Julian's grip tightened around my wrist as he dragged me through Natalie's front door. My head throbbed from where it had hit the car window, and warm blood trickled down my temple. Each step sent a wave of dizziness through me, but Julian didn't slow down or loosen his hold.
"Natalie!" he called out, his voice filled with panic. "Where are you?"
A muffled scream answered him from upstairs. Julian's pace quickened, pulling me along like a ragdoll. I stumbled on the stairs, nearly falling to my knees, but he yanked me upright without a glance.
"Keep up," he growled.
We burst into Natalie's private quarters, and the scene before us made Julian freeze in his tracks. A man in black held a silver-edged knife to Isabelle's throat. The child's eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down her face. Natalie was on her knees a few feet away, her perfect makeup smeared with tears.
"Please," she sobbed dramatically. "Don't hurt my baby!"
