“I couldn’t imagine killing my brother.”
No, she loved Rhett. Once, he’d loved Malcolm. Looked up to his brother. Fought death to save his brother’s life.
“But what would you do . . .” Ryder had to ask her this. He’d told her his story, and he had to ask, “If your Rhett tried to kill you?”
Her lips pressed over his racing pulse. Then she pulled back, just enough to look up into his gaze. Her lashes were long and dark, shadowing her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Could you kill him? If it came down to a choice . . . you or him . . . could you do it?”
“I hope I don’t ever have to find out.”
It wasn’t an answer. He needed more from her. “Your father sent you to those men at Genesis. What if your brother comes after you? You want to save him, the same way I wanted to save Malcolm.” Maybe this was really the reason he’d told her about his twisted past. “When the time comes and you’re forced to choose, will you choose death for him? Or will you sacrifice yourself for him?”
She just stared back at him, and Ryder realized that she didn’t know what she’d do.
He understood then just what he’d have to do. If Sabine couldn’t fight back against those who would betray her, then he’d damn well take them out.
She could hate him. She could fight him. But she would live.
All of the others would die.
Vampire law. His law. You don’t hurt what’s mine.
No one would hurt her and keep living. No. One.
Rhett yanked his hand free of the rope, sending blood spattering behind him. His wrist was ripped open, thanks to all the sawing he’d had to do on the rope. But he was free now.
He’d shouted until his throat ached. That rat bastard Vaughn hadn’t come back. No one had come.
He used his bloody hand to yank at the other bonds. His ankles were raw, more damage from the ropes, but with some tugs and twists and a hell of a lot of hoarse “fucks”, he managed to get free of those bonds.
Then he was on his feet. His first step almost sent him tumbling right down on his face. The ropes had been too tight. There wasn’t enough circulation in his feet. They were numb. They were—
On fire as feeling surged back into them.
His teeth ground together as he forced himself to move. He had to get out of there. Had to find a phone and call for help.
Got to find Sabine. Because if Vaughn had gone after her. . .
The floor creaked. Not the floor he was standing on. The creak had come from the other room, just beyond his door. The building had been dead silent for so long that the quiet sound shocked him.
Rhett’s heart slammed into his chest. Vaughn was back. Rhett scrambled back. Light streamed into his room now, faint light that came through the cracks in the boards that lined the windows. He grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in and lifted it over his head. It wouldn’t be much of a weapon, but he’d do whatever the hell he had to do—
In order to survive.
But the man who opened the door wasn’t Vaughn. The guy was some big, rough-looking bastard with black hair and glinting eyes. The guy smirked as he took in Rhett’s weapon and bloody form.
I know him. Rhett’s eyes narrowed. This was the SOB who’d burned down The Rift! Rhett had seen him.
“Good thing I was the one to find you and not some vamp.” The man lifted one black brow. “Or else feeding time would be going on right about now.”
“Who the hell are you?” Rhett didn’t attack, not yet. Mostly because his arms weren’t exactly feeling steady. Need another second. Just gathering my strength, then I’ll attack.
“What do you think your sister will do in order to get you back?” the man asked, lifting a hand to scratch his chin. “Do you think she’d trade her life for yours? Maybe trade the life of her vampire lover?”
“Who the f**k are you?”
The guy’s smirk just got bigger.
And Rhett had gathered his strength. He attacked, launching forward with the chair.
The guy grabbed the chair before Rhett could slam it into his head. The man’s fingers wrapped around the wood. “I’m someone you don’t want as an enemy.”
His eyes weren’t dark any longer. There was a circle of orange—red?—around his pupils. As if . . . as if his eyes were burning.
The wood began to smoke beneath the man’s hand. Tendrils of smoke drifted into the air. Then the wood caught on fire. Big, bright flames erupted along the surface of the broken chair.
Rhett jerked his hand away and leapt back.
“I told you, be glad I’m not a vampire.” The chair burned to ash in a blaze that matched the fire in the man’s eyes.
No, not a vampire, but . . . “What are you?” Rhett’s voice was hoarse, thanks to all the damn screaming and yelling he’d done.
But the guy wasn’t answering him. He was too busy touching the wall to his right. Just his touch sent flames licking up the old wood and rushing toward the ceiling.
“Stop!” Rhett yelled—or tried to yell. But, oh hell, screw stopping the guy. He just needed to get away from him. So Rhett rushed forward. He plowed his fist into the guy’s face—shit, that blow scorched his knuckles—and tried to lunge through the doorway.
But the hulking guy just laughed and grabbed hold of his arm. “It’s not that easy.” He looked over at the flames. They were burning bright and hot. “We’ll send a little message to your sister, then we’ll let her find us.”
“If you’re killing me, do it,” Rhett snarled. The guy’s hold was burning into his skin. “I’m not going to let you use me against Sabine.” The way Vaughn had wanted to use him.
“Of course, you will.” He said it as if there had never been any doubt. “You’re just human.” The guy shrugged. “What else are you gonna do?”
Kill your ass. He was just close enough to do the job. Cocky supernatural. Thinking humans weren’t a threat. “I didn’t know if Vaughn would be coming for me, or if it would be someone else.”
Blisters were on his skin. Blisters and blood and he was tired of being a punching bag.
Rhett said, “But even if a vampire had come through that door, I wasn’t gonna go down without a fight.”
That stupid smirk was getting on his nerves.
“Why fight?” the man asked. “The result will be the same. You’ll lose.”
“No.” But Rhett stopped fighting. For the moment. Let him think I’m weak. “You will.” Then he brought up his left hand—with the broken chair leg that he’d kept hidden—and he stabbed that chunk of wood right into the pyro’s chest.