Page 132 of Broken Crown

Then a streetlight cast its glow over the figure's face.

Sebastion.

I pounded my flat palm against the window. “Help! It’s locked!”

Sebastian stretched out his arms and pointed the gun straight at me.

Was he angry enough at my escape…to kill me?

"Sabrina. Duck."

Not hesitating at his command, I covered my head with my arms and bent low as the car window exploded inward, the shocking noise of the breaking glass filling the confined space. A shower of tiny, dull-edged glass granules rained down on me and the leather seat.

His strong hands reached inside and pulled me out of the idling car through the now open window with brutal efficiency.

Mark called out, “What the fuck?”

With a cry, I collapsed against Sebastian’s chest.

His heart thundered against my ear, as frantic as my own.

For one moment—one heartbeat—his hand came up to cradle my head with almost tenderness. Then his fingers tightened. He stepped back, his grip shifting to my arm. Under control again.

His fingers dug into my skin hard enough to bruise, but I welcomed the pain—proof that I was alive. "How did you find me?"

"I tracked your phone."

I leaned back to glare at him, ready to rage against the violation, but the look in his eyes silenced me.

Behind the fury blazed raw fear.

Sebastian, who feared nothing and no one, had been afraid.

For me.

Mark fell out of the car in a mad rush, flailing in an effort to free his arm from where it was caught in the seat belt strap. Rounding the hood of the car at a crouch and squinting past the headlight glare, he shouted into the darkness. "Who the fuck are you? What the hell is going on?"

Sebastian set me aside with gentle hands that contrasted sharply with the murderous intent radiating from him as he stalked toward Mark. "I'm going to rip your spine out through your fucking throat."

The screech of tires made us all turn.

A black sedan with tinted windows barreled down the street, engine roaring. As it neared, the passenger window rolled down, and the barrel of a gun appeared.

"Sabrina!"

In one fluid motion, Sebastian turned and lunged for me.

He threw himself between me and the shooter, wrapping his powerful arms around my body as he tackled me to the ground.

He absorbed the impact with his shoulder, a grunt of pain escaping him as we hit the unforgiving surface. The full weight of his body pressed against mine, his hips pinning me to the ground, one muscled thigh wedged between my legs.

Gunshots cracked through the night air, bullets whizzing overhead as the car tore away.

Not even checking to see if we were alive, Mark scrambled back over the hood and dove into his Mercedes. The car shot forward. The motorbike went down hard under the front bumper, metal shrieking against asphalt, a trail of bright sparks cutting through the dark. He dragged it twenty feet before speeding off. He didn't slow. Didn't look back.

"My backpack! He has my passport and phone!" I called out, reaching uselessly after the disappearing taillights.

Sebastian cradled my head with his arm, his expression fierce as he scanned me for injuries.