Page 75 of Captive Prize

All I cared about was her.

I needed to get to her. If it cost me my life, then so fucking be it. I hadn’t felt alive in so long, anyway.

The SUV roared as they gunned the engine, the tires screeching against the pavement as they sped off into the night down the long, winding driveway, back toward the private dirt road leading out of here.

It was getting harder to see. The edges of my vision were turning black, but I couldn’t look away. Not yet.

Zoya needed me.

I moved as fast as I could, flanking the other men. Once I was further around the side, so the headlights were not blinding me, I killed them.

Even injured, I was efficient. One bullet per man, one fast-pass ticket to hell for each of them.

Zoya needed me. She needed me to save her.

I fired again, over and over, until they were all dead and then I ran to one of the idling SUVs, throwing it into gear and following the fucking SUV that held my woman.

Mine.

I claimed her. By right.

She was mine.

Even if that meant I was going to keep her chained to that goddamn chair for the rest of her life.

The pain in my left shoulder fueled me. Every time I blinked, I saw her. I saw her run from me, and then I saw the fear in her eyes. I was going to enjoy punishing her when I had her back.

My vision blurring as I drove, I finally caught sight of them and focused as hard as I could on the license plate, trying to make out letters and numbers.

VPB 855-something.

I focused on that last digit with all the energy I had. My vision was swimming, but I needed to know what it was.

Someone started firing at me again, taking out a tire. My shoulder screamed, doused in a fire from the bullet lodged there as I wrestled the SUV to a stop and tore out of the cab, sprinting after them.

VPB 855…was that a 4 or a 9? I couldn’t tell.

VPB 855 — Fuck.

They fired again and just missed me, the bullet grazing my other shoulder, making me stumble and fall on the dirt road.

I ignored the pain, and the way my lungs fought to get air, my breath a white mist in the cold. I looked up at the SUV pulling further away, and it was getting harder to remain conscious.

They hadn’t hit an artery, but they had gotten close; my arm was soaked in blood, and I was losing a lot of it quickly.

Running hadn’t helped.

VPB 8554.

I was sure of it.

I forced my lips open and said it out loud.

Over and over.

Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the trees and the stars peeking between the leaves.

My mother’s voice came to mind again—sharp, scolding this time, telling me I’d finally gone too far. But even her ghost couldn’t reach me now.

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