he’d been pushed or lunged himself to catch me, but he came sliding to his knees beside me.

“Are you okay?” He reached around my shoulders as I unplanted my face, and tried to help me to my feet.

I resisted, taking his hand and tugging him down instead. I was already on the floor, my bones felt shaky, and I was pretty sure Roman needed to be sitting. We ended up with our backs to the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder, and I could finally get a proper look at him.

My hand came up, hovering an inch from his swollen jaw. “Areyouokay?”

He shook his head dismissively, grimly, and cursed again, this time softly and under his breath. “I would be better if you’d gone out that damn window.”

He wouldn’t be better.

He’d be dead. Or severely crippled by those guards. I’d seen it in their eyes.

“I am so, so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What did you think would happen when that screening aired?” he asked. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a question without a heartbeat.

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