Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sound of the gunshot ripped through the speakers.
I jumped out of my chair so fast it rolled back into the wall.
“What the fuck is going on?” I shouted.
My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. The room felt too small. Too loud. Every screen was chaos—movement, bodies, flashing lights.
“It’s fine,” Code said sharply into his mic. “Zarek’s standing. He’s upright.”
“That is not fine,” I snapped. “Where is he?”
“In the cage,” Code replied. “But he’s on his feet.”
“Get him the hell out of the fight cage,” I demanded.
There was screaming coming through the audio feed now—shouts, panic, a sound like a hundred voices all trying to occupy the same space. It clawed at my nerves, made it impossible for me to think.
“I need to talk to him,” I said. “Now.”
“Chloe, calm down,” Jase said through the speakers, his voice strained but steady. “I’m getting to him. The cage is locked.”
“Well then unlock it!”
Another voice cut in, too close to the mic, swearing. Metal clanged. Boots hit concrete.
Then—
Zarek’s voice.
Ragged. Out of breath. But alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
“The Broker,” he gasped. “She’s a woman. Black skirt. Blonde hair. Red top. Find her. She’s—” He sucked in a harsh breath. “She’s evil.”
“Simon. Tell your buddies, we’ve got her description,” Code said. “Stand back, Zarek, Jase is going to shoot the lock.”
The second gunshot echoed through the room, louder this time.
I flinched hard, hands flying up to cover my ears.
Then Jase swore.
“Jesus—get an ambulance in here. Now.”
Cold terror wrapped around my spine.
“What’s wrong with Zarek?” I demanded.
“Not him,” Jase said quickly. “The other guy. I shot him.”
I pressed my hand to my chest, breathing hard, trying to stay upright.
Through the noise, through the chaos, I heard Zarek again.
“Give me your phone,” he said, voice rough but commanding. “I want to call my wife.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes.”
“Jase, give him your phone,” Simon barked at his subordinate.
I spun, frantic, looking for my own.
Trenda was already there, holding my purse out toward me.
“Here,” she said softly.
My hands shook as I dug through it, fingers clumsy, panic thick in my throat.
The phone rang.
I answered without looking.
“Zarek?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s me.”
The sound of his voice—really hearing it, knowing he was alive—cracked something open inside me.
“I’ve been so scared,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said gently. “But I’m good. It’s all good. We’re shutting them down.”
And there it was.
The pride in his voice.
Not arrogance. Not adrenaline. Purpose.
I knew what this meant to him. I knew how much weight he’d been carrying—Tyler, the lies, the guilt, the need to make something right in a world that so often didn’t let you.
My man wanted to do good.
People didn’t always see how deeply he felt things.
But I did.
“I love you, Zarek,” I said, my voice steadier now. “You did good. You really did. But never again.”
His husky chuckle came through the phone, wrapping around me like a warm wool coat in winter.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said. “Never again.”
I closed my eyes and let myself breathe.
For the first time since this nightmare had begun, I believed him.