Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I stood halfway down the stairs with the tray in my hand. Motionless, I just stood there, thinking about everything she’d said, that she was so unbelievably selfless I could hardly believe it. I let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes. “Goddammit.”
I paced my living room as I called him.
He picked up on the first ring. “What happened?”
I wasn’t the kind of man that lied. It didn’t suit my self-interest because I simply had no reason to hide information from anyone. I was at the top of the food chain, having no enemies of consequence. But I lied now. “He hasn’t called back.”
He growled into the phone. “I want that fucker dead.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve come up with a better plan.”
He remained quiet.
“Challenge him to a fight in the ring. We both know he has no chance.”
Liam was still quiet, but when he didn’t reject it right away, I knew he was interested. His beef with Damien was personal, intimate, and he wanted to destroy him with his bare hands. Whether Damien handed himself over or they met in the ring, the outcome would be exactly the same. “You think he’d go for it?”
“Absolutely.” Damien was impulsive and stupid, and he would agree to this without thinking about the consequences. He would either believe he could actually win, or he wouldn’t think that far and would do anything he could to get Anna back.
“I like that idea better. I can kill him in front of everyone…and Anna.”
Twenty-Two
Catalina
“Get up.”
I stirred from my cot on the floor, my back aching from lying on the hard surface all night. Washing my hands had made me feel better, but now it’d been a few days since I’d showered and that was uncomfortable. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to make my vision cooperate.
“I said, get up.” He came to the cage and stared down at me. Instead of holding a tray of food, he held handcuffs.
“What are you gonna do?” I leaned against the wall and watched the metal cuffs shift back and forth.
He tossed the cuffs on the ground. “Put these on.”
“Why?”
His gaze darkened in irritation.
He was obviously going to move me from the cage, so it was probably in my best interest to comply. But I would never be able to get the restraints off because they were solid metal. My only chance was to run. I grabbed them from the floor and secured them in front of my body.
He unlocked the door. “Let’s go.”
I pushed my back against the wall as I rose to my feet without using my hands. “Are you gonna let me use the bathroom? Because this is still going to be hard.”
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the cage. “No.”
“No?” If he wasn’t gonna let me use the restroom, then what was he going to do with me? Did he talk to Damien? Was he about to hand me over to my brother? Or did Damien say no, and now I was going to be executed?
Maybe this was the end.
Everyone died at some point, so I could be scared or brave. I chose to be brave. I went quiet and allowed him to guide me upstairs to the next level. It was an entryway that led to a much bigger staircase. There was a sitting room that seemed unused, and lots of paintings and sculptures.
Didn’t seem like his style at all.
He guided me into another room that connected to his garage, and he put me in the passenger seat of his truck.
Maybe he was going to hand me over. Didn’t make sense to execute me at another location, unless he’d already dug my grave and would shoot me once he threw me inside.
I felt anxiety and fear, but I forced myself to stay calm and not give in to my emotional response. Mind over matter. Courage over fear. Peace over despair.
The garage door opened, and he pulled out. He turned onto the street and drove away.
Not that it mattered, but I glanced at the street signs and memorized the address. Just in case I managed to escape and wanted to know where I could find him again to finish the job. The fact that he let me see where we were and where we were going meant only one thing.
He was going to kill me.
As we drove down the street in silence, I tried to think of a way to survive. I could throw myself at him, make him lose control of the wheel, and put us in a bad crash. With any luck, the collision would kill him, and I could get out of there.
But it could also kill me.
Too risky. I’d have to wait until we reached our destination.
He made a few more turns then approached the building where my apartment was located. It was ironic, to pass the place where he’d originally grabbed me, the place I called home.