Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
"Who are you?"
"Constantine Attias."
The name fits him, but it means nothing to me. I've never heard it before this moment. If he's in charge around here, no one has ever mentioned him. "Do you work for Victor?"
Fury flows like molten rock through his eyes. "Carmona is dead, Aurora."
I sit upright, the thin blanket falling from around me. "He's dead?" If it's a mortal sin to rejoice in the death of another, I'll gladly skip to hell. "Someone killed him?"
"No, not someone. Me."
I meet his gaze again, shocked and completely unsurprised at the same time. Of course this man is capable of killing. I don't think Victor Carmona is the first he's sent to the afterlife. But I hesitate, nonetheless, precariously picking my way through a situation as unfamiliar and potentially dangerous as every single moment of the last endless months.
"Why?"
Constantine doesn't answer for so long that I'm convinced he isn't going to answer at all, and then he shrugs. "He hurt several people who matter to me."
"Oh." I lick my lips again, thinking. "Are they okay?"
An amused smile turns Constantine from wicked prince to devastatingly handsome. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that, starlight?"
"He didn't hurt me," I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. Not physically, anyway. He locked me in a room for months and threatened to kill everyone I love. I haven't spoken to anyone except him or Tao in weeks. I don't know if anyone is looking for me or if they think I'm dead.
I don't say any of that part out loud, but I think Constantine understands it anyway. His smile slips, anger bleeding into his expression again.
"We need to go, princess," he says, his rumbling voice soft.
"Go?"
I've never wanted to go more in my life. Anywhere that isn't this musty, dusty, dirty room. But…am I walking from one prison into another?
Never, a little voice whispers. Go with him. He'll protect you with his life.
"We can't stay here, starlight. There are bodies all over this house and I can't protect you and shoot my way out of here if any more of these motherfuckers show up." He pushes himself to his feet, rising like a big, graceful cat, and extends a hand in my direction. "Let's go home."
Home. God, I want to go home so badly.
"My dad," I blurt, my gaze flying to his. "I want to see my dad."
He grimaces. "Last I heard, he was in D.C., starlight. Ryker Montgomery sent your dad to meet someone he knows at the CIA."
"I…" I press my fingers to my forehead. "I want to go home."
"I'm going to take you to the sheriff."
"No." I rapidly shake my head, fear pinging through me. Dillon Armstrong has always been nice to me…but there's a reason I'm here instead of back home. Someone betrayed my father. Was it Millie, his oldest friend? Or did I just dream that?
I don't know. Some days, I think I remember the night they brought me here. Other days, I'm convinced the little flashes I see are simply the remnants of one of the nightmares that plague me. They're disjointed and hazy. A hanger. A broken door. Millie Audley. A needle jabbing into my arm.
If she is the reason I'm here, I don't think she's the only one involved. My dad agreed to pay the ransom. They even had a drop, but when Victor's guy got there to get the money, it was gone. Someone took it. He questioned me relentlessly about the people in my dad's life, those he'd turn to for help with this.
As far as I'm concerned, Sheriff Armstrong is at the top of that list. My dad trusts him implicitly. I don't think Dillon would steal the ransom money instead of delivering it…but people I'd normally turn to for help are the last people I can trust right now.
I can't even trust my own mind.
It's ironic, really. This man may be dangerous—he just admitted to killing everyone in the house—but he may be the only one I'm safe with at the moment. I stare at his hand for a brief moment, not entirely convinced it's simply because he's not my dad's friend, either. It's him. He's…different. Special.
He's yours, the same little voice that's convinced he'd risk his life to protect me whispers.
"You don't want to go to the sheriff?"
I shake my head again. "Not until I see my dad. It might not be safe."
Constantine cocks his head to the side, silently demanding an explanation.
"I think…I think someone betrayed my dad," I whisper, glancing down at the floor. "I think someone was with them the night I was kidnapped. Someone let them into the house." I swallow hard, trembling. "S-someone stole the ransom money my dad paid to get me back."
"Jesus H. Christ. You're sure?"
"About the ransom money. The rest isn't so clear." I shake my head, frustrated. "They drugged me a lot in the beginning. I don't know what's real and what I dreamed."