Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
My main focus was on what I had to do. Wells was the past and the day would come that I had to face him and get over that awkwardness but I had bigger issues right now. We all did. The threat had been laid down, and just because Maxon had been caught, Thatcher said it only meant they had something to hold the Carda back. Not stop them completely.
During our ride to the Hughes Farm, where I was told we would be going, Wilder sat beside me but continued to remain silent. Thatcher wasn’t much of a talker after he was done giving me the details. I glanced up at Wilder a few times, but he remained tense and detached. Once we drove through the arched entrance of Hughes Farm, my mouth fell open in awe. I’d thought the Shephards were rich, but this … this was insane.
The stables were three times the size of my dad’s house and as elaborate as the mansion up ahead. The SUV came to a stop, and the driver—who Thatcher had spoken to some on the ride over—opened his door and got out. He had blond hair, tattoos, and looked younger than me. He didn’t fit what I’d expected in this Mafia family thing.
Thatcher turned back to me. “I’ll go down with you,” he said.
“Am I allowed in the fucking underground?” Wilder asked in a tight voice. “Or am I supposed to hide from Presley?”
Thatcher shrugged, as if he didn’t care. “Gage is in Madison still. He was left there on purpose. Until you’re out of sight. As for going underground, it depends on if you can stay out of the room. Carda doesn’t need to know you’re there.”
“I can,” he clipped out.
“Then, let’s go,” Thatcher replied. “Boss is waiting.”
Wilder opened the door and climbed out, and then his eyes finally met mine. He held out his hand for me, and I quickly took it, thankful for any connection with him. I slid over and got down. Wilder’s hand squeezed mine before letting it go.
I wanted to go back to last night, but we couldn’t do that. We had to keep going, not reliving the same moment over and over. But if we could …
“This way,” Thatcher told me, and I fell into step behind him.
We walked to a door that looked like it led into a building. Once inside, the blond man walked over and pressed something, and the wall began to open.
“You first,” he said with a smirk.
Thatcher went inside, and I followed. There were stairs leading down. Wilder was close behind me. Having him there made this entrance into hell less terrifying. When they’d said underground, I hadn’t actually pictured walking into tunnels under the ground of a wealthy ranch.
A man stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was tall with wide shoulders, dark hair cut very short, tattoos, and a scowl on his face that made me pause. He was huge, and I wasn’t sure he wanted us down here.
“Huck,” Thatcher said as we reached the bottom.
“Levi’s in there with him,” the man he called Huck said. “Boss is handling an issue we are dealing with here at the moment. We are to start without him.”
He turned his attention to me and gave me an unimpressed glance before looking back at Wilder.
“She’s yours then,” Huck said. “Might make it easier with Gage in the future.”
Although Wilder didn’t clarify anything, I saw a hint of a smile tug on the corner of the giant’s mouth.
“Wilder, you come with me. Thatcher, third room on the left.”
Thatcher led the way, and I started to follow when Wilder’s hand wrapped around my wrist. I quickly turned to look at him, but he pulled me in and covered my mouth with his in a hard, possessive kiss. When he let me go, I felt lightheaded and blinked several times, trying to focus.
“Jesus,” I heard Thatcher grumble.
Wilder nodded his head at me, and I turned to continue following Thatcher down the tunnel, passing different rooms before we stopped.
He glanced back at me. “Ready?” he whispered.
I simply nodded. This was Hamilton. The sweet, nice underwear model. If I told myself that, then I wouldn’t be terrified. I could do this and get it over with. Thinking of him as something more, as someone who had watched me, controlled me, possibly sought me out to hire me in order to use me against Wilder—I couldn’t go there in my head.
Thatcher opened the door, and I followed him inside. However, my hand flew to my mouth, and I let out a shocked gasp at the sight of Hamilton—I mean, Maxon—tied up by his wrists, his toes barely grazing the ground beneath him.
His eyes swung to me, and a slow smile slid across his face.
“Oakley,” he said, as if seeing me had brightened his day.