His men were crowding in behind him. Some held guns. Some had no weapons at all.
She ignored them.
Hurry, Mercer, hurry.
Cassidy stared up at the monster who’d haunted so many of her dreams. Only he didn’t look like a monster.
Under the bright light, his blond hair gleamed. His face was handsome, cut in smooth, clean lines. He could have been any man that she’d met at a dozen parties.
He should have looked as evil as he was.
He offered her a smile. “Not what you expected, am I?” He lifted his knife, a knife red from her blood. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m finished, you’ll have changed your mind.”
“No!” Cale’s voice. He burst from the basement. “You won’t be—”
An alarm sounded, then, the shrill cry echoing through the building, and that jarring sound was a relief to Cassidy. The most beautiful sound that she’d ever heard.
If the alarm was sounding, then that meant...
“He was followed!” the Executioner cried. “Damn it, we have to—”
Gunfire exploded. Only the gunfire didn’t come from the weapons that the Executioner’s men held. The bullets hit the Executioner’s men, taking them out.
The Executioner reached for Cassidy, but Cale was there, shoving him back, driving his weapon at the blond man even as the Executioner sliced with his own blade.
The scent of blood deepened.
And the gunshots kept blasting.
The Executioner stumbled back. He stared down at his blood-covered chest in shock. “No, not to me...” He lifted his weapon once more. “You don’t stop—”
Bullets slammed into his exposed chest. One hit. Two. Three. He jerked back with each impact, as if he were a puppet being yanked on a string. Blood dripped from his mouth. His eyes went wide, then he fell back, slamming into the floor.
His men—those still alive, anyway—began firing back at their assailants. A bullet blazed just past Cassidy’s arm, so close that she felt the burn on her skin.
Then Cale was there, shielding her, rushing her toward the door on the right. He made sure his body covered hers for every step that they took.
He ripped open the door.
Over his shoulder, she saw men coming from the shadows. Men who moved with a lethal precision that marked them as hunters. She counted four—no, five of them.
“Cassidy?”
The voice came from inside the room that she and Cale had just entered. It was weak and scared...and the whispery voice belonged to Genevieve.
Cassidy rushed toward her. Genevieve was tied to a chair. Her friend was sobbing, shaking. She’d nearly managed to break free from her bonds; the rope was barely clinging to her wrists.
Cale cut through the remaining rope with the glass he still held. Just a piece of glass, but it was a weapon he’d used with brutal efficiency time and again.
“What’s happening?” Genevieve demanded as she reached for Cassidy. “Those shots...” Tears leaked down her cheeks. “Are we going to die?”
“No.” Cale’s voice was certain. “I’m getting you both out of here.”
She believed him. After the way she’d seen him take down those men—just with that shard of glass—she was ready to believe that Cale could do anything.
The door flew open behind them.
Cale spun, body tensing, as he faced the new threat.