Chapter 27 Siege of Hollowvale #3
His fist caught my jaw. Precision strike. Stars exploded. My vision blurred.
I tried to bring my bow up. Too slow. He grabbed it. Twisted. The dark wood splintered in his hands like kindling.
Rage flooded through me. Hot. Blinding.
I lunged at him with my knife.
He caught my wrist mid-strike. Squeezed. Bones ground together. The knife clattered to the floor.
“You move well,” he said. Still calm. Still conversational. “Your mother taught you?”
I drove my knee toward his groin. He blocked. Swept my leg. I went down hard on my back. Air exploded from my lungs.
He was on me before I could recover. Knee on my chest. Gun to my temple.
“But not well enough.”
“Sebastian!” Viktor's voice. Raw. Desperate. He was trying to stand. Failing. Too much blood loss. “Let him go!”
“Or what?” Marcel didn't even look at him. Kept his eyes on me. Cold. Calculating. “You'll bleed to death trying to save him? Please. Be my guest.”
Movement from the corridor. Dom appeared. Rifle up. Face pale. Blood streaming from a gash on his forehead.
“Step away from him,” Dom ordered.
Marcel smiled. “How many bullets do you think you have left? How many of my men are still out there?” He pressed the gun harder against my temple. “Do the math, Mr. Hayes.”
An explosion rocked the building. The generator. Someone had sabotaged it.
Sparks rained from overhead fixtures. Fire crawled up walls. Electrical first, then catching curtains, spreading with terrifying speed.
Marcel laughed. “Try proving anything now.”
He pulled a data drive from his pocket. All the evidence. All the files. Everything we needed to convict him.
He tossed it into the flames.
I watched it melt. Watched eighteen years of hunting turn to slag and ash.
“No!” I lunged.
He yanked me back. Hard. My head snapped. Vision swam.
“Careful, Your Highness. Don't want to damage the merchandise.”
“Viktor—” I started.
“Will watch you disappear.” Marcel hauled me to my feet. Used me as a shield. Gun still pressed to my head. “And spend the rest of his miserable life knowing he failed. Just like he failed his sister.”
Viktor's face went white. Then red. Pure rage.
He tried to stand. Collapsed. Too much blood. Too much damage.
“Sebastian,” he gasped. “Don't. Don't let him—”
Something detonated above us. The ceiling groaned. Cracks spider-webbed across plaster.
Marcel was already moving. Dragging me backward. Toward a section of wall that... wasn't a wall.
Hidden panel. Emergency exit. He'd planned this. Planned everything.
“Dom!” I shouted. “The ceiling—”
Too late.
The roof collapsed. Stone and burning timber. Sealing the corridor between us and them.
Viktor's scream cut off as debris buried him.
“Viktor!” I tore at Marcel's grip. Didn't care about the gun. Didn't care about anything except getting back to him. “Let me go! He's—”
“Dying.” Marcel's voice in my ear. Cold. Final. “Along with your friend. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make sure your father joins them.”
The threat stopped me cold.
“That's better.” He pulled me through the hidden passage. Into darkness. Into maintenance tunnels that smelled like mildew and old death. “We're going to take a little trip, Your Highness. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere your bodyguard can't follow.”
“They'll find you,” I said. Voice shaking with rage and fear in equal measure. “They'll hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
“Let them try.” He shoved me forward. Hard. I stumbled. Caught myself on the tunnel wall. “But first they'll have to find you. And by the time they do...”
He didn't finish. Didn't need to.
We moved through the tunnels. My mind racing. Looking for options. Exits. Weapons. Anything.
But Marcel moved like he owned the darkness. Like he'd mapped every inch of this place. Gun always at the ready. Always one step ahead.
We emerged into a garage. Underground. Three vehicles waiting. Engines running. Drivers already in place.
Professional. Prepared. He'd planned for this contingency.
Planned to lose. Planned to run. Planned to take me as insurance.
“In.” He shoved me toward the middle vehicle. Armored SUV. Bulletproof glass. The kind of vehicle that could survive a war zone.
I considered fighting. Considered making a run for it.
But there were too many mercenaries. Too many guns. And somewhere behind us, Viktor was buried under rubble and bleeding out.
Fighting got me killed. Running got me killed. And dead, I couldn't help anyone.
So I got in.
Marcel climbed in beside me. Gun never wavering. “Drive.”
The convoy moved. Up a ramp. Into rain and darkness. Away from the burning mansion. Away from Viktor.
Away from everything.
I stared out the window. Watched fire consume the building. Watched emergency vehicles arrive. Too late. Always too late.
“He might survive, you know,” Marcel said conversationally. “Your Viktor. He's tough. Stubborn. Might dig himself out. Might live long enough to tell everyone how he failed you.”
“Shut up.”
“Or he might not. Might bleed out in the dark. Might burn. Might suffocate under all that rubble.” He smiled. “Either way, he'll wish he died.”
I lunged at him.
He was ready. Caught me by the throat. Slammed me back against the seat. Squeezed just hard enough to make breathing difficult.
“Try that again and I'll kill your father,” he said. Voice still calm. Still conversational. “Not quickly. Not cleanly. I'll make it last. Make him beg. Make him break.” He released me. “Are we clear?”
I gasped. Nodded. Hated myself for nodding.
“Good.” He settled back. “We have a long drive ahead. Try to relax.”
Relax. While Viktor might be dying. While my father was vulnerable. While everything I'd fought for was burning.
I touched my mother's ring. The emerald felt cold. Dead.
She'd believed love could save empires.
She'd been wrong.