I could see myself in the mirrored wall over his head, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Between the plaster dust on my hair and clothes and the fact that I looked like I’d been hit with a car, I was a little bit of a mess. But that had nothing on Guy, whose face was stained by a trickle of blood leaking from a cut above his temple. A gag had been stuffed in his mouth and his arms were bound behind his back. It was precisely the opposite of every situation we’d shared for four years. Guy was the damsel in distress, and I was the only thing that could save him. “Nice of you to join us,” Tamara Diesel said, her feet propped up on a table. I turned my head her direction, never taking my eyes off of Guy. Rage and terror made a dangerous cocktail in my veins. I could feel my hands shaking, but I didn’t know if it was fatigue, fear, or fury. “Let him go.” “Oh, I will. But I think you understand how this works a little better than most, no?”
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