Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Their rotors vanished behind the battlements and appeared on the runway outside the open drawbridge.
My weakness faded beneath the final surge of strength.
I stood taller as the largest helicopter hovered a metre off the ground. The poor hedges wobbled and shook, evergreen leaves blasting off their stems. The guards clamped their hands over their ears, and all of us rocked backward on our heels as the pressure from the engines buffeted.
The side door slid open.
A man jumped out, followed by four others.
A man with short dark hair, a sharp widow’s peak, and fucking murder in his pale green eyes.
He’s not dead then.
A rush of relief filled me.
Was his son—my nephew—still alive?
I stepped toward him in thanks.
I paused, remembering the betrayal from my past.
I’d been a boy, and he’d abandoned me.
But as a man, I’d be the reason he almost lost everything.
I had so much to apologise for, and despite what’d happened last time we talked, he’d come. He was here. He’d help finish this.
Sucking in a deep breath, I balled my hands and—
Our gazes met.
Instead of the confusing recipe of thankfulness and guilt I felt, he looked like he fucking despised me.
No sign of forgiveness. No flicker of commiseration.
Just hate.
I staggered backward as he stalked faster and faster toward me. Raising his pistol, he pointed it directly at my heart. “On your knees, Onn Ree. Now.”
“You’ve disappointed me, Onn Ree. Time to pay.” I shook my head as our father overlaid Q. Heavier set, receding hair-line, but the same merciless eyes. “Hit her, boy, or I’ll hit you.”
“On your knees! Je vais te tuer putain!” (I’m going to fucking kill you!) Q snarled.
I snapped.
I well and truly fucking snapped.
The way he said my name.
The French accent.
The last reminder of who I was and what I’d done back in that château he called home.
No.
Fucking hell no.
Grabbing Victor’s bound wrists, I hoisted up his miserable weight and ran as fast as I could toward the fortress, dragging him beside me.
Victor groaned and cursed, mumbling behind his gag. Blood dripped from his cut ankles, his shot shoulder, and his leg as I tried to outrun my brother.
The castle glowed far too bright in welcome. A few more jewels appeared from the rubble, stepping toward us, drawn from their hiding places thanks to Q’s loud arrival.
Their gazes locked on Victor bouncing and moaning as I hauled him toward them.
His death belonged to Peter.
I’d promised Paavak the final blow that day in the kitchens when we somehow became friends.
I scanned the gathering jewels for him and Ily.
They’d be together.
They’ll come.
I ran faster, lumbering, swaying.
White spots blinded my eyesight as my heart thudded with exhaustion.
Q gave chase.
The hair on the back of my neck rose as he hunted.
I tried to wring out the rest of my power. I lurched forward—
Q kicked the back of my legs, sending me careening onto my face.
I tried to stop my fall, but my arms were done. My bones were on fire. My muscles utterly useless. Blood gushed from my nose as I ploughed up the grass with my chin. Gasping, I rolled onto my side, only for Q to kick me in the ribs. The same cracked ribs that’d only just healed.
I bellowed as sickness splashed sour and tangy on my tongue.
Consciousness threatened to snuff out.
Victor squirmed away, managing to tongue the sock-gag out of his mouth. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” He sobbed, sounding exactly like all the tortured jewels he’d maimed. “He cut me. He’s going to kill me. He’s deranged!”
I had no strength to fight back as Q grabbed my hair, yanked me onto my knees, and pressed the gun against my forehead. Ignoring Victor, he hissed, “You put my son in danger. You put my life in danger. You put my wife’s life in danger.” Grinding the muzzle of his pistol against my skin, he snarled, “You’re no kin of mine. You’re him. You’re exactly like our father, just as I suspected. And I’m going to do to you what I did to him.”
Victor simpered and kept squirming away. “Kill him. Please. He’s hurt so many. He’s a monster!”
I opened my mouth to tell Q his greatest enemy was right there. Bleeding and broken but still far too cunning.
But Q pulled back, fisted the gun with both hands, and hovered his fingers over the trigger. “Goodbye, broth—”
“Wait!” Ben and Stewart slammed to a stop in front of me. “Don’t!”
“Get out of the motherfucking way!” Q roared.
“I was the one who called you,” Stewart spat. “You’re here because of us. You’re walking in at the end of this war because of him.” Pointing at me on the ground, he added, “He helped us. He almost died to save the jewels. Can’t you see that? Open your damn eyes!”
Ben flung his arms at the castle. Something crashed inside, chewed apart by hungry flames. “This happened because we fought together.” Pointing at my golden collar and cuffs, he said, “He’s been a prisoner for months. He’s been tortured for months. By him.” He pointed at Victor. Marching toward the true monster, he kicked Victor’s shot shoulder and stomped on his lower back.