Claimed By The Ruthless Power Broker

eet of gray, blurring the illuminated dome of Capitol

ring wheel. Her knuc

hest. It felt like a steel vice crushing her

zzy edges. The PTSD was triggering the physical

ed the p

blindly into her open purse on the passenger seat. Her fingertip

d from her slick, cold fingers

ya hissed thr

ng copper, and ducked her head for a f

he wail of a D.C. polic

blocked the intersection. Directly in front of her, a mass

r right foot down on the brake ped

es shrieked against the we

ed steel bumper of the Escalade. The sickening c

yweight punch. It smashed into Alya's face,

hick blood immediately began to slide down her

art palpitation was turn

from the floorboard. She popped the cap, shook a single white pill into

ld, she saw the driver's sid

n. He held a black umbrella. His right hand hovered n

Marcu

opped. The bile r

, his face a mask of cold, professional

ved her shoulder against the warped door. It groaned, popping

puddle of oily water. She pressed a hand to her bl

cus demanded. His voice was

m her coat pocket. She slid out her British int

. She dug the nails of her free hand into her palm, the sharp

ght onto the plastic card. The bea

ody went rigid, as if he h

horror. He didn't look at Alya. He turned his head and stared d

-grade external microphones fed

n the back seat. Hi

sole button. The heavy, bulletproof glass of the r

motor. She tu

t into a pair of pitch-b

sharp and ruthless, but his eyes were b

, let out a sharp, high-pitched beep. Her

ckward. Her heel slipped in the mud.

oor open, ignoring the torrential ra

stantly blocking out the streetlights. He close

her pale face, locking onto the

es," Alya forced out, clinging to the most

ow, dark chuckle t

se out of Marcus's hand. His k

rcher reached out, his large hand wrapping ar

ed, trying to ya

orward, his grip bruising, and dragged her str