Page 242 of Intense
“What the hell is that?” Declan hisses.
“Something that might work. I need to find her, Dec.”
I tap on my veins and inject the drug. A small dose for now, just in case.
Between all of this and the adrenaline, I will get through this; I can die later.
Just not now.
Running the cold tap, I splash my face a few times and look at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror.
Please fucking work.
“Theo has Arthur, they’re outside the main entrance. Meet him there. Theo says it’s clear to do as you wish,” Enzo says through the earpiece.
My hands are fucking trembling. The result of the adrenaline mixing with the drugs. I wipe the sweat away from my forehead.
“Go!” I order Reggie. “I’ll follow. Grab as many of our men as you can on the way. Have the Volkovs sweeping the building for her and Rowan.”
I stumble through the door, my vision still hazy but better than it was.
It’s working. It will be enough to see me through this and get Stephanie back.
If I fucking collapse after that, then so be it. I’m not going down without a fight.
I’m not leaving this life without telling my wife that I fucking love her again.
Without kissing her one more time.
Chapter 88
STEPHANIE
As I open my eyes, the room is hazy. Red carpets. Cream walls. I don’t think I’ve left the gala.
My body aches everywhere. Panic rips through me as I try to move my wrists, but they’re bound tight to the chair. The rope cuts into my skin like it’s alive, digging deeper every time I shift.
I try to scream, but it comes out muffled, suffocating me.
A deep man’s voice booms from somewhere beside me, but the ringing in my ears makes it hard to make out the words.
Shit.
Finn. I need to get to him.
I turn my head slowly, and there he is. My attacker. The disfigured man from earlier, except now he’s dressed down in sweats, a navy T-shirt, and a black baseball cap shadowing the ruin of his face.
That smile he wears makes my stomach turn.
With each step closer, I thrash against my restraints.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, leaning in until the stench of his breath coats my skin.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to gag.
“Yet. Can you behave for me? Be quiet. It will all be over soon.”
Bile rises in my throat as his finger trails lazily down my neck. I can’t fight back. I can’t even speak. This—this helplessness—is my worst nightmare.
