I glance down, pulse spiking as I check under my sleeve and stupidly even check the other arm despite the fact it has never left the wrist I put it on. I stumble backward, searching the ground, convinced I dropped the very tight bracelet somewhere close, easy to see. Because it has to be here. It has to.

The more I search—out of blind desperation at this point—the more sickly my heart pounds. It was from Mom. All I had left. It has to be here. Losing my bracelet would be like losing her all over again.

Where.

The fuck.

Is it?

I’m flying off into panic mode as I pat down my front and my ass and scramble around in my pockets. There’s nothing. It’s not here.

Maybe I left it in the car or the warehouse or⁠—

I glimpse the deep scratch marks on my wrist where my bracelet should be. Remember Luther’s tight hold before I yanked myself out of his bruising grip.

Luther did this. My stomach turns over itself so violently, I stagger into the wall.

The ringing in my ears drowns out whatever the fuck is coming through the comms as my entire world funnels into this pressurized moment of existence. My bare wrist. The one tether I had to being loved and wanted in this world. The only lasting reminder of my mom.

Gone.

And he took it from me.

My rage explodes.

Hot and fire and the ringing in my ears keeps ringing.

There’s a high chance I’m about to die.

But Luther is going to die first.

I break into a run.

I’m thirsting for the type of revenge that will have my chest burst open. I want to take everything Luther has ever loved and extinguish it all at once. He knows what it’s like, he’s done that before, and this time, just this time, he’s done it to the wrong fucking person.

My name being shouted in my ear is trying to take over the constant roar of fire, and instead of letting it, I reach up and fling the comms away. It’s lucky I can’t think or speak or reason with myself because I save my energy for when I reach the door to Lethal Poison, and then I kick that fucker open.

It bangs into the wall, testing the hinges, rattling the windows, and then flings back in my direction again. I’m ready for it. My foot almost goes right through the wood as I send it back where it came from.

The bar is in complete disarray, and I have to shove tables and chairs out of my way as I tear across the space. I’m not being quiet or sneaky. Not stopping to worry or plan. All I know is that the second I get to Luther, this whole fucking thing is over.