Page 65 of Run

“I’ll tell her now.” David walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. “Elle.” He gently shook her shoulder. “You need to wake up.”

She blinked several times before focusing on his face. He hated how the smile curling around her luscious lips faded as soon as she saw his expression. She sat up quickly, shoving her wild blue hair from her face.

“What happened?” Her gaze scanned her team then came back to rest on him.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, Blue, so I’m just going to say it.” Damn, he wanted to stall because he didn’t want to cause her pain. Never wanted to cause her any pain. He took a deep breath and held her hands in his. “Marcus was killed last night.”

“What?” She frowned at him as though his words made no sense. “I don’t understand.”

“We think Tommy killed him. They dumped his body on the front steps of Benson Security.”

The color drained from her face, and she shoved him away before scrambling out of bed to stand beside it. “He’s dead? How can he be dead? I was talking to him last night.”

David’s hands itched to hold her, but it was clear from the tension in her body that she wasn’t ready to be touched. “I’m sorry, Blue.”

“Benson Security? Our office?” she asked Callum, who nodded tersely. “A warning then…to me… Why would Tommy do that? Unless… Oh no!” Her palms flew to cover her mouth, to cover the wail that started to escape. Panic, horror, realization—it was all there in her face. Questioning eyes pleaded with David for answers.

“Tommy had to know Marcus found you.” David’s stomach was a knot inside of him.

Her hands stayed pressed to her mouth as her eyes welled with tears—although none of them fell. David couldn’t take the distance between them any longer and pulled her into his embrace, wrapping around her as though he could shield her from the pain. As Elle stood stiffly, not making a sound, David cast a worried glance at Callum, who stared at them with a mixture of pain and fury.

The bathroom door opened, and Abasi sauntered out. Instantly, everyone’s attention focused on him. He scanned the room, taking in everything before his gaze lingered on Elle.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“You need to keep your cool,” Ryan told him.

His eyes turned to steel. “What. Happened?”

Dimitri took a step closer to the man, ready to shut down his reaction if it turned violent.

“Tommy killed Marcus,” Callum said with compassion.

For a second, it felt as if the walls moved in and out as Abasi stood motionless. “Details,” he snapped at last.

Elle raised her head, her eyes red. “I want to know too.”

Callum’s head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling for a second. “You don’t want to know,” he said to Elle when he looked back at them. “And you don’t want her seeing that,” he said to Abasi.

“Seeing?” Abasi spotted the TV remote in Callum’s hand. “It’s on the news?” He strode to the TV and turned it on manually.

“Elle shouldn’t see this,” Callum repeated.

“No,” Elle said. “I want to know what that monster did to my brother.”

With a curse, Callum tossed the remote on the nearest bed as the volume from the TV filled the room.

“It is believed that the body is that of Marcus James, thirty-two-year-old son of infamous mobster Tommy James,” the news anchor said from her clinical studio, far removed from the brutality of her report. “Witnesses at the scene report that the victim was tossed from a car shortly after six this morning. One of the witnesses filmed the event and sent us their footage. I must warn you, this may not be suitable for sensitive viewers.”

“And yet, they show it anyway,” Megan muttered in disgust.

Standing between David’s knees, Elle clung to his shoulders, nails digging in while she stared at the screen in absolute horror. Shaky footage showed a car screeching to a halt, then two men climbed out, their faces conveniently averted from the camera. They opened the trunk and removed Marcus’ body, which they unceremoniously tossed in front of Benson Security before speeding away.

“Hell, man, the guy’s been totally fucked up,” the person holding the phone shouted as they ran toward Marcus. “Is he alive? Fuck, there’s a lot of blood. Check for a pulse.”

A hand came into view, pressing against Marcus’ neck, and in doing so, turning his face straight toward the camera.

Elle gasped but couldn’t tear her eyes away. David held her tighter. Wishing it would end—the broadcast, the danger to her, the pain she suffered, all of it.