Page 62 of Savage Sin

My eyes drop to Rage and everything hits fast forward. His expression is blank. The man on his knees in front of me is not the same man who saved me from being trafficked.

This man is made of death.

“Hit the ground!” he bellows, and I’m flat in the grass as if his words serve as an anchor pulling me down.

Rounds pelt the ground all around me. Grass and dirt cover everything. The blast of a shotgun rings in my head. Chills erupt over my body. I shuffle to my feet to find Rage on top of Stefano beating the shit out of him. I leave Rage to handle my step-brother.

I need a gun. Something I can use against the incoming army. I’m no good to Rage empty handed.

Fire licks up the outside of the cabin. I lean against the side, pressing my luck that it doesn’t collapse the second I touch it, but I can’t stand out in the middle of the lawn either.

I tuck low, lean around the corner and sure enough, I did not miscount. Three of the men are in the same clothes as Stefano, while I can’t make out the other two. They are back farther and masked by smoke. It doesn’t matter. They are all here to kill Rage and me.

I scurry along the side of the cabin, heading for the armory I spotted beside the security room last night. Lucky for me, this side hasn’t caught fire yet. Fingers crossed it wasn’t damaged in the explosions, either.

An air conditioning unit stands between me and the kitchen’s sliding door. I dive behind it. Get in, grab the weapons, get out before the ceiling completely collapses.

It’s a good enough plan.

Fingers stab through my hair and I’m yanked back so hard my neck pops. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I throw my hands up and grab the one using my hair against me. I spin and come nose to nose with a red-eyed Stefano. His hair is shuffled and blood is coming out of his nose and mouth. There’s also some blood on his shoulder. He’s either shot or stabbed. Though my ears ring as if sirens are going off inside my head, I hear the sticky breathing coming from his chest. Another wound I can’t see? But I notice the blood wetting the top of his jeans.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

Gripping fear throws my brain into overdrive. Instead of shutting down, I have this driving need to find Rage. Now.

If Stefano is here, that means the other men helped him get away.

Raw anger creates an explosive force inside me, and I rear back. Using every bit of strength I have in me, I strike for anything I can hit. Bone crunches, and the shriek of pain is oddly satisfying.

“You bitch!” he screams in Spanish. Fury meets my face and I fall back, stumbling over burning debris.

I’m starting to understand the addictiveness of bloodlust.

Embers fall around me. I can’t see through the tears and smoke.

Everything is going to collapse. I scramble back, desperate to get away from Stefano and find Rage. Metal clicks around my wrist and I’m brought up short. I fall backward and immediately spin to see he’s cuffed my wrist with the other end in his hand.

My eyes widen. “No!” I yank and pull, but it does nothing but make the skin bleed.

“You’re not getting away from me, little sister. You’re all mine. Mine. And I am going to keep you where we can play every day.”

He drags me fighting and kicking inside the burning cabin. If the swirling embers were bad out there, humongous support beams threaten to fall on our heads any second in here.

“What are you doing? I thought I was your prize? You’re going to kill us in here.” I drag my heels and reach for anything I can grab to slow his progression toward the kitchen.

“I changed my mind.” Madness smears his features into a monster. He clasps the other side of my cuffs to a foot rail running along the bottom of the kitchen counter. I spin, put my feet on the bar and use everything I have to break the bar from the bolts holding it in place. Breathing heavily only fills my lungs with smoke. I cough and gasp. Nothing I do helps. The fire is getting closer. Heat from the flames burns over my exposed skin.

Suddenly, I have a long blade under my chin, forcing me to look up and into his manic gaze.

“I hope you die and go to hell.” I gather spit on the end of my tongue and send it flying. “Basura!You are nothing but trash.” I can’t pump enough hatred into my words to convey the amount of pain I want this man to feel.

Knuckles meet the side of my face. My head snaps, but I don’t give him the pleasure of seeing my pain. It’s getting harder to breathe. He paces away and then comes back, flipping that knife over and catching it around the handle like we are not about to die in a fire.

He tries to move my hair from my face like he cares about my comfort.

“Touch me again and I will kick you in the dick.”

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