Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Of course, I'm here. I've spent every second searching for you. I wasn't going to give up, not until I had you back in my arms. I love you. The moment I opened that crate, and you weren't inside with Tatum, I about lost my mind.”
The mere mention of Tatum makes my heart clench. “Is… Is Tatum okay?” I have to force the words, since I'm afraid to know the answer.
“Physically, yes. Emotionally we don't know yet,” he soothes, petting my hair gently. “And I wish we had more time to talk, but we need to get out of here before more men arrive.” He releases me and turns, blocking me with his body. “Stay behind me and keep close. I don't know how bad it will get and I don't want to lose you.”
I nod and push away the terror threatening to claw its way out of me. I just want this nightmare to end. We step out of the dark and dingy cell and into another room. The lights above are bright, and I must rely on Callum to lead the way until my eyes adjust. They do so just in time for me to get a look at a man slumped against the wall. A splatter of blood on the cinder blocks marks the spot where he was standing when he was shot in the head.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize him as the guy who cracked his knuckles and later slapped me until I was dizzy. The perverse impulse to laugh is almost too much to ignore, but there's no time. We round a corner, and another pair of dead men greet us. Adrenaline pulses in my veins when the sound of footsteps ring out up ahead of us.
“Stay back.” Callum shoves me around the corner an instant before an ear-piercing gunshot sounds, followed by another.
Callum falls back beside me, breathing hard, his gun hitting the floor before I understand why. The blood that starts to bloom like a crimson flower on his blue shirt gives me my answer. “No, no,” I whisper, staring in horror as the blood spreads through the fabric. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. I can't lose him like this, not after everything. Instinct drives me to press my hand to the wound to help stop the bleeding.
“Flesh wound,” he grunts, raising an arm to wipe away the sweat beading against his brow. “I'll be fine, I promise.”
“Torrio,” Dominic's voice taunts from down the hall. “You're not giving up that easily, are you? If so, I'm disappointed. I won't lie, I expected more from you.”
He shot Callum. He spilled his blood. Fear and anger make it hard for me to concentrate on the next step. If we don't move, we're sitting ducks, but where else can we go? Back to the cell?
“What do we do?” A panicked whisper escapes me while blood continues to flow from his wound. No matter how much pressure I apply, I can't make it stop.
“Go,” he grunts. “Run. Get out of here.”
“But I don't know where we are!”
“Car's... outside,” he groans through the pain. “Hurry. All that matters is you and the baby.”
“Come on!! I was just starting to have fun,” Dominic yells. The heavy click of his footsteps grows louder the closer he gets. We're as good as dead if we don't get moving.
“You have to go,” Callum urges.
“I'm not leaving you.”
“Bianca…” Dominic taunts, his voice light, singsong. “I'll make you a deal. Come with me without a fight, and I might spare your baby daddy's life.”
Closer. He's getting closer, and every footstep heightens my panic until I can hardly hear anything other than my own racing heartbeat.
“Come out, come out,” Dominic croons. “We both know what you need to do if you want him to live. I'm going to count to five. You show yourself before I reach five, and we'll be on our way. Otherwise? You'll still come with me, but you'll also have his death on your conscience. What's it going to be?”
“Run,” Callum insists, his hands shoving me away before pointing down the hall. “There's a back door. There will be somebody out there, watching the door. Hurry, go.”
What do I do? I have to protect the baby, but I can't leave him here. I refuse. I love him too much to do that. I know what I have to do, even if I don't believe I have the strength to do it. I'm tired of running. Tired of crying and being afraid. None of those things will end this.
The bulge above Callum's ankle catches my attention, and I pull up his pant leg to find a knife strapped there. “What are you doing?” he demands when I pull it free.
What am I doing? Maybe the stupidest thing possible, but Dominic won't take anything else from me.