Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Were they shining down on us?
Watching?
Were old family members cheering us on?
What about the Petrov Family I’d never met, never knew, other than those brief years with my mom and dad?
Was I like them?
Was I brave like them? Strong?
A flash of light flickered, followed by another until we were at the end of the dark hallway, more lights flickered to the right. Santino and I walked in silence toward it. Suddenly it opened up into a bigger room with an iron door to the right and another hallway to the left.
I knew that door. I knew that hallway.
That led to the tower where they had kept Pace and me.
Santino stopped walking and stared at the door. “Stay here.”
“But—”
“Just… stay.” He handed me his gun and walked into the room; the door clicked shut behind him. There was nothing but silence for a while, and then I heard voices.
“Hurry, Santino, they’re coming!”
The door opened the next instant. Santino was completely shirtless, and there was something—someone he was cradling in his hands.
His shirt covered the first part of the face and torso, another shirt and ripped blanket wrapped up the rest.
“Pace.” I choked out the name.
Santino nodded slowly. “No warrior left behind.”
Voices intensified until several people in tactical gear appeared in front of us. They stopped, and my breath stalled in my lungs. Then, one of them took off his night vision goggles. Andrei. Shocked, I realized in the hazy darkness it was my brother and the bosses out to save us.
I held my head high next to Santino and said nothing as I walked by his side. He was limping, and I looked half-dead.
But every single one of the at least forty men and women in attendance at that horrible place parted for us all the way down the long hallway to the exit as we walked.
Me, side-by-side with Santino and Pace, in Santino’s arms.
“Sorry I’m late, Pace,” Santino whispered. “Let’s get you home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“When you understand the mechanics of stress and master the techniques to manipulate someone’s fears and dreams, you will be powerful.” – Gregory Hartley
Katya
The funeral was supposed to be beautiful, according to everyone. It wasn’t going to be held at this enormous church in Chicago. It wasn’t even held in a church. It was held in a field.
I didn’t ask why.
But I was told it was special.
And I was told to wear white.
I put on a white dress Alice had given me. It was a simple strapped satin dress that fell to my ankles. I still had a few bruises and needed to go to regular checkups after getting semi-strangled, but everything checked out. Santino could at least walk without limping, but he was forced to take a time out from action for the next six weeks to heal.
He was in the room next to mine, putting on his suit.
Even though we were technically married, both of us were so exhausted we’d just come home and lay down in our beds before even showering. I woke up and crawled into his bed, then finally showered and went back to mine, all clean. He woke up and showered, then crawled into mine.
For two nights, we hadn’t been separated except to change clothes or shower really quick.
A knock sounded at my door.
Santino wouldn’t knock; he’d just come right in. Frowning, I walked over and cracked it open.
“Sergio?” I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
His smile was sad. “Well, we did almost lose you two on top of nearly dying ourselves weeks before that, but I think things should calm down for a day or two.” He winked.
“Very funny.”
“Any more pain in your neck?” He started examining me with one hand. “Sorry, old habits.”
“I’m fine.” I nodded. “I truly am.”
“Good.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a black box. His hands were shaking, which was weird for someone so sure of himself, someone who recorded kills on his own body by way of tally marks. “I have something I want you to wear to the funeral. And then I want you to keep it if you can.”
The lid creaked open, and staring back at me were gorgeous pearls that had to be worth a fortune. They were beautiful, perfect even.
I was afraid to touch them. “Whose are these?”
“Were,” he corrected. “They belonged to… well, technically, I guess she would be your half-sister, Andi.”
My head jerked up. “My half-sister?”
“She looked a lot like you, same bright-colored hair, same fierceness. I’m sure she was with you the entire time you were imprisoned; even if you didn’t know it, she was with you, Katya.” He reached for the strand. “May I?”
Tears were already ruining my makeup. “Will you tell me about her one day?”
“It would be an honor,” he rasped, putting the case down on the table next to the door and wrapping the pearls twice around my neck before fastening them.