Page 69 of Corrupted Union

Panic and desperation ignited like kerosene, my fury setting them ablaze. But before I could react to the emotions, a hand fisted in my hair, yanking me back to my feet.

“You’re not doing anything except learning your place,” Stetson spat in my face. “I hear American pussy goes for a premium in some countries, and I just happen to know someone in the business. It’s time to make a deal.” A malignant grin darkened his face before he tugged me toward the entry.

My eyes strained to keep sight of where my mother lay on the ground. She’d bleed out alone, just like Ivy, all because of me.

Something in my mind snapped. Civility. Humanity.

Everything that made memefaded away until I was nothing but primal rage.

A cry tore from my throat, so feral and unhinged that I didn’t even recognize my own voice. I swung my body around and slammed both hands into his forearm, knocking the gun to the ground. It slid several feet away, but I hardly paid it any mind. All my focus was trained on Stetson.

He yanked on my hair to no avail. In my animalistic state, I felt no pain.

Baring my teeth, I turned and kicked him in the side with all my strength, then reached for a nearby ceramic candlestick thick as my fist and swung back around for his head.

Finally, he was forced to release me in an effort to protect himself. “What thefuck?” Stetson growled through gritted teeth.

I never paused, grabbing a table lamp next and launching it at him to give myself enough time to dive for the gun.

It wasn’t enough.

He dodged the lamp while also surging toward the discarded weapon. I reached it first, but he was right behind me. My hands gripped the cold metal, his hands wrapped around mine.

“It’s fucking cocked, Rowan. You’re gonna shoot us both.”

“Good,” I growled. “So long as you fucking die, I don’t care what happens to me.”

We strained through grunts and labored breaths, fighting for control of the gun. Despite the extra strength my rage afforded me, I would be no match for his size the longer our struggle continued. I had to find a way to stop him.

Come on, Ro!Ivy urged me on.You gotta fight dirty, or this asshole’s gonna win.

No. Fucking. Way.

My head dove forward until my teeth clamped down on his forearm. Stetson screamed as I gnawed through skin and flesh, a metallic tang flooding my tongue. The second his concentration wavered, I twisted us around, praying it was enough, and pulled the trigger.

I’d never driven so goddamn fastin my life. I called Rowan three times on the way. No answer. By the time I pulled up at her parents’ house, my heart was ready to explode out of my chest.

Despite my panic, the house exterior looked like it had that morning when I dropped her off except for the absence of the security guard Alexander had stationed out front. Normally, the men stayed with him, but in light of recent events, he’d instructed one to stay and watch the house.

When I walked up the steps to the front door, I discovered the reason for the guard’s absence. He lay motionless down below in the fenced concrete cutout for basement access.

Shit. I’d been right to be worried.

Gun in hand, I swung open the door, thanking God it was unlocked. I kept my back pressed against the stone exterior, waiting to determine whether it was safe to enter. I was met with a bottomless pit of silence.

Fear unlike any I’d ever known coated my insides with dread as thick as tar.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

I took a deep breath and swung around through the doorway into the house and was met with a scene straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Broken bits of porcelain and blood splatter dotted the floor, and on top of it, Stetson sat against the wall at the far side of the entry bleeding from his left shoulder. The wound wasn’t fatal, but he hadn’t moved because Rowan sat a dozen feet away with a gun trained on him.

Her eyes were impossibly wide, face ghostly white, but her hand never wavered. She hadn’t killed him, but she would in a heartbeat. It was written on every inch of her.

I was so relieved she hadn’t. I didn’t want that memory staining her conscience.

“Rowan, baby. I’m here,” I said softly, not wanting to startle her. She should have heard the door, but she seemed to be in a sort of trance. Shock, most likely. While her one hand held a gun, the other was pressed firmly to her mother’s middle, already stained with an alarming amount of blood.

Keeping my gun trained on Stetson as well, I took out my phone and dialed 911. “A woman’s been shot, home invasion. She needs an ambulance immediately. 113 East 90th.” I didn’t stay on the line. They’d send help, and I didn’t have time for asinine questions.

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