Eloise

The door creaked open, and Mac stepped back into the room.He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun then leveled it at Eli’s chest. “The brat isn’t worth the trouble. He’s going to die.”

I froze, my eyes darting between the gun and Eli. “What—what are you doing?” I let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “This isn’t funny, Mac.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” His tone was sharp, biting.

“No!” My voice cracked. “No, you can’t do that. That’s—” I swallowed hard. “That’s murder!”

Mac gave me a look that said duh. “I know it’s murder.”

I must be hearing things now, right? I took a step forward, panic clawing up my throat. “This wasn’t the plan, Mac. You said ransom! We can’t just kill a man!”

He waved me off like I was a whining child. “Go wait outside, Eloise. I’ll clean this up.”

“No.” The word ripped out of me, louder than I meant. “I won’t let you.”

That got his attention. His gaze sharpened, and he smirked, cruel and taunting. “Then maybe it’s even better this way. I’ll kill him… and frame you for it.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. He meant it. He really meant it.

Anger sparked in me, sharp and hot. Before I could second-guess myself, I lunged at him, shoving him hard. He stumbled back, slamming against the floor, the gun clattering out of his hand.

I didn’t think, I just moved.

Snatching the gun up, I backed toward Eli, my chest heaving. My hands shook so badly I could barely keep the weapon steady. “Stay back,” I warned, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare come closer.”

I planted myself in front of Eli’s chair, shielding him with my body. His breathing was steady behind me, but I could feel his eyes on me.

Mac sneered, scrambling up from the ground. “You think you can scare me with that?” He lunged.

We collided, his hands grappling for the gun, fingers clawing mine. I struggled, kicking, twisting, my heart beating like a drum. His face was inches from mine, twisted with rage.

“Let go!” he snarled.

“Never!” I cried.

And then, BANG.

The sound split the air, deafening in the small room. My ears rang as the weight in my arms went slack.

I stumbled back, breath caught in my throat. Mac stood frozen for a moment, then his body went still.

Blood spread across his chest, warm and sticky against my hands. His eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

I stared down at him, horror seizing me. My hands, my arms, even my shirt were soaked in red.

A scream tore from my throat, loud and raw, bouncing off the walls.

I had just killed a man.

“Oh shut up,” Eli hissed suddenly, his voice low but sharp. “Stop screaming, you’ll bring the whole building down on us."

I whirled to face him, chest heaving, my breath ragged in the silence that followed the gunshot. My hands trembled so badly that the pistol almost slipped from my grip.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I snapped, though the words sounded weak even to my own ears.

“Yes, I do,” he shot back, steady, commanding. “If you want to live long enough to walk out of this room, you’re going to listen to me. Free me, and I’ll help you.”

A bitter laugh scraped from my throat. “Help me? You expect me to believe that? You could be anyone. You could be worse than Mac.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t be sitting here tied to a chair, sweetheart. I’m offering you a deal.”

“I don’t want your deal.” I dropped the gun to my side, my pulse still racing, and tugged my shirt off, leaving only my sports bra clinging to my skin. The fabric was sticky with blood, clinging to me like a second skin, and I couldn’t stand it a second longer.

I felt his eyes burning into me, following the motion, but I forced myself not to look at him. Not to care.

Instead, I crouched down beside Mac’s body, my fingers rifling through his jacket pocket. Keys jingled against my skin, cold and metallic. I pulled them out—two car keys, both sleek, expensive models—and a syringe filled with a clear liquid. My heart leapt at the sight.

Sleeping drug. It had to be.

I turned the vial in the dim light, already imagining what I could do with it.

As my hand closed over Mac’s car key, Eli’s voice cut through again. “Don’t take his.”

I paused, my eyes darting to his. “What?”

“Mac is a dead man, taking his car is like painting a big red target on your back. Police find it, they find you. You don’t want that.” His voice dropped lower. “Neither do I.”

My throat went dry. He sounded so certain. Like he knew exactly what game was being played.

“Then whose should I take?” I asked warily.

“Mine.” His gaze was unblinking, steady. “My partner drove it here. It’s outside. Black coupe. Fast enough to get us away before anyone knows what happened.”

I hesitated, turning the syringe between my fingers, the needle glinting under the flickering lightbulb. Then I raised it, the tip hovering inches from his neck.

Eli’s eyes hardened, a warning sparking there. “Don’t.” His voice was pure command. “Do not stick me with that, Eloise. I’m Eli Montero.”

I almost laughed in his face. “Not this again.”

He leaned forward as far as the ropes allowed, his voice low and deadly serious. “I’m not lying to you. If you touch me with that needle, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

I rolled my eyes, masking the unease that coiled in my gut. “It was funny earlier, but not now. Eli Montero is the first son of the richest Mafia leader in this city. There’s no way he’d be in that club, drinking like some spoiled frat boy. You’re full of it.”

Before he could say another word, I pressed the plunger. The needle slid into his arm.

His jaw tightened as the drug seeped into him. “You’re going to regret this, Eloise.”

I met his eyes, my hand still on the syringe. “I already am.”