My girls are in trouble.
A frigid anger unlike anything he’d ever known pulsed through him. It kept him calm enough to remember to tell the concierge to give his brothers permission to follow him up the stairs, to call the police, and to shut down the building as he burst through the door and ran through the lobby.
Thankfully, at the moment he’d tried to decide which would be faster, the stairs or elevator, the elevator pinged open.
The door to the condo felt like it was a million miles away, and his legs burned as he tore along the carpeted hallway to their front door. Another scream filled the corridor, then a sudden abrupt silence. Fear filled his lungs leaving no room for air.
He reached the door, and grabbed the handle only to find it locked. Seconds felt like minutes as he pulled his key from his pocket and unlocked it, slamming the door open so hard it ripped off its hinge.
The assholes who had his girls were going to fucking die.
Arnie turned, his skin flushed from exertion. “I thought you said he was out all day,” Arnie yelled at Sam, spittle leaving his lips.
Dred scanned the room quickly. Sam had Petal in his arms. Her piercing cry ripped his heart out. Arnie stood over Pixie, who lay unmoving on the floor next to the coffee table, a bloody gash on her temple. He was too far away from her to understand the true extent of her injuries. Dred’s stomach dropped to the floor. He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing, but one thing he was certain of. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” Dred snarled at Arnie.
“Tell you what I think, lover-boy,” Arnie said, pointing the gun directly toward Pixie’s head. “I think you’re going to let me walk out with Sarah-Jane, if you want to keep her alive.”
Dred swallowed hard and breathed deep shallow breaths. Dark, crimson blood was pooling on the floor by Pixie’s head, and it took away the limits of his control. But he noticed her eyes fluttering open. She turned her head toward the sofa. Relief flooded through him—she wasn’t dead. But that wasn’t going to save Sam or Arnie.
The building was hopefully locked down, so there was no way Sam was walking out with Petal. Scratch that. There was no fucking way Sam was walking out, period. For once, Dred let the anger fill him, let the icy-cold flood course through him until he was blinded by it.
“Tell you what I think,” Dred snarled. “There’s no way you’re getting out of here.”
He saw Pixie clumsily move her hand toward the side table and could immediately see what she intended to do. With a cry of pain, she grabbed the scissors she must have been using to make Petal’s dress and jammed them into Arnie’s calf. Dred seized the opportunity as soon as she started to move. He charged at Arnie, hitting him with his full body weight to push him away from Pixie. The side table broke Arnie’s fall, sending shards of glass splintering around them. Dred went down on top of him, punching him until he hit the ground. The gun skittered away.
They rolled in the glass, and Dred ignored the pain of the slivers cutting into his shoulder.
Arnie fought back, his knuckles glancing off Dred’s jaw, but Dred felt nothing. Insulated from pain, his focus was solely on his girls. Their safety relied on his ability to remove the scumbag who threatened them, and that thought motivated him.
He wrapped his hands around Arnie’s throat, fully intent on strangling him, until Arnie hit him on the temple with something hard. The blow caught him off guard and made his head spin, but he’d received worse over the years. And never had the stakes been this high.
The base of the lampshade fell from Arnie’s hand, but he gripped the cable and attempted to wrap it around Dred’s throat.
They rolled again, Dred ending up astraddle Arnie. He grabbed Arnie’s collar and began punching him. Fuelled by the agonizing memory of Pixie’s blood-curdling screams and Petal’s high-pitched cries, Dred hit Arnie over and over, until he realized Arnie was no longer struggling beneath him.
Dred gasped for breath, and sat back on his knees. He lifted Arnie’s head and let it fall back to the floor. He was definitely out.
“Pix. Fuck, Snowflake,” he cried, crawling over to her and lifting her head onto his lap. He gingerly brushed her hair out of her face and fixed her blouse so she was less exposed. “Please, gorgeous, don’t close those eyes on me again.”
Then he caught sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye as he began to move. “What the fuck?” Dred dragged his bloodied hand through his hair. “Sam. Give Petal to me.”
Sam stepped away. “Dred,” he said. “Let me and Petal go. You know I won’t hurt her if you don’t do anything stupid. Just let me get out of here, and when we’re clear, I’ll tell you where she is.”
“I don’t get this,” he said to Sam while occasionally looking over to where Arnie was lying to make sure he was still down. “Why are you doing this?”