Oath Bound (Unbound) - By Rachel Vincent Page 0,147
wiped the blade of the knife on her dark skirt, then handed it back to her guard. Then she pulled a pen from the purse she’d left on her chair and held the blank sheet of paper against the wall, so she could write on it. She scribbled for mere seconds. Only two lines.
My heart thumped so hard I could practically hear it. I was too far away to read the lines, but I could tell from the brevity that she was right—there weren’t enough words to form a decent loophole. It probably said something like, “Kristopher Daniels will protect me with his every breath and obey my every order, whether stated or implied.”
Julia Tower was every bit as much of a monster as the one she’d replaced.
“Watch him,” she said to Mitch, who now sat in her chair, putting his shoes on. Then she disappeared through the door, into the short hall that would lead her to the room where my sister was being held.
“You saw my family?” I said the minute the door closed behind Julia.
Mitch tightened the knot in his shoelaces, then set his foot on the floor and rested his elbows on his knees. “Just Kori. But her boyfriend and your girlfriend were with her.”
Through the window, on the edge of my vision, I saw Julia step into Kenley’s room. Lincoln stepped back to make room for her, and when Julia gave him an order I couldn’t hear, he pulled the blindfold from Kenni’s head.
Her eyes widened when she saw him, and fear glistened like tears in her eyes.
Mitch stood and stalked toward me with an arrogant swagger born of the fact that I was tied up, but he was free—an irony, if I’d ever seen one, considering that he was bound to Julia and I was, at least for the moment, in charge of my own decisions. “You’re still bleeding. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity like that.”
In the other room, Julia was still talking. She held up the oath she’d drafted, and Kenley glanced at it, then shook her head. Julia gestured angrily at me through the glass, and Kenley responded with what could only be a Kori-inspired string of expletives.
Mitch leaned closer, drawing my attention as he pulled a wadded-up tissue from his pocket. He leaned in to mop up the blood on my neck, and I lurched upright as hard and fast as I could, sacrificing balance for power. My forehead smashed into his and he stumbled backward stunned.
I wobbled on my feet, still tied to the legs of the chair.
The guard by the wall drew his gun as Mitch tripped over his own feet and hit the ground on his ass. “Don’t shoot! Julia wants him alive.”
The guard hesitated, and I took advantage of that moment to throw my full weight at the ground, using Mitch to cushion my fall. I twisted at the last second, driving my shoulder into his torso. I felt something crack, and Mitch howled over at least two fractured ribs.
When I looked up, the guard was almost on us, his gun in hand, but unaimed. I shoved my legs out straight as hard as I could, and was rewarded when the ties around my ankles slipped over the ends of the chair legs.
Now free from the chair, my hands still tied at my back, I waited until the guard was almost on me, then rolled off of Mitch and twisted to the side. When the guard hesitated to shoot me a second time, I wrapped my feet around his left ankle and bent my knees, pulling as hard as I could. His leg slipped out from under him and he went down on his right hip on the concrete. Hard.
The guard groaned, and I sat up, then spun on my ass. In position, I leaned back and brought both heels of my boots crashing down into his skull. Blood burst from his nose and his eyes closed. His hand went limp and his gun clattered onto the concrete. I slammed my heels into his throat, crushing his windpipe. He gurgled and choked, but did not regain consciousness.
He’d be dead in minutes. I couldn’t afford to leave a trained fighter alive at my back.
Mitch backed away from me on his ass, one arm pressed to his side, struggling to get to his feet. He seemed to have forgotten he had a gun, which supported my theory that he’d been a glorified taxi service for Jake