Page 67 of Thunder

In a heartbeat, I lunge forward, adrenaline fueling every movement as I claw at the gun. Chaos erupts, the world blurring into a frenzy of motion. We grapple, knocking over furniture and scattering belongings across the room.

The gun slips from Brian's grip, skidding across the wooden floor like a lifeline thrown too short. We both dive for it. My fingers brush against the cold metal, only for Brian's foot to kick it away at the last second. He scrambles, reclaiming the weapon and aiming it back at me, his breath ragged from the struggle.

"Stupid girl," he spits, fury flashing in his eyes. "Get on your knees."

Panic floods my veins, but I force myself to keep my eyes locked onto his as I kneel.

"See?" he sneers, sweat beading on his brow. "I told you, you shouldn't have meddled. This project was supposed to be easy. We were all supposed to get paid, not dragged into this shit."

"Please. You don't have to do this."

"Of course I fucking do!" he snarls, pressing the gun against my head. "Do you think I want to do this, Lia? No. But you're fucking making me, and if I don't... if I don't... they'll..."

His voice trails off, but I know what he means. If he doesn't kill me, someone else will, but only after they’ve killed Brian and everyone he loves. We're both trapped in this nightmare together, and only one of us is getting out alive.

The gun shakes against my forehead, tremors that give away the struggle taking place within Brian’s heart. Even though he knows the consequences, he’s still wavering. He’s a project manager, a number cruncher, a productivity nerd, not an executioner.

I have to seize on that if I want to survive.

"Then kill me," I say, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. I refuse to beg for my life from a man who would so easily take it away. My heart slams against my ribcage, pleading for mercy, but I know there's none to be found here. I have to push him, break him, remind him exactly what he’s going to do and what the consequences will be. “Shoot me. Right in the head. Do it, Brian. I’m sure everyone in this hotel would love to hear you blow my brains out. I mean, have you even fucking thought about this? Have you thought about what it’s going to look like to have my blood, my bones, my fucking brains spray everywhere? I’ll tell you how it’s going to be: gross. So fucking gross that you’ll never forget it, never get over it. And then what? How are you going to deal with my body? You’re fucked, Brian.”

There’s a moment where I think I’ve won. A moment where the cold barrel of the gun leaves my skin, where his breathing nearly stops, held in suspense, while a monumental struggle plays out within his glassy, wild eyes.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Then the gun presses so hard against my head that it hurts.

I yelp.

"Fine, you bitch, you can have it your way." His finger tightens on the trigger, and I brace myself for the end.

At that heart-stopping, knife-edge moment, another knock cuts through the tension-filled air. This time from the door.

Time freezes.

Both Brian and I are paralyzed, our eyes locked in a chilling silence.

My mind races: who could it be? Is it Marcus? A hotel staff member? Whoever it is, they're oblivious to the mortal danger lurking in this room.

"Get rid of them," Brian hisses through clenched teeth. His voice is raw, menacing. "Or they’ll die with you."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thunder

The scream of my motorcycle cuts through the air as I pull up to the hotel, wheels crunching over gravel and leaving burnt black streaks on the asphalt. A dark weight sits in my gut, a haunting feeling that grows every step I take toward the hotel.

I race through the lobby, ignoring the stares from staff and guests alike. My boots thud against the carpeted stairs as I ascend to her floor, heart hammering in my chest like a war drum. As I approach her door, my hand tightens around the grip of my gun, cold steel providing an anchor amidst the storm raging within me. I've never been in this situation before—never had to be so careful. It's always just been me or me with Bullet and Rook, people who can defend themselves. But Lia... if she were to get hurt, I'd never forgive myself.

I hesitate for a moment outside her door, conflicting emotions warring inside me. Then I knock.

There's a shuffling inside, a scuffle I can only imagine.

"Who is it?" Lia's voice drifts out from behind the door, laced with tension and fear.

"It's Marcus. Open the door, Lia."

"No, Marcus, you should go," she replies, her words strained and shaking. "This isn't a good time. I'm busyhere withwork. I'll catch up with you later. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

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