Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Chapter 39
Rocklin
My head hits the warm leather of the back seat, and I fly upward, darting for the door, but it’s slammed in my face. I scream, pounding on the glass but then whip around when the door opposite this one is yanked open and four guards file into the back seat, masks over their heads, glasses hiding their eyes.
Throwing myself against the seat, I’m careful not to touch the spot where my weapon hides, so as not to draw attention to it. My father would never disarm me, no matter if he is the very reason I’m sitting in the back of my very own town car right now, so I know it’s still in place, just in case.
Instinctively, my eyes fly to the front of the town car, where Sai should sit, where in this exact moment, his eyes would snap up to meet mine, knowing I was looking, awaiting or watching for his brief second of reassurance. But it’s Warren who sits behind the wheel, and my heart clenches at the sight as a bitter sense of betrayal forms in my throat. I swallow beyond the rising acid, eyes flicking from one dead man to the next.
“Where the hell are we going? What’s he going to do with Bastian?” Not expecting anyone to answer, and they don’t, but rage is building inside me at the thought of him back at the manor alone at the mercy of my father, who knows no such word.
Bastian took my father against his will, attacked him and his men and made him look weak, chained him in his basement and my father didn’t even escape the situation. That’s another slap at his ego, and he’ll want vengeance.
He’ll want his life.
Desperate, I throw my shoulder into the man on my left, headbutting the one on my right and kick my leg out, driving my heel against the throat of the man sitting across from me. The person next to him makes a grab for me, his hand wrapping around my throat, but then the person bleeding from the spike of my pump rears back and slams the butt of his gun into the man’s chin.
The two at my sides go stiff, raising their weapons, but before they have a chance to put their fingers near the trigger, the bleeding man sends a bullet through both of their chests.
I sit back wide-eyed as a door is flung open, the driver realizing it a second later and beginning to swerve as the masked bleeding man tosses the guard from my right out, looking up at me as if to say are you going to give me a hand, or at least it’s what I imagine he’s saying even though I can’t see his eyes or face. I quickly jump forward to the seat where the unconscious guard is slumped over, allowing him the space he needs to toss the guard from the left out just as the car comes to a screeching halt.
The bloody guard hops out and then there’s another pop of a gunshot, followed by a thud as he removes the driver’s dead body from the front seat. The squeal of tires from an approaching vehicle screech, clouds of dirt surrounding us as they skid to a stop behind us.
I grab the gun off the floorboard, pointing it out the door. My finger brushes the trigger right as Damiano comes into view. His eyes fly wide, and he jerks back, but I tip the barrel in the last second and the bullet only breaks through the edge of his jacket.
“Oh my god!” I scream, scooting to the edge, but I shuffle back when he begins to crawl in, Bronx and Delta right behind them, taking the seats in front of me, all three dressed from head to foot in black tactical gear.
All heads whip toward the opposite door when it’s yanked open, but then the masked man simply pulls the unconscious one from beside me and tosses him to the side of the road before closing the door and jumping into the driver’s seat.
Kenex and Kylo pull up in their own car, giving a small nod and then my eyes lift to meet the man in the driver’s seat, watching as he yanks his mask off his head and glasses from his eyes.
Hayze winks at me and then hits the gas, sending us speeding down the road, but we’re continuing in the direction the car was originally headed.
I dart forward, gripping the privacy screen, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing? We have to go back.”
“Boss’s orders, babe.”
“I am the fucking boss right now. Turn the car around, Hayze!”
“Can’t do it.”
The click of a gun being cocked sounds, and then a steel barrel is pressed to the underside of his neck. Bronx leans forward, whispering in his ear. “Turn around, terror, before I paint the windshield the prettiest shade of red.”