Filed To Story: Craving The Wrong Brother Book PDF Free by Elysian Sparrow
Network’s jammed.
I toss the phone onto the seat and start scanning the car like my life depends on it, because right now, it kind of does, I need to get out. Fast.
I check the console. The side pockets. Nothing useful. No safety hammer. No sharp edge. No help.
Dammit, Knox. You’re supposed to be paranoid. Where the hell is your emergency gear?
I twist around and dig under the seats, reaching blindly into the shadows. Still nothing. Then my eyes move to the glove box. The gun. He keeps a gun in there. Or at least he used to.
I scramble forward between the seats, knees digging into the leather as I stretch for the center console. My fingers brush something metal. A key. Thank God. I jam it into the glove box and turn.
It clicks open.
There it is.
The gun is right where I last saw it, tucked into the corner like it’s been waiting for this moment. I grab it with both hands. It’s heavier than Jade’s, rougher in my grip.
I shift back toward the window and lift the gun, careful to aim low, away from my face. My arms tremble as I hold it. I angle my head to the side and squeeze the trigger.
Nothing.
Shit.
The safety.
I flip it off with my thumb-at least I remember that much-and squeeze again.
The bang that follows is explosive, bouncing off the windows and roof like a bomb just went off inside the car. My ears ring. The glass doesn’t burst right away, but it cracks, forming a sort of spiderweb shape.
I turn the safety back on, drop the gun on the seat, and start kicking.
Hard.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over.
Finally, the window gives. Glass falls away in chunks, and I don’t wait. I grab the gun and shove myself through the jagged frame, scraping my side as I -land on the pavement outside.
I glance at the warehouse.
It’s too quiet.
No gunshots. No yelling. Just a dead silence that makes the hairs on my arms rise.
I don’t know what’s happening inside. I don’t know what I’m walking into. But I can’t just stand here doing nothing.
I keep low as I move, following the path the others took. My shoes crunch softly on gravel, but I don’t stop. The air smells like rust and mold.
When I get to the open door, I pause right at the edge. The inside of the warehouse stretches out in front of me, wide and empty. It’s darker than I thought it would be. The shadows cling to the corners, making it hard to tell where the walls end. A narrow strip of moonlight shines down through a crack in the roof. Dust hangs in the air like glitter.
I tiptoe in.
My eyes adjust slowly. There’s no one in this first room. Just old mail carts, some overturned shelving units, and broken crates scattered everywhere. I round a corner, hugging the wall, and pause when I hear it-
Voices.
Distant. But definitely there.
I follow the sound, weaving through the maze of old furniture and abandoned equipment. The closer I get, the more it clarifies-tense voices, overlapping, no shouting yet. Just heavy words. It’s coming from below.
There’s a staircase.
I spot it at the end of the hallway. Rusted. Metal. Leading down into what looks like a basement.
I move toward it.
And then, suddenly, I feel a hand.
Over my mouth.
A hard grip slams around me from behind, dragging me back against a solid chest.
I gasp, but no sound comes out.
Something cold and hard presses against my ribs.
“Hand over your gun quietly,” a voice, male, whispers. “And don’t try anything funny if you don’t want to pack your guts off the floor.”
I’ve seen enough hostage standoffs in crime dramas to know that whatever I’ve walked into right now, it’s bad. Really bad.
I shouldn’t have gotten out of the car.
I know that now.
Bat what kind of girlfriend would I be if I sat there while Knox walked into danger alone? He always acts like he’s the only one who would be shattered if f died. What he doesn’t understand is that if something happens to him, if he doesn’t walk out of here alive, I won’t survive it either. Maybe not physically, but in all the ways that matter, I’d be gone too.
So yeah. If this ends in flames, then fine. We’ll burn together.
I slowly raise my hand, passing him the gun just like he asked. He takes it from me. Then his hand leaves my mouth, and before I can blink, he starts patting me down. I tense up when he brushes over my chest, down my thighs, fingers pressing into places he shouldn’t be touching. My whole body wants to flinch away, but I keep still. Something about the way he talks-thick Russian accent, no emotion behind the words-makes me think it’s smarter not to piss him off. So I swallow the disgust crawling up my throat and let him do his check.
When he’s done, he grabs my arm and starts pushing me forward.
Down the stairs.
The voices that had been echoing from below go silent as we descend.
At the bottom, we enter what I recognize as the basement from Mateo’s video call. Dim lighting. Bare concrete floor. And too many guns.
I freeze.
Finn, Soraya, and Hunter are still tied up. But what I walk into isn’t the ambush I was expecting. No bullets flying. No screaming. No men bursting through doors with war cries and rifles.
Instead, it’s quiet. Too quiet. And every single person with a gun in this basement has it pointed at someone else.
Knox’s men and Mateo’s are locked in a full standoff. Everyone’s weapon is aimed at someone’s chest.
I glance around. It takes me a second to realize that Knox’s side is winning by just one. The extra man is currently crouched by Hunter’s chair, slicing through the ties around his arms and legs. He doesn’t stop, even though his eyes move to me the second I show up.
Everyone else sees me too.
Finn turns his head. His eyes lock on mine fast, and he straightens a little in his seat. He’s bruised and a little bloodied, which tells me that Mateo’s men must have done something to him after they disconnected the call. That bruise under his eye wasn’t there before.
“Sloane?” he says, more out of reaction than as a question.
“What the hell,” Serena adds.
Soraya rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
Hunter doesn’t speak, but his jaw flexes hard. They’re all looking at me like I don’t belong here. Like I just became the variable that’ll blow everything up.
Serena’s the only one not tied up. She’s leaning against the wall, breathing hard. One foot is on the ground while the bandaged one is slightly elevated. Her two hands are holding a rusted pipe tight enough that her knuckles are white. It looks like she’d been hopping to the stairs before I came down.
They’re all looking at me now.
Knox. Mateo. Everyone. wea, zow
Knox is standing about ten feet away with his gun pointed directly at Mateo’s head. He doesn’t say anything, but the way his jaw tightens tells me everything.
He’s pissed.
His arm shifts, and in a second, the gun that had been aimed at Mateo turns toward the man behind me.
“Let her go,” he says.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.