Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Quite honestly, I was taken by surprise when he, his soldiers, and those two Cartel brothers arrived at the box where I sat with the president of the charity. He came to pour salt into the wound, Cristiano. My anger got the better of me. I told him in no uncertain terms that one day, I would kill him.”
“This lasted seven minutes?” The time was stamped on the photos.
“How dare you!”
“Look around you, Uncle. I was betrayed tonight. Again.”
“And you think it was me? I didn’t even fucking know where you were!” he pauses, glances around then lowers his voice. “Have you thought of Alec? Have you wondered how he managed to survive considering they made sure no one else did? The rest were killed execution style. No room for error when you have a fucking bullet in your head. Have you considered maybe it was him?”
“I consider everything,” I say, somehow calm. “I have to. What else were you talking to Rinaldi about at the opera? Seven minutes is a long fucking time.”
“I already told you. And if you doubt that I was as impacted by the murders of your family, then you’re having a brain hemorrhage.” He leans in close, pokes his finger against my chest. “Remember who saved your fucking life.”
“Yeah, I remember. Dante.”
“No, not Dante. He found you. I’m the one who made sure you were kept safe and protected while you couldn’t defend yourself. I made sure you were taken care of, made sure you were out of sight until you were strong enough to stand on your own, to take back what was stolen from you and to avenge your family. You think Dante didn’t want to go after them? You think I didn’t want revenge? I protected him too. Saved his life too when he’d have thrown it away going after those fuckers. I knew all along we needed to wait for you. We couldn’t take that from you, and that’s the truth of it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything but hate for the family who killed my family.”
I look beyond him to the waves of the ocean. I scrub my face, take a deep breath. It makes sense what he’s saying.
The tattoo I scribbled badly on my arm throbs. My uncle’s name. But if I look at him now, if I recall how he looked when he told me about last night, he was as surprised as I. And he’s my own blood. My father’s brother.
“Look, it’s been a stressful few days. Scarlett’s missing. I can guess who has her. You’re under a lot of pressure. And I haven’t helped when it comes to her. I know that. But believe me, Cristiano, I have no ulterior motive. You’re the closest thing I have to a son. I’d never betray you.”
I nod. It’s all I can do. Right now, I have to get Scarlett back. That’s my first priority. All this I’ll process later.
“Let’s go,” I say.
We walk in silence the rest of the way to the chopper and climb inside. The pilot lifts off the ground as soon as we’re inside and I think about the last time we were in the chopper heading to my wedding.
How things change in a matter of hours. Minutes. Seconds.
How life turns upside down and inside out, spitting out what’s left of us after it’s chewed up everything that matters.
2
Scarlett
Murmurs and quiet whimpers are the sounds I hear. The smell is dank, like sweat and something else, something rotten. When I’m jostled violently, those whimpers swell to a joint scream followed a few moments later by the sounds of someone retching.
I blink. Turn my head. My neck is sore, my shoulders, back and arms aching. I groan, try to bring my hand to my face but my wrists are bound behind my back. As my eyes open and the room comes into focus, I remember why.
I remember Marcus. Remember my uncle.
And Marcus killing my uncle.
I move backward through time and memory, remembering farther back to the room at that house. My bath. Cutting my foot on the shards of glass from the bottle Cristiano destroyed.
Our wedding night.
Cristiano accusing me of being a whore on our wedding night.
Something inside me twists but I don’t linger because there’s another one of those swells and panic grips me. I struggle to sit up just as we crash down and water sprays the windows, splashing through the one where the glass is missing. We’re on a boat. A stinking, old, decrepit boat.
The women around me scream as I take it all in.
The stench. It almost makes my nostrils burn. Dirty mattresses line the floor, two or three women taking up each one. I look at their faces. Some can’t be older than fifteen. Sixteen. I’m not sure who looks more terrified, though.