“Was I not clear? Well, let’s remedy that. Your friends are dead. Killed. Murdered. My men have Miss Marks, Miss Bell and Tiffany in custody, and they’re en route now. Soon your only worth will be ensuring that Miss Marks cooperates as she answers my questions.”
Outrage seeps from every cell in my body. Smith is wrong; I know she’s wrong. I know Milla found a way to save our friends. I know...but I’m scared out of my ever-loving mind. Milla could have tried to warn Cole, and he could have ignored her, refusing to trust her.
What if they are dead?
I erupt, spitting and cursing. Laughing, Rebecca skips from the room.
With a roar, I slam my thumbs into the mattress. The bones shatter instantly. I lose the ability to breathe. Dizziness swims laps in my head while nausea stomps around in my stomach. But I don’t care. I slide my hands through the cuffs at last and collapse against my pillows.
I’m not sure how much times passes before the door opens. Even though I want to leap up, I remain on the bed. Timing is everything.
My heart lurches as two guards escort Milla inside. Her gaze is glued to the floor. She’s pale and trembling, and there’s a streak of blood on her cheek.
She’s shoved into Rebecca’s chair, her hands cuffed behind her.
The guards leave in a hurry. A commotion somewhere else?
“What happened?” I demand in a whisper. Tell me everyone survived. Please.
“Two minutes, thirty-two seconds,” she whispers back.
Two minutes, thirty-two seconds...until the cavalry arrives? Hope is like an injection of pure adrenaline. “Where’s Ali?”
Though her lips move, Milla remains quiet and I comprehend she’s counting backward. Two minutes, twenty-six seconds. Two minutes, twenty-five seconds.
I let her do her thing. She’s at one minute, two seconds when Ms. Smith strides into the room, her knuckles freshly cracked and bruised, as if she’s been hitting a brick wall—or someone’s face.
“What an extraordinary turn of events.” The deranged schoolgirl is back. “Ali Bell once tried to ruin me. Now she’s strapped to a bed and at my mercy.”
My stomach drops into my feet. “Have you tainted her?”
“Soon, soon, so very soon.” There’s a creepy, sing-song quality to her voice. “I had to return her abilities first. That’s what is happening right now. They’re coming back and when they do, I’m going to steal them. My life will finally be perfect.”
Fifty-three seconds.
“I’m sorry to say I’ve decided to kill you and your new girlfriend, Mr. Martin.” She raises a .44—points it at Milla’s head. “You’ve both proven to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Wait!” I leap off the bed, uncaring that my own advantage is gone. I put myself between Milla and the gun, my knees almost too weak to hold my weight. “Spare her, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You’ll have no more trouble from me.”
Thirty-eight seconds.
Rebecca frowns. “She betrayed you and everyone you love, and yet still you want to protect her? Why?”
If I can just keep her talking... “Whatever she did, she did to save me.”
“The end justifies the means? Is that what you’re telling me?” She laughs again, but I hear bitterness rather than glee. “Hypocrite! The end justifies the means when it suits you, but not when it suits me.”
“What did you have her do? What were her means?”
“She drugged your friends, let my men in your home. Those men shot each and every slayer in the head.”
I flinch. No. No! “You asked how we tracked Mackenzie Love. I’m ready to tell you.”
Milla quietly announces, “Ten,” and a clank rings out, the cuffs hitting the floor. “Nine.”
I leap at Smith, intending to break her wrist and take the gun, but she pulls the trigger before I reach her. Boom! Boom! Boom!
I expect another dose of pain, but it never comes. Milla, I realize, leaped a split second before me, putting herself in front of me. The bullets slam into her, throwing her backward.
“No!”
She hits the floor, and deep down I know this is it. The vision unfolding. My nightmare.
If she’s shot, she’ll die.
Rebecca has backtracked to the door; her gaze is on me as she blindly reaches for the ID scanner. Hoping to escape my wrath?
With a roar, I grab her by the shoulders and throw her against the mirrored wall. Glass shatters. She plunges to the floor, leaving a smear of blood in her wake. But she’s back on her feet as I pick up the gun.
“Let me go, Mr. Martin.” She holds up shaky hands, palms out. “I’m the only one who can help you—”
I empty the bullets into her chest.
She flies back, slams into the wall a second time and this time, when she slumps to the floor, she stays there. Immortal? Not even close.
“Frosty.”
A soft voice. Milla’s voice.
I race to her side. She’s lying on her back, her skin pale, her lips blue. Lips that lift in a sad smile as blood gurgles from the corners. “Had to...be this...way. Made decision...only decision...saved...”