I got to my feet, following him with the gun in hand. I needed shoes on at the very least, just in case we did need to evacuate.
Archer was quickly dressing, pulling a black T-shirt over his muscular chest. So I sat on the end of the bed to put my socks and shoes on, then swept my hair up in a high ponytail. The alarm was still screaming, making my head ring, but I ignored it.
"Wear this," Archer told me, ripping open a carefully wrapped gift box. He lifted a delicate necklace out. "It's a gift from Steele, but I doubt he'll mind me giving it to you."
I frowned in confusion at the odd timing for a present but lifted my hair out of the way so he could clasp it behind my neck for me. The pendant was a small, gold music note that sat just an inch below the hollow of my throat.
"Arch—" I started to say, but was interrupted by heavy pounding on the front door.
Both Archer and I grabbed our guns before hurrying back through the suite to open it.
"Not a decoy," the guard informed us. "Smoke is coming up through the south fire escape. Hotel is on fire; we gotta get out of here ASAP."
Archer spat a string of curses, then grabbed a second gun to tuck into the back of his jeans. He handed me two extra clips for mine, and I stuffed them into the pockets of my hoodie.
"Alright, stay close. I'll put money on the fact that this is a trap." Archer looked grim, but I knew where his head was at. What were our other options? Stay put and risk burning alive? That certainly didn't factor high in my list of preferred ways to die.
We moved out quickly, heading for the north stairwell to get out. Adamson took the lead, followed by Archer, then me, and Ryan took our rear. At each and every bend of the staircase, they followed military-style procedures. Despite the pressing need to get out of the burning hotel, no one was taking chances at being ambushed. We'd waited so long after the alarm had initially gone off that the stairwell was empty, all the other hotel guests probably having already made it outside.
Around the time we reached the seventh floor, the heavy sounds of boots on stairs traveled up to us from below, along with voices.
Archer and Adamson exchanged a flurry of hand signals, then Adamson took off ahead, hurrying down the next few flights well ahead of us. Meanwhile, Ryan peered over the railing and gave a small shrug.
"Looks like firefighters, boss," he told Archer in a low voice.
Archer gave a nod, peering over the railing himself. "Probably," he murmured, "stay close anyway, Kate."
We continued down and soon ran into a half-dozen fully geared-up firefighters. But... no sign of Adamson.
"Hey," Archer barked when the firefighters were on the landing below us. "Where—"
That was all he got out before one of the "firefighters" pulled a gun from under his heavy jacket and shot Archer straight in the chest.
"No!" I screamed, reaching out to grab Archer. My fingers snagged his T-shirt, but he was already falling. His weight tipped forward, and I could do nothing but watch in horror as he toppled down the short flight of stairs toward the firefighters.
Ryan grabbed me faster than I could fully react, shoving me behind his body and around the low corner of the stairs as he popped off a series of bullets toward our attackers. He dropped three of them, but then he, too, collapsed.
My pulse thundering, I clutched at my own gun. I kept low, hiding behind the low railing but knowing it'd only be a matter of seconds before the remaining attackers were on me. Tears burned at my eyes, but there was no time for falling apart. If I was going down—and I probably was—then the least I could do was take some of them with me.
With that thought, a calm resolve flooded through me. I slipped into a cold, emotionless trance and let my fresh training take the reins.
Quicker than a whip, I rolled out of my hiding place and fired on my attackers. There were more of them now, but I wasn't shooting to stay alive. I was shooting to inflict damage, and as much of it as possible.
When my body jerked and searing hot pain flooded my veins, I hit the ground with the sweet satisfaction of knowing I'd dented their numbers. That, apparently, was the best I could do.
My limbs lost feeling and my vision blackened, but I still held onto enough consciousness to watch one of the firefighters crouch down beside me, then sweep his helmet off.
Fuck.
"You cunt," I spat with damn near my last breath.
"Such language, Madison Kate," Zane scolded me. "Your mother would be horrified."
I wanted to curse him out, to tell him my mother would have personally cut his balls from his body for this. But... I had nothing left.
The fire alarm continued to scream in my ears, but my whole world went black and my body gave up the fight.
36
Ever so slowly, consciousness crept back into my brain. For several moments, it was just a daze of confusion and pain, but after a series of deep, calming breaths, I found my wits once more.
Enough that I connected some important dots. The first of those was I hadn't been shot like I'd thought. I wasn't bleeding, and I wasn't dying. I'd been tranquilized. That gave me a surge of hope that Archer had only been tranked too... It certainly would explain the way he'd instantly crumpled and the lack of blood spray.
The second thing I assessed was that I was bound. A thick gag covered my mouth, and my wrists were tightly tied behind me. Worse yet, I was in the trunk of a car. Again.
Fuck.
A weak, pathetic sound of fear whined out of my throat before I could get a handle on it, and my body trembled with anxiety.
Pull it together, MK. You survived every other small space; you'll survive this one.
Still, it was one thing to give myself a stern pep-talk. It was another to calm my panicking body down. As it was, I was tugging frantically at my wrist restraints and trying to free myself. The effort was totally futile, and I already knew this, but couldn't stop trying anyway.
The car was moving, the rumble of the engine vibrating through the trunk, and I couldn't stop the flood of worst-case scenarios washing through my brain. What the hell was Zane up to? Why had he suddenly flipped on us? I'd never totally trusted him, but I'd really believed he was looking out for my safety. Why else would he tell me about Archer's marriage arrangement? Why help me out with a place to stay and…?
But the answer was clear. Because it all hurt Archer. And he hated his little brother. Hated the fact that he was beholden to him and that he could do nothing to wriggle free. Until now, it seemed. Zane had made his move, and I could only hope it was all about to spectacularly blow up in his sneaky, lying face.
Fuck.
I had a weirdly confident gut feeling I knew where Zane was taking me. Like Archer had said, we no longer believed in coincidence, and it was all too coincidental that Kruger was in Shadow Grove at the same time as Zane pulled a reckless move like this.
None of my thrashing was loosening my hands at all. It was just exhausting me. So instead, I bit down hard on my gag and turned my effort inward. I needed to survive however long I was going to be left trapped in the trunk of this car. I needed to overcome my claustrophobia, or I'd be no use to anyone when I was eventually let out.
It was hard. It was so freaking hard, and by the time the car had stopped, it felt like I'd been locked in that truck for days. But despite the cold sheen of terrified sweat all over my body, I was still okay. I was still holding onto my sense of self and hadn't dissolved into a mindless puddle of panicked goo, or worse.