THE DEVIL'S PREY
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
"No—" she mumbled against the hand, her struggles slowing.
Darkness crept at the edges of her sight, and she could barely register the way her captor held her tightly, his grip firm but not unnecessarily cruel.
The last thing she felt was the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the faintest whisper—so low, so quiet, it almost didn't exist.
Then, everything faded to black.
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The black Mercedes car sat idle under the tree of the mansion', its engine purring softly in the stillness of the night. Xavier moved swiftly, his grip firm yet careful as he carried Sarah toward the vehicle. Her body was limp in his arms, her head resting against his chest as the chloroform kept her unconscious. He watched closely before he walked swiftly to the car.