Page 104 of Broken & Bound

The cool air felt refreshing against my skin as I slipped into a light sundress. With a quick look at my reflection in the mirror, I smoothed my dress and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

After locking up the studio, I stepped outside. The late afternoon sun was warm against my skin. I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. While Isabella was on edge about the family meeting, I was confident it would go over fine.

No way the Torturer wouldn’t melt into a puddle when he saw his nieces on those sonogram pictures. And if he didn’t, I’d give him a swift kick to the head. Okay, may more like the shin.

My phone rang again. I laughed, shaking my head before answering. It was Tori.

“Someone is feeling needy today.”

“Stop. I was actually thinking I could join you and Bella. I’ve got everything under control here and Andy is home already.”

“Yes, that would be so fun.”

“Good, because I’m already on my way to you both. I’m about ten minutes out.”

I smiled, excited to have her join us. Nothing beats spa days with them. We hung up, and I pushed open the door to the tattoo studio.

The familiar scent of ink and antiseptic filled the air. I expected to find Isabella up front, waiting. Maybe her last client cancelled. Her station was empty, too. Shrugging, I took another step. Then another.

A shiver went through me. The hairs on my arms stood at attention. Something was off. More sounds echoed from deeper within the studio. It wasn’t words. Not exactly. More like a sound. A thud? My stomach flipped.

The hallway stretched ahead of me. Muffled words finally registered. Heated words. Who was she talking to? I moved faster. Then I heard another sound. This one was sharper, and there was no denying what it was.

A scream. My blood turned to ice, and I ran.

The storage room came into view. At first, my brain refused to understand what I was seeing. There was a bright red spot on the ground.

Blood? Why was there blood on the ground? And so much of it?

And were those shoes? Dear God, they were. And not just anyone’s shoes. Those were Isabella’s boots.

Instantly, the room came into complete focus. I saw Isabella and a woman with dark hair straddling her. She had her back to me. I peered to the side to make sure.

Hannah.

Isabella’s hair was twisted in her hands. Her head struck the concrete. I flinched. Then her head stuck a second time.

I stepped forward, not realizing that my body was already in motion. Every lesson Owen taught me—every lesson Ivan drilled into my head—every survival instinct I possessed surged forward.

My blade slid free from the sheath against my thigh. It was silent, controlled, and beautifully efficient. I closed the distance. Hannah never saw me coming. My hand buried itself in her hair.

Her head jerked backward. My blade flashed. With a guttural scream, I swiped it across her neck in one swift move. Ear to ear, cutting deep until I severed her carotid arteries.

One clean motion. One decisive cut was all it took. Warm blood sprayed across my hands. Across my dress. Across the concrete. The sound of gurgling and sputtering reached my ears.

Hannah collapsed on top of Izzy. I shoved her off. I’d neutralized the threat. But my girl wasn’t moving. The knife slipped from my fingers.

“Oh God.”

I dropped to my knees. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils. Sharp and pungent. Blood stained her leggings. Her hoodie. The floor beneath her. One hand remained pressed protectively against her stomach. Even now. Even hurt and barely conscious, she was trying to protect the babies.

“Bella?”

I gathered her into my lap. Her head lolled against my shoulder.

“Kinsley…” she whimpered my name.

“I’m here.”