Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,77

in pain. He did not release her, though his grip slackened a little. Putting both feet down, she dug the tread of her winter shoes into the floor, making it twice as hard for him to move her forward. Another scream bounced off the stone walls, deafening in the confined space.

“Shut up,” he growled near her ear, picking her up to move her three feet fast toward the window.

Chey tipped her head forward and slung it back as hard as she could, legs kicking out in front of her to catch against the window sill or the wall—anything to stop her from being thrown out.

That was his intent. To dump her out and make it seem as if she'd jumped or fallen.

The bastard.

A crack of bone was her reward. The brute released her all at once and staggered to the right.

Chey stumbled forward, catching a hand on the wall. Spinning, she didn't run for the door but for him, using the momentum of his stagger to send him sprawling into the wall with a shove. With any luck, he would hit his head and go unconscious.

No luck. He crashed against it, blood dripping from his nose, but didn't go down.

Then she ran. Ran like the devil himself was breathing down her neck. To the door, onto the landing. Down one step, two. Panting, heart racing, unable to see as well as she needed to.

A grunt and rustle behind her told Chey the man was already in pursuit.

Oh God.

One hand shot out to the wall to help steady her descent, to maybe help catch her if she suddenly stumbled and fell. Or was pushed.

What she didn't expect was to run into a body coming up the stairs as fast as she was going down them. The collision bounced her back a half step and she screamed again, throwing an elbow forward to try and connect with a chin or a nose.

An arm wrapped her shoulders and rolled her past to the stairs below. Putting himself between her and the brute just before impact. Chey caught the distinct scent of Sander's cologne, knew by feel and by the shape of his body it was him.

She glanced back in time to see Sander engage the brute; the men battled on the stairs, fists flying. Chey saw the whole thing in strobe-like glimpses rather than as a whole. There wasn't enough light spilling in a skinny window to cover the entire staircase.

Backing down another three steps, one hand braced on the wall, Chey watched in horror as one man threw the other onto the stairs and battered at his face with a fist. Just then, she couldn't tell who was who. Both had blonde hair, both wore thick coats.

A boom blew through the stairwell, so loud that Chey temporarily went deaf.

One man slumped onto the stairs.

“Sander!” Regardless of the danger to herself, she rushed back up the stairs, ready to gouge the eyes out of the brute. The thought of Sander dying sent a spike of fear straight through her.

“I'm all right, I'm all right,” Sander said, pushing himself off the step. The gleam of a gun shone in his hand.

Chey, overwhelmed with relief that Sander hadn't been shot, hugged him tight.

He caught her and held her with one arm, the other lowering the gun to his side.

“What happened? Who was that? Is he dead?” Chey asked, twisting a look down.

“I don't know who it is yet, too hard to see in here. But he's dead unless he's talented enough to survive a gunshot to the head.” Sander sounded disgusted.

“I thought he was you up in the tower. He pretended to be you to lure me here,” she whispered, turning her head away from the fallen man.

“I knew something was up when I saw you heading out to the truck. Come on, the cavalry should be here shortly.” Sander guided her around the dead man and down the rest of the stairs.

Chapter Sixteen

The interrogation took place in a formal office Chey had never seen. Located on the first level at the far back of the castle, the room sported a long, square table, endless chairs and a television screen attached to the wall at one end.

Coffee came at regular intervals as Chey precisely and accurately detailed all the events that had happened since her arrival at the castle. Allar was there, as well as Hendrik with his scar and his scowl. Urmas paced at one end while an array of security took notes and