after they met her

fiftyfive

i v a n a

Too distracted.

Too relieved.

My heart hammered in my chest as I saw my brothers through the smoke of the explosion. I barely registered the sharp sting of someone slapping the gun from my hand.

Matthew and Gray, covered in dust and grime. They were here. They were really here. They were fighting for us.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw Rick grabbing Jaqueline, sprinting in the opposite direction. I wanted to call out, to scream for him to stop, but before I could, my gaze met Daniel's.

Before I could process it, Daniel's face twisted with fury as he stormed toward us. His eyes, filled with raw rage, locked onto me, but it was Glenn who stood in his path, defiant.

Without warning, he lunged forward

Daniel plunged a knife into Glenn's side, pulling a gut-wrenching scream from him. But Daniel wasn't done. He yanked the knife from Glenn's body and, with brutal precision, drove it straight through my arm. The sharp, searing pain shot through me, tearing another scream from my throat, loud, desperate.

My scream ripped through the air, a deafening, guttural sound that I barely recognized as my own.

It didn't matter.

Daniel released the knife, letting Glenn crumple to the ground like he was nothing.

In an instant, his hands were tangled in my hair, yanking me backward, dragging me toward the house. "Kill them all!" he barked, even though his men had already charged toward the explosion. His grip tightened, his knuckles white with fury.

Everything became a blur of agony and confusion as one of Daniel's men grabbed Glenn, dragging us both back into the house. My arm throbbed, blood soaking through my clothes as I struggled against the iron grip pulling me down the hallway.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he pulled me through the hallways, his breath ragged with rage. I couldn't resist. My legs moved weakly, stumbling under his control as we entered a room—his study, by the look of it.

Dark wooden furniture, bookshelves stacked with knowledge that felt like a mockery of the madness unfolding.

He threw me to the ground, pacing to his desk.

His movements were frantic, every step laced with barely contained panic. Daniel grabbed a half-empty bottle of gin, taking a long, desperate gulp before slamming it down. His face twisted with bitterness as he turned to the window, his body rigid, shoulders tensed, fingers twitching around the bottle's neck.

His eyes darted back and forth outside, searching for something—anything—that might signal a loss of control. He muttered to himself, barely audible but full of nervous energy. "It's fine... they won't get through. They're keeping them out. Everything's going according to plan."

But his voice wavered. His hands fidgeted, rubbing against the side of his slacks, as though trying to convince himself.

The world outside rumbled with distant explosions and muffled gunfire, echoing through the thick walls of the mansion. I could hear the chaos unfolding beyond the door, my brothers fighting through the storm to get to us.

But inside this room, inside this hell, it was just Daniel, Glenn, the unknown man and me.

My arm throbbed, blood trickling down my wrist, the searing pain making it hard to think straight. Every breath felt shallow, like the air itself was suffocating me.