Two fingers broke. The phone launched across the room and the screen shattered on impact.
"AHHH! MY HAND!!"
The bald man clutched his hand and screamed, rolling off the sofa onto the floor.
I grabbed the other one by the collar, the one still nursing his cigar, and hauled him up off the couch.
The ashtray on the remains of the coffee table was packed with ash and cigar stubs.
I clamped one hand on his jaw, prying it open, and shoved the entire ashtray against his mouth.
"Eat."
"Mmph! MMPH!"
Ash choked him until his eyes rolled back, mouth stuffed with grit and spit.
Zane dropped his wine glass and stumbled back three steps.
"Susannah Dickerson, you street trash! You're out of your goddamn mind! Do you have any idea where you are?!"
He jabbed a finger at my face.
"You're a dropout, a nobody, the bottom of the food chain! Do you have any clue who Mr. Chambers is?! You touch a single hair on his head—"
I turned my back on him, walked to Mila, and cut the ties around her wrists.
The ligature marks had already drawn blood.
I shrugged off my leather jacket and wrapped it around her whole body.
She was shaking from head to toe.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy, unfocused, and the instant she recognized my face, the tears spilled over.
"Suse, run… you have to run…"
She grabbed my sleeve.
"You can't fight them… they'll sue you…"
"They have lawyers, they have connections. We can't afford this…"
I crouched in front of her and wiped the liquor and blood from her face with the back of my hand.
"Mila, who the hell said anything about fighting?"
"I'm here to take you home. That's it."
Zane had already pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Mr. Perry, there's a situation on the top floor. Some thugs causing trouble. Bring people up, now!"
He hung up, tilted his head, and looked at me with a smirk.
"Susannah, you really think you can roll in here with a couple of punk-ass kids and run wild on my turf?"
"Just you wait."
Less than five minutes later, a stream of people filed into the suite.
Leading them was a man in his early fifties, hair slicked back, wearing a tailored suit.
Lucas Perry. Vice President of the company's Greater American division.
Behind him trailed two attorneys carrying briefcases and over thirty corporate security guards in matching black uniforms with earpieces.
My dozen or so guys looked like amateurs next to this crew. The gap was obvious at a glance.