Frederick was right—ever since I’d seen the first article on TV, I’d been fighting against time. Time needed to fix Tess. Time needed to fight her demons before I wasn’t able to anymore. Everything that’d happened to Tess was my fault and I’d wanted to undo my wrongs before it was too late.

The news saved my business but marked me for death.

Fuck, stop those pessimistic thoughts. I would bathe in blood before I let them kill me.

Brushing damp curls from Tess’s cheeks, I murmured, “Trust me. Everything will be okay.” It has to be. I wanted to die as an old married man after living a lifetime with my perfect other. Not here. Not today.

I refused. I fucking refused.

“Mercer!” Franco’s voice cut through my worry just before a fist collided with my cheekbone.

Pain. Hot spreading, throbbing pain.

Tess screamed as I fell to my knee. I shook my head, scattering the stars from taking over my vision.

Blind rage released an injection of adrenaline and I tore upward. My time may be up but it didn’t mean I would give in to the heinous bitch. I had a personal vendetta and fully intended to win.

Another punch landed on my jaw, sending me stumbling into Tess.

She yelled, “Don’t you fucking touch him!”

The ringing in my ears amplified as another man grabbed Tess by the hair, dragging her away. Hurling her to the floor, he kicked her.

I saw red.

I saw blood.

I saw hell.

Launching myself at him, I swung low and hard. My knuckles bellowed as his head cracked backward, eyes rolling with the uppercut. As he fell, I brought his limp carcass forward, smashing my knee hard into his ribcage and dropped every barrier inside.

I lost all sensation of what I did. What parts I tore, what agony I inflicted.

His scream bounced off the walls as I shed all humanity and went rogue.

I’ll kill him.

No one. Absolutely fucking no one would touch Tess again and survive. I would tear their motherfucking heads off.

“Q!”

I ignored Tess, delivering wrath like a devil-filled tornado. Punch. Wallop. Kick. I wanted to turn his body into a lake of blood.

A silenced gunshot went off.

Time stuttered.

Pain.

Lancing horrendous pain sliced into my thigh.

Sickness raced up my back, coating my tongue with bile.

Motherfucker shot me.

I roared with agony, feeding off the hot lick of fire radiating in my leg. Stumbling away from my unconscious victim, I bent over. Pushing a fingertip into the torn flap of my trousers, I found the bloody mess below.

My breath came hard and deep as another flash of pain consumed my system. My finger was torture but I found the exit hole. No broken bones. No severed arteries. A flesh wound.

A wound sending my anger ratcheting from uncontrollable to psychopathic.

“No! Oh, my God. You shot him!” Tess attacked the asshole who’d lodged a bullet in my limb, bringing a rain of tiny fists onto his torso.

Tess, don’t!

The man batted her arms away, his face contorting with rage. Tess kicked him, screaming.

He slapped her hard, wrenching her neck sideways with force. She went instantly limp, falling into his arms.

No! Fuck no. Not again.

I hurtled toward him, intending to rip his throat out but another man captured Tess, dragging her disorientated body against him. She shook her head, trying to clear the dazed fog, fighting meekly as he grabbed her breast with horrible fingers.

Glowering at me, he yelled, “Stop! Everyone! Behave or we’ll take turns with your little slave before cutting her throat. Got it?”

The threat worked.

I slammed to a halt, breathing hard. Rage siphoned around my body, making me tremble, but I embraced cold calculation.

Glancing around the room, I catalogued everything.

Five men.

A pentagon of doom caged me against the window with Franco in a bloody pile a few metres away. One of his eyes was swollen shut, blood covered his shirt, and he sat painfully, nursing his right side.

Five men.

Three with black hair and smooth blank faces, two with brownish hair and sick satisfaction wrinkling their eyes.

I didn’t recognise any of them.

Red Wolverine?

No, I did enough damage to his operation to risk coming after me so soon.

Emerald Dragon?

No, they were based in Singapore, or was it Hong Kong—either way, I doubted they’d have the resources to come to Rome—not with the heat surrounding their names after I handed over my address book of fuckwit traffickers.

So who are they?

It didn’t matter. Tonight would be the last night they’d be alive. I didn’t need to know any more than that.

I looked at Tess. Her eyes were clear, blazing with anger. Her fierceness gave me strength. No matter what I’d done with my life—healing her and giving her back her fire was enough to land me, maybe not in heaven, but hopefully not in hell.

I’d fixed her in time. Barely.

I would’ve been happy about that—if it wasn’t for the entirely unwinnable situation I faced. Five men against one. Franco was no use to me and I wouldn’t do anything to put Tess’s life in peril again.

“Give her to me and I’ll obey,” I growled.

The room shimmered with violence. A standoff. My knuckles hurt, needing to be lodged in his teeth. My thigh throbbed but shock worked wonders on deleting most of the distraction.

Ten seconds of waiting.

Finally the man nodded, shoving Tess toward me. Striding forward, I wrenched her behind my back. The second her form touched mine, huddling my back in a fierce embrace I sighed, gathering my wits for the next fight.

“Q, I’m sorry—I tried,” Tess cried.

Ignoring her, I kept my body between her and the unwelcome bastards. I concentrated on the best plan available for keeping her unharmed.

You have to get them to leave.

That was my only option. And I didn’t like what I’d have to do to make it come true.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” I hissed.

Tess trembled, her rapid, shallow breaths hitting the back of my neck. Something snapped inside her, turning her silent tears into terror-filled gasps. Pressing hard against me, her teeth chattered. “They can’t—Q…I can’t do it again.” The edge of lunacy in Tess’s voice made my anger reach a whole new boiling point. “I’m bankrupt. I can’t afford another toll! Please. I have nothing left.”

Don’t revert, Tess. Please don’t undo all my fucking hard work.

“Get the fuck out!” I roared. “Get out before I fucking murder you!” Ignoring their guns and soulless eyes, I reached behind, crushing Tess’s front against my spine. I hated how wobbly and cold she was. “I won’t let them take you, esclave. I promise.” On my sister’s grave, I promise. “Stay with me.”

The gunshot in my leg turned from a fire to a cataclysmic inferno.

A silenced semi-automatic was pointed in my face. The man wielding it, sneered; his teeth perfect pegs of white. “We’re not here for her.”

My heart bucked. Spanish accent.

Spain.

Everything clicked into place.

Lynx.

He had midway houses in Rome to traffic the overwhelming number of women he traded in Spain. The complications I’d told Tess about all revolved around that cocksucker. Young, ambitious, with no fucking remorse. Lynx had been a personal enemy ever since he killed a girl I’d agreed to trade for—just because he didn’t like the shirt I wore to the meeting.

Asswipe. Fucking juvenile sadistic delinquent.

Tess stifled a sob, sucking back her downfall into crazy, latching once again onto reality. She twisted in my arms, trying to get free. Glaring at the men, she yelled, “Just leave. Go back to the hole you crawled out of. Don’t do this!”

A man with black hair laughed. “Do what? This?” Closing the distance between us, he swung the gun at my temple.

I didn’t think. Just reacted. Ducking, I launched. Lowering my shoulder, I plowed into his chest, crunching him to the floor in a heap of body parts.

I didn’t care about my leg. All I cared about was ripping out his fucking heart. He gasped for breath punching anywhere he could. He managed to knock the air out of my lungs, bruise a rib, kick my knee.

He was strong, but he didn’t have psychotic rage thrumming in my veins.

Tess.

Above all I had to keep her safe.

I landed a square punch, sending his fighting body into a loose pile of bones. My fingers latched around his gun, wrenching it from his hold. Limping to my feet, I aimed at the ringleader who’d royally fucked up my night.

“Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I swung around. My stomach splattered to my feet. One of the brown-haired men had Tess in a vice-like grip, his gun bruising her temple.

Fuck!

Instantly, I threw my newly acquired weapon away.

If it was just me, I could’ve taken them on. I might not have won—but I would’ve done some serious damage before they killed me.

But I was handcuffed by my love for Tess. I couldn’t put her in any more harm than I’d already caused. How much more did that poor woman have to go through because of me?

I’d brought nothing but death and horror into her life. I’d brought her back from the edge once. I’d paid my debts and I refused to layer her with more.

My eyes locked with Tess: I’m so fucking sorry. So unbelievably sorry for everything that I’ve caused.

Tess exploded into action. Shoving the guy off her, she sprinted the distance between us, colliding with my chest. “Don’t you dare look at me like that Quincy Mercer. Don’t you dare say goodbye.” Her voice cracked as tears gushed from her eyes.

I wanted to hug her forever but another man punched me in the jaw, dragging Tess out of my embrace.

“No!” I spun in the assholes hold, ready to tear off his ears. My heartbeat relocated to my thigh, thundering a fucking gong of agony.

“Enough!” The man struck my temple, crashing me into Franco. I tripped over his body. He groaned in pain, but his eyes were fierce and ready to fight. “Je couvre tes arrières, Mercer. Nous pouvons les prendre. Ensemble. ” I’ve got your back, Mercer. We can take them. Together.

His shoulder looked dislocated, and he bled out of his ears—concussion. His left hand was hidden in his bloody blazer. He’d put up a good fight but no matter how good, the odds were against us.

My eyes flickered between the Spanish men, waiting to see if they understood.

One man stalked toward Tess, shoving a gun against her head. Looking at me, he ordered, “Get up, asshole.” He didn’t seem to know what Franco said—just working on precaution.  Obviously the dumb fucks couldn’t speak French.

“Tu es blessé. Ne leur donne pas une raison de nous tuer. Tu connais le plan. Il faut s’y tenir.” You’re hurt. Don’t give them a reason to kill us. You know the plan. Stick to it. I glared at Franco, willing him to stay down and not be fucking stupid. I needed him for the next stage. And if the next stage failed, I needed him to look after Tess.

Franco’s face blackened. “Je vais la garder en sécurité.” I’ll keep her safe.

My heart stuttered in relief. I trusted Franco as much as I trusted Frederick. As long as Tess was with them, I could keep my mind sharp and find a way to survive—away from her—away from the distraction of trying to keep her from being hurt.

I have to get them to leave.

“Stop speaking in French if you don’t want your little girlfriend’s brains splattered all over the glass you fucked her against.”

Goddammit, I needed to kill these bastards. And I would, one way or another. In this life or the next. My teeth ached to tear into them. My hands already steamed with phantom blood—their blood. I fucking hated to think of Tess seeing this—especially after everything I’d done to save her.

Stumbling upright, I glowered at the man holding my woman. “Leave her alone.”

There was no denying I deserved this. After all, I’d put more traffickers down while searching for Tess than the worldwide Interpol had in three years, but it didn’t mean I was prepared to pay their price.

What did they expect?

Money? My life? Torture?

If I knew their end goal, I might be better prepared. I’d know which weapon to use. The only positive thing was they’d come for me. Not her.