Playboy Princes (Royals of Arbon Academy, #2)(89)

The urge to shout his name was strong, but I knew that distracting him could prove deadly. So I refrained, instead planning my attack as I approached on silent feet.

Rafe had managed to take out half of them by the time I dove onto the one closest to me, disabling him in seconds. Then I moved onto the next. For a minute, I had hope that we could take them out together.

But we hadn’t planned for the black helicopter though, the one that clearly held more people than the six who had dropped. Two more repelled out, one of them shooting Rafe right in the neck with a dart.

I saw it fly. I screamed his name. And our eyes met for a moment before he crashed to his knees.

Then it was all over. The two black-clad figures scooped up the prince, struggling to hold his bulk. But they got to the ropes and the helicopter hauled them up, moving higher than I could reach.

“Rafe!” I screamed, racing along the roof in the hopes I’d find a spot with enough elevation that I could get to him.

I almost made it too, but the dress caught around my feet, and I sprawled just when I might have been able to jump. Sobs caught in my throat as the beast took off into the night; the last thing I saw was the light on its tail disappear as it faded into the darkness.

Getting to my feet, I called Jordan on my palm reader.

“Violet!” he answered after one ring. “Where the fuck are you? I’m going to smack your ass, sweetheart.” His voice was somewhat playful, but I heard the husky tone. He was not doing okay.

A sob escaped me, but it died under a torrent of rage. “I’m on the roof. Helicopter pad. Can you get up here?”

I could feel his confusion in the extended pause. “Yes. We’ll be right there.”

“Hurry,” I said before ending the call.

With red tinting my vision, I slowly made my way back to where the black-clad bodies were strewn. Rafe and I had hurt them, but they weren’t dead. That meant they could tell me where the fuck Rafe had gone.

Reaching the closest, I ripped his mask off to find a dude a few years older than me with blond hair, pale skin, and a long scar on his right cheek. His eyes were closed, so I slapped him once. He jolted back to consciousness a few seconds, and a few hits, later.

“What the…?” he coughed out in a heavy accent. “Who are you?”

My hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off words and air. “You have five seconds to save your life,” I murmured. “Tell me where they took Rafe, and I will let you live.”

He struggled and bucked against my hold, but I’d positioned myself on his body so he couldn’t get free. When he was fairly purple in the face, I released my hold, allowing him some precious oxygen.

“Where is Rafe?” I repeated, barely resisting the urge to choke him out again. Unfortunately, it was hard to talk when being choked, and I needed him to answer me.

“Resistance,” he coughed. “They’re waiting for you.”

This didn’t surprise me. They’d clearly been studying me and knew my weaknesses already. Rafe was definitely one of those.

“Do they have Mattie too?” I asked, rocking back on my heels.

He was finally able to lift his hand and rubbed it across his throat. “I don’t know,” he said. “We had our orders to bring one of the princes in, and this one was the first to present an easy target.”

Yeah, right. Nothing about Rafe was easy, and if they hadn’t ambushed him when he was distracted by his father… and most likely my presence… he’d have killed them all.

Like I was about to.

The guy knew it too as his eyes went wide, hands coming up like he could stop me.

“Violet!” Jordan yelled, heavy footsteps alerting me to his presence.

“Wait,” the resistance dick said at the same time. “What if I could get you to Rafe? Like, right now, no need to wait for them to come to you with demands.”

I paused, my hands flexing against his throat but not constricting yet. “I’m listening,” I said as Jordan’s footsteps pounded closer.

“There’s another helicopter coming to pick the rest of us up. We can disguise you in one of our outfits, and you’ll stroll right in.”

Shit! I really wanted to kill this guy, but that was actually the perfect plan. If he wasn’t trying to trick me.

“If you’re lying to me,” I said through gritted teeth, “you’re going to wish I’d killed you on this roof. My punishment will be way worse than death.”

He was scared of me. I didn’t know why or how—if it was because of whatever expression I wore or if my reputation preceded me—but whatever the reason, it was useful.

“I agree to this deal, on one stipulation,” I told him.

He swallowed hard. “Anything.”

“Jordan comes too.”