Page 21 of Breeding Justice

“Split them up.”

I went rigid. The air around us felt heavier, suffocating. The bastards didn’t even bother lowering their voices. My mind raced, my thoughts a chaotic mess as they pulled me toward a black SUV. Justice’s voice broke through the noise, sharp and desperate.

“Wait—no! You can’t—”

I turned my head sharply, my eyes locking with hers as they shoved me toward the door. I mouthed the only thing I could manage. “Don’t fight.”

I wanted her to stay alive. I needed her to stay alive.

The bulldog grabbed Justice’s arm and pulled her back. She resisted, planting her feet, but he was too strong. The gaunt manopened the SUV door, and I felt a rush of cool air from the interior. My options flickered in my mind like a dying neon sign—none of them good, all of them desperate.

"Bash!" Justice screamed, and I whipped around just in time to see her sink her teeth into the bulldog's hand. He yelped and swung his injured fist at her, but she ducked and spun away, running back toward me.

"Fuck!" I spat, lunging out of the gaunt man's grasp. He was quicker than he looked, and his hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me back with a force that sent me sprawling against the side of the SUV. Pain exploded in my ribs, sharp and immediate.

Justice was almost to us, her eyes wild. The gaunt man raised his gun, aiming past me and straight at her. Time stretched, each second an eternity. I saw Justice's face change—a dawning realization mixed with sheer terror—but she didn't slow.

A shot rang out.

Justice stumbled, her body jerking to one side. My heart stopped cold in my chest as I watched her crumple to the asphalt.

“Next time, I’ll aim for your chest,” the man said as he approached her. “Now, are you going to behave?”

Justice lay on the ground, clutching her shoulder, her face contorted in agony. Blood seeped through her fingers, a dark, spreading stain on her blouse. The gaunt man stood over her, his silhouette cutting a cold figure against the parking lot’s dim lighting.

“Answer me,” he growled, kicking her lightly in the leg. Justice winced but didn’t scream. She was tougher than anyone I’d ever known, but even she had her limits. My heart pounded against my ribcage, each beat a painful reminder of my own helplessness.

“Yes,” I yelled, drawing the gaunt man’s attention away from her. “She’ll behave. We’ll both behave.”

He turned to me slowly, appraisingly, like a butcher deciding which cut of meat to take first. His eyes were sunken pits, and I imagined I could see the bottom of his soul in them—empty and cavernous.

The bulldog caught up to us, cradling his bitten hand with a snarl on his lips. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered, glaring daggers at Justice. He looked like he wanted to put a bullet in her right then and there, but he wasn’t stupid enough to cross the line. Or maybe he just wasn’t angry enough…yet.

The bulldog massaged his bitten hand and glared daggers at Justice. "Tough little bitch," he muttered, then turned his ire toward me. "Get in the car."

I hesitated, looking from Justice to the gaunt man and back again. They had us. There was no point in resisting further—Justice’s reckless play had bought us nothing but more pain.

“You said you weren’t going to hurt her,” I said as another man pushed me into an SUV.

My voice cracked with the mix of anger and fear that churned in my gut. The gaunt man shrugged, a casual, almost bored gesture.

"We didn't plan to," he said. "But plans change."

The door slammed shut, muffling the sounds of Justice struggling as they hauled her to another vehicle. I banged my head lightly against the seat’s plush leather, cursing under my breath. She always had to make things harder.

Yet, I couldn’t blame her. We were in this mess because of me—because she had never even wanted to be part of this world until I had dragged her into it.

The SUV roared to life, and my thoughts drowned in the hum of the engine. I strained to see out the tinted windows, catching glimpses of Justice as she was thrown into another vehicle. The pain in my chest wasn’t just from the blow to my ribs; it was the knowledge that I might never see her again, that she might not forgive me for any of this.

The vehicle lurched forward, and I was thrown back against the seat. My wrists throbbed where the zip ties cut into them. I tested their strength, twisting my hands slowly—useless.

The SUV sped through the night, the low growl of the engine filling the silence. My guards were focused ahead, their movements confident, too sure of themselves. Idiots. They thought I was broken, another piece of cargo to be delivered to their boss.

I flexed my hands, testing the zip ties, cataloging every detail—the slack in their postures, the way their weapons were holstered just out of reach, the uneven road that jostled the vehicle. Every bump, every flicker of light from the streetlamps above burned into my mind.

They thought they had me. They thought this was over.

They were dead wrong.

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