Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“You traded Astrid for his remains, so don’t pretend they mean nothing to you.”
“They mean a lot to me—but she means more.” I felt the sting of betrayal in my throat, but I knew how my brother would feel about it. I could picture him beside me in the strip club, a cigar in his mouth with a stupid grin on his face. I’m already dead, Theo. Fuck his wife—and fuck her good.
Bolton did his best not to react to that, but the anger was there, far in the distance and growing. “She’s my wife. Step aside, and I’ll give you what you want—right now.”
If that wasn’t a lie, that meant my brother was in one of the cars, probably a pile of bones now. Mostly decomposed but still intact in some places. “She’s not your wife anymore, Bolton.”
He stared, his anger growing like an approaching tornado. It swelled in size as it picked up speed and debris. He already wanted me dead, but I saw the execution in his eyes. He took a step forward. “She’s. My. Wife.”
I saw the side of Bolton that Astrid had. The side that she had been subjected to, too powerful to escape or fight. “She was your wife, Bolton. Until you decided to hurt her.” It was the most I could say. If anything further came out, I would lunge at him with my knife aimed at his neck.
“Let her go—”
“She’s not a prisoner.” I was insulted by the statement, that he automatically compared us as if we were the same. “She’s free to come and go as she pleases. She’s free to take you back if that’s what she wishes. But she’s made it very clear she’s exactly where she wants to be—and with the man she wants.”
Bolton struggled to retain his indifference, to hide the tremble of rage that shook his foundation. He didn’t blink. Didn’t shift his gaze elsewhere. He looked at me like I was a target at the shooting range. “She’s not worth dying for, Theo.”
If he managed to get her back, the past would repeat itself. He would confess his remorse for the shit he’d done, but he would just repeat those actions over and over. Cheaters cheated. Beaters beat. “I disagree, Bolton.”
He cocked his head as if I’d really slighted him. “Keep this up, and you’re going to end up in an oil drum—with four other oil drums around you.”
My eyes narrowed at the threat, not following his words but not wanting to admit any misunderstanding. “She doesn’t want you, Bolton. Move on with your life.”
“Let me talk to her—”
“If she wants to call you, she’ll call. She hasn’t, so get the message.”
He took another step toward me. “I’m not the only one who wants you dead. You’re about to go to war on two fronts. You only march to the front lines for a woman if you love her. I know you don’t because you wouldn’t have given her up in the first place if that were the case.”
I knew exactly what he was doing—fishing.
He waited, expecting me to say something to that.
I didn’t. “Are we done here?”
The anger flashed in his eyes again. “Walk away, and his bones go into the incinerator.”
The depth of my struggle was invisible on my face but so potent on my heart it left a scar. Killian was more than my brother, more than my twin. He was the last person I’d been related to. To turn my back on him went against every instinct I had, every ounce of loyalty I felt for the people I cared about.
But the only thing standing between Bolton and Astrid’s demise was me.
Nothing else.
If I stepped aside, he might kill her. “He’d understand.”
When Bolton realized my decision was final, the blood lust burned like a forest fire. No amount of leverage over me would ever get her back, not while I continued to draw breath. He was a smart man, so he’d tried to go around me rather than through me, but that plan had backfired in his face.
Now, he had no other choice but to go through me.
“May the best man win, Bolton.” There was no longer a choice for either of us. One of us had to die. Would it be a bomb in broad daylight? Would it be a knife to the throat in the middle of the night?
We were about to find out.
It was almost five in the morning when I got home. The sky was tinted blue because of the approaching sun, far over the horizon, inching slowly toward dawn. My butler was dead asleep and didn’t greet me. Probably got tired of waiting for me around midnight.
I headed upstairs and walked into my bedroom, the fatigue like weights behind my eyes. I pulled my shirt over my head as I moved through the sitting room, leaving the t-shirt on the back of the couch to be magically picked up later.