Savage Queen (The Dark Elite 3)

She’s still screaming, hurling obscenities at me as she tries to claw her way across the floor. She doesn’t look elegant or put together now. For the first time in maybe her whole life, she looks like what she is.

A monster.

A demon.

Ignoring her, I stride over and grab her gun from where it skidded when I kicked it. There’s a box of matches on the desk, and I grab those too, shoving them in my pocket just to make sure no one can come finish the job of destroying this evidence.

I’m about to turn and leave the room when I hear footsteps outside.

Fuck.

I took too long. Camilla’s screams must’ve drawn attention to our location. My heart lurches into my throat, and I raise my gun, praying to fuck that there are more bullets left in it.

A second later, a man bursts through the door, and my body jerks as I yank my finger off the trigger.

It’s Brady.

We stare at each other in surprise for a moment, and he blinks at me. “Grace?”

Of course. He had no fucking idea that I was captured, so he definitely didn’t expect to see me here. And considering I just pointed a gun at him, I’m not sure how willing he’s going to be to let me walk away.

“This is Camilla Weston,” I blurt, gesturing at my mother. She’s stopped screaming, but is still making low, almost animalistic sounds of pain. I point at the gasoline-soaked desk and file drawers. “There’s your proof, Agent Brady. She’s the one who’s been kidnapping and selling women.”

“What are you…”

He glances around, his eyes widening when he takes in the sight of my mother and the gasoline canister, which lies discarded on the floor. Then he strides forward, glancing at the papers scattered across the desk.

That’s all I need.

With him out of the doorway, I bolt toward it, slipping out the door and running down the hallway.

“Grace!”

His shout carries after me, but I don’t stop. There’s more than enough evidence in that room to implicate my mother. Besides

the documents, he now has the woman herself. And if that’s not enough, I’m sure Lucy and the others will be more than willing to testify to what they know.

Now, I need to get my men and the rest of their backup out of here before they get dragged down with the Rooks.

Staying low, I make my way back toward the main part of the warehouse. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might crash through my ribs, and I work to stay calm and focused as the sound of shouts and gunfire grow louder. The fact that this fight is going on for so long makes me think that the various sides must’ve dug in for cover, taking shots at each other when they can and trying to get a tactical advantage.

“Grace!”

The hushed voice behind me makes me jump. For a second, I think it’s Agent Brady calling for me again, that he left my mother’s office and came after me. But as soon as the irrational panic fades, I realize I know that voice. It’s the same voice that was calling for me when the gunfire first erupted.

I wheel around, a sob catching in my throat as strong arms wrap around me.

Hale crushes me to his chest so hard I can’t breathe, but I don’t even notice the lack of oxygen. I cling to him for a second, three other bodies surrounding us as the men gather around me. Then I push away, remembering the urgency of the situation.

“We have to get out of here,” I tell them. “Now.”

“What about the other women?” Zaid asks. He’s got a small cut above his eye, and his suit has spatters of blood on it, but he looks otherwise okay. They all do, I think. They’re still standing, anyway. Still alive.

I shake my head. “The FBI will take care of them. They know about the trafficking ring. I told them everything. But you need to get your men out of here—whatever backup you brought—right now.”

Hale’s eyes flare wide. I can see a dozen questions flickering in their blue depths. But he doesn’t ask any of them. There’s no time right now, and he knows that. So he just nods, grabbing my elbow and pulling me along as the men form a tight knot around me, weapons drawn.

He murmurs quiet words, and it takes me a second to realize he’s not talking to me. He’s talking to his team, telling them to pull out.