Page 147 of Wilde and Deadly

“I’m not negotiating with the fuckers who stole her.”

“And if you go in hot, they’ll kill her before you even get close.”

The tunnel seemed to shrink around him.

Fuck.

Cade was right.

They wanted him.

They wanted a war.

They had Rowan.

And they thought they had control.

His nails dug into his palms. One more second, and he might’ve shattered. But he exhaled instead, forcing the rage into something he could use. “I’m going.”

Cade swore.

Silence from Daphne. Then, carefully, “You sure about that?”

Davey’s hand curled into a fist, his knuckles aching. “I’m sure.”

Because if Praetorian wanted to play games, they were about to find out just how badly they’d underestimated him.

If they wanted him?

They were getting him.

And they’d regret it.

thirty-seven

Pain arrowedthrough Rowan’s skull, dragging her from the dark. It pulsed behind her eyes, a relentless, throbbing beat. Her body was slow to follow, limbs weighted and uncooperative.

There was a sound. A faint whirr, the soft vibration of an electric motor beneath her. The thrum of wheels on pavement. Moving. A vehicle.

Where was she going?

Where was?—

The tunnel. The shadows. Weston bleeding. Sabin down.

Panic ignited, spreading through her limbs like fire.

Oh, God. Davey.

Was he alive? Had he been hurt? Or… worse?

No. No, she couldn’t think like that. If anyone could fight his way through hell, it was Davey Wilde.

Her pulse kicked against her ribs, her breath coming short and sharp as she tried to remember more.

Chaos. Gunfire. The sickening crack of fists against flesh.

And the shadow with the cold, ink-black eyes….

---