Chapter 5

Elena gasped as Marcus threw her onto the cold concrete. Pain shot through her knees and palms, the impact jarring her bones. The silver combat knife slipped from her numb fingers, skittering across the slick, oil-stained floor before disappearing into the shadows near a stack of rusted shipping crates.

“Look at you,” Marcus sneered, approaching with an air of arrogant triumph. He paused to straighten the immaculate cuffs of his expensive coat, looking down at her as though she were dirt beneath his shoes. “Dressed up for a wedding that never happened, crawling around in the dirt with Mercer’s blood…