Page 74 of Beautiful Scars

The bathroom doorknob rattles.

I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle a whimper.

"Hurry Zane," I breathe into the phone. "Please."

"Fuck!" I hear him slam his hand into the steering wheel. "I'm almost there Sunny. Stay down. Whatever you hear, whatever happens don't move until you hear my voice. My actual voice, not through the phone. Understand?"

"Yes."

The doorknob rattles again, harder this time. I scream as something heavy slams into the door. It gives, but holds.

Another slam.

The wood splinters.

Somewhere in the apartment, I hear the front door crash open.

"SUNNY!" Z's voice booms through the apartment.

The pounding on the bathroom door stops. The heavy footsteps retreat. Glass shatters—from my bedroom, I think.

"Clear!" An unfamiliar voice shouts.

"Clear!" Another voice.

"Bathroom's secure," Z calls out. "Sunny? It's me. I'm coming in."

Z slams his shoulder into the door, forcing it. When it opens, Z fills the frame, gun drawn but pointed down. His eyes are cold, deadly. Behind him, I glimpse other men moving through my apartment, checking corners, securing rooms.

"Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, not trusting my voice.

Z holsters his weapon and reaches for me. I fall out of the tub into his arms.

"I've got you," he murmurs against my hair. "You're safe."

But we both know that's a lie. Someone got past Ty. Got into my apartment.

"Wolf found Ty," one of the men reports from the doorway. "He's unconscious but alive. Looks like he was drugged."

Z's arms tighten around me. "You're coming to the safehouse." he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

This time, I don't protest.

The Action

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sunny

Thesafehouseisn'twhatI expected. Nothing like anything I've seen on TV. From the outside, it's unassuming—a sprawling two-story home sitting on a large plot of land, with a couple outbuildings and well-maintained carefully designed landscaping. But watching Z's team move through it, I can see that every part of the house and land has purpose. Clear lines of sight to the entire area, secure fencing, security cameras disguised as outdoor lighting.

I stay in the corner of the living room, trying to make myself small as men move around me with military precision. My fingers won't stop trembling with leftover adrenaline from the apartment.

Z hasn't let me out of his sight since we arrived, even while directing his team. He keeps himself positioned between me and the door, or me and anyone else. He does it effortlessly. If I weren’t so on edge I probably wouldn’t have noticed. Every time someone new enters the room, his hand twitches toward his weapon.

"Perimeter secure," Wolf reports from his position by the window, his kind eyes a stark contrast to the weapon still holstered at his side. Just an hour ago, he'd been the one to find Ty unconscious outside my apartment. Now he's adjusting his glasses and setting up surveillance feeds. Like it's all just part of a day's work. Which I suppose it is for him.

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