Page 104 of The Final Contract
The air leaves my lungs.
For a heartbeat, all I can see is her on the ground covered in that sheet and it’s enough to rip me in two.
I start moving without thinking. My body turns toward the door, toward the street, toward her. But Jaxon’s voice cuts through, urgent and sharp. He grips my arm, holding me here.
“Killian, wait. We need you here.”
I round on him so fast my vision tunnels. Both hands fly to his chest, and I push him back. “She’s out there, Jax. Don’t you fucking dare try to keep me here when she’s—” My voice cracks, raw and violent, my chest threatening to split in two.
“We have a bigger fucking problem, Kill.”
He spins the laptop toward us.
On the screen is a countdown timer, its numbers bleeding red, each second slipping away like a drop of blood.
Lucian steps closer, his shadow heavy beside me, but it’s Jaxon’s voice I hear. Flat. Grim.
“The whole building is wired to blow.”
The words sink like stones into my chest, heavier with every breath.
I want to run to her. God, I want to tear out of here and find her before it’s too late. But my legs won’t move, caught between the love that has rooted itself so deep inside me it feels like mysoul—and the reality that if I leave this building, the Ledger and everyone in it could be reduced to ash.
And somewhere in the city, my brother is watching. Laughing.
The last thing I remember is the sting in my arm, the burn of a needle sliding under my skin before I could fight it off. The heaviness came fast—too fast. Not the haze of alcohol, not the slow drift of sleep. This was chemical. Precise.
Midazolam,probably.
I’ve given it enough times to know the sensation—the sharp drop, the way the world folds in on itself in seconds. A sedative, quick and dirty. The kind you use when you want someone compliant but not gone too long.
Someone took me. I blink and shake my head, trying to pull the memories forward.
Cormac.
The name slams into me, and suddenly the fog in my head feels heavier. My mouth is dry, my tongue thick. I try to shift, only to realize I can’t.
My wrists are bound in front of me, rope biting deep, the coarse fibers grinding my skin raw when I test them. A gagstretches tight across my mouth, pressing hard into the corners of my lips, damp with saliva. A second rope winds around my torso, cinching me back against a chair so tight it forces my ribs to ache with every breath.
A quick look at my thumbnail makes my heart lurch. They knew I wore a tracking device there, must have scanned me to find it. It’s been filed away.
Killian and Lucian won’t have a way to find me, just like before. The irony of this being so similar to the situation that caused this war in the first place.
I draw in air, but it stinks. Ash. Damp stone. Something old, burned, and left to rot.
When my eyes finally focus, I see the ruins around me.
It’s a cathedral—or it used to be. The skeleton of one, really. Charred stone walls loom jagged and broken, sections collapsed into heaps of rubble. The wall to my right has crumbled away entirely, daylight streaming in through the open wound, while another section has fallen behind the altar, leaving only a cracked crucifix still hanging against the blackened stone.
Most of the roof is gone. Only a section behind me remains, sagging timbers blackened by fire. This place looks as though it should have been condemned years ago. The fact that it still stands feels like some cruel trick of fate.
I twist harder, trying to work my wrists free, ignoring the sting as the rope scrapes deeper into my skin. Nothing gives. My shoulders tremble with the effort until I collapse back against the chair, breath ragged behind the gag.
And then I hear laughter. Voices.
Low, rough, echoing off the stone and getting closer.
I turn my head just as he enters, cigarette glowing in the shadows, a plume of smoke curling out as he exhales slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.
