He Wants Me Dead Or Alive

Rosa's POV

My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my teeth. Two men stood over me, cursing in some sharp foreign language, words snapping like whips, faces twisted in anger.

They were pissed at each other, at me, at the whole damn situation and I was just sitting there on the cold concrete, wrists tied tight behind my back, trying not to let them see how scared I was.

My name was Rosa Stewart, and I was about to tell you exactly why these idiots were cursing themselves stupid in a tongue I couldn't even recognize, but before I could even get the first sentence out in my head, the door crashed open with a bang that echoed off the walls.

Bright light flooded in, blinding after hours of shadows, and a tall figure stepped through, moving like he owned the darkness itself.

I squeezed my eyes half-shut, praying it was Luca, please let it be Luca, let him have come to fix this mess he'd dragged me into.

It wasn't Luca. He looked like him?

There was no time to figure out who it was, because the two guards exploded into motion, shouting, rushing the newcomer with knives flashing. One of them tripped in his hurry, and his blade clattered to the floor right near my feet. I didn't think. I twisted hard, ignoring the rope tearing skin, fingers stretching until they closed around the handle.

The stranger was already fighting, fast and brutal, slamming one guard into the wall with a sickening thud. He glanced over, saw me standing there ready to go, and his dark eyes widened just a fraction.

"The lady shouldn't fight?" he said, voice low and edged with amusement even as he drove a fist into the other man's stomach.

I bared my teeth. "This lady has a bronze medal in national sparring, so maybe shut up and worry about your own face."

I lunged before he could answer. The second guard swung at me, wild and sloppy. I slipped to the side, years of drills kicking in, and snapped a palm strike straight up into his nose. Blood sprayed. He howled.

I dropped low, hooked his ankle, yanked, then brought my knee crashing into his groin as he fell. He curled up whimpering. I finished with a sharp elbow to the temple. Out cold.

"Woah," the stranger breathed, finishing his guy with a clean hook that snapped the head back. "You do know how to fight."

"You better stop talking and watch your damn back," I snapped, already spinning toward the doorway where more boots were pounding closer.

He laughed-actually laughed-while ducking a flying chair. "Are you really my brother's fiancée? I heard you once flew home early because you got a splinter in your foot. And here you are kicking ass like it's Tuesday."

I blocked a punch, countered with a quick jab to the throat. The man choked and staggered. "I do more than