Captive Souls Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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Stone smiled wider and leaned over to type into the phone that had been lying beside his plate. I waited with bated breath.

He returned to his stance, leaning back, seemingly relaxed.

With a thundering heart, I went to where his dick strained against his slacks, unzipping it then reaching into his underwear to free it completely.

I circled the base of his cock, gripping it tightly, earning a groan of pleasure from Stone. I looked up at him purposefully. “It’s your power,” I whispered to him. “I couldn’t resist how fucking powerful you are. It makes me so hot.”

My other hand was busy between my legs, finding the small, sharp blade. But from the casual observer, it could have appeared that I was touching myself.

Stone was so deluded that he believed me. Leaning down as if to wrap my mouth around him, I moved rather clumsily instead, freeing the blade and embedding it right where Lukyan had instructed me a femoral artery lay. I stuck it down deep and hard then yanked along the skin to make a long incision in case I was off by a few centimeters. If I was, then I’d almost certainly be dead.

Blood sprayed at my chest in spurts, communicating that I had in fact hit the right place.

Stone let out a muffled yell before I was catapulted out of my haze and burst up, plastering my sweaty hand over his mouth.

His body spasmed as he tried to fight me. I gritted my teeth at his strength, panicking that I was no match for it. He would overpower me. Get my hand, yell for help, then I’d be done for. I forced myself to fight against him, even though it was a losing battle. But within seconds, his grip waned, and his body was no longer stronger than mine.

My eyes were locked onto his as our bodies ended up pressed together in a horrifically intimate position. I watched as his vehemence gave way to apprehension, to realization that he was dying. Then he turned desperate. Helpless. Afraid.

Unable to look away, my heart thumped as blood pooled around us, the intense spurting from his thigh slowing as his robust struggle became weak jerks against me.

My lungs filled with lead as I watched life creep out of his eyes, like water draining from a bathtub.

It was horrifying. Unnatural. I’d never forget it. Not until the day I died.

My heart pounded against my throat as I stayed in place, transfixed, my palm still pressed against the slack mouth of a corpse.

How long did I stay like that? Seconds? Minutes? Who could know? My heartbeat was no longer thundering; it had slowed to a low thump, but it still felt high in my chest, almost in my esophagus.

I stepped away from his body as it slumped off the chair and onto the ground with a loud thump. My eyes darted to the door Giovanni had been entering and exiting from. Would he have heard that and alerted some kind of alarm?

I decided that if that happened, I would not like to be caught in nothing but lingerie, so I quickly shuffled back into my skirt.

The process took seconds, but it felt like eons, the clock in the corner ticking in the now stifling silence.

My breathing came in heavy pants as I fastened my skirt.

I’d done it.

Killed Stone De Luca. Don of the Italian mob. I’d done it. Myself. Without help.

But it turned out that was the easy part.

I still had to figure out how to get out of there alive.

Twenty-Three

Piper

Iwas covered in blood.

I hadn’t considered how messy killing someone would be.

“White was a bad choice,” I muttered. Another thing I’d tell Elizabeth. Ensure your next ward is sent off in comfortable shoes and in shades of black when planning on killing someone.

I looked down at the lifeless man in front of me, blood everywhere, his flaccid cock hanging out of his pants like a sad worm.

I expected feelings of sickness to overwhelm me. After all, I’d just ended a life. A human life. No matter his sins, he was human. But I didn’t feel any of the regret or self-hatred I expected. Instead, I felt satisfied. He was gone from my life. This man who’d felt entitled to women, to control over bodies and lives, who had likely terrorized countless people, ruined lives. His reign of terror was over.

One in the sea of many wasn’t much, but it was one less. And I’d done that.

It felt good. Empowering.

That power didn’t last for long, though, a low pop of gunfire sounding in the hall. My gaze whipped toward the closed door.

Screwing up my face in disgust, I leaned down to search Stone’s body for a gun. Surely, this guy was wearing a shoulder holster. He was a mob boss, after all. But nothing.


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