Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he spits, running his hand over his face, knowing damn well what that means. After all, we’ve been the ones to leave the exact same message a million times before. “Someone’s put a hit out on her head.”
I nod, glancing at the image as he hands it back to me. Empire is full of old traditions and rituals, but on top of that, they believe in a fair fight. Whoever broke into her apartment and left this message right under our fucking noses, they were leaving a warning. Oakley Quinn is going to die.
“You know who left it?” he asks.
Sawyer shakes his head, striding toward us. “No fucking idea. That’s why we brought her here. You know how these things work—”
“Twenty-four hours,” Dalton states, knowing it all too well. When you leave a warning, you follow through and make it quick. It’s a sick game really. The majority of people these warnings are left for have no fucking clue what it means. “You know what this means, right? One of The Circle members gave up her name. They betrayed you.”
I nod, remembering the second I saw the calling card in Oakley’s apartment and coming to the same conclusion. “And the only reason someone would want her name is because they want to take her out and challenge me for leadership.”
“It’ll never work,” Cross says. “You’re too strong, and you’re the rightful heir. The blood of Empire runs through your veins. They can try all they want, but they can’t take Empire. It’ll never happen.”
“No,” I agree, “But they’ll fucking die trying, even if it means putting a bullet between my eyes in the process.”
Dalton starts to pace. “So what do we do?”
“For now, all we can do is wait,” I tell him, letting him in on the plan. “Assuming she got the calling card some time in the early hours of Saturday morning and it’s now Sunday night, we have to make our move now. So, you’re gonna take your ass back into that cell and put on the fucking show of a lifetime. Make her believe you’re on her side. Sawyer’s going to stay here in case you need anything while Cross and I head back to the apartment block to take this fucker out.”
Dalton nods, knowing there’s no other choice, and as if making a point, Cross strides across the room and picks up his gun off my pool table before checking over his silencer. Tonight we plan on making this game a quick one. No lingering. We’ll be in and out, and when this hitman arrives expecting to find Oakley hidden away in her apartment, it’s me he’ll find, my gun pressed right up against his temple.
He’ll never see it coming.
Cross checks his bullets, though he won’t be needing them. I fully intend to take out this hitman myself. Tonight, this is personal. An attempt on Oakley’s life is a direct attack against me, and I don’t take this shit lightly. When I rise to power in forty moons, everybody will know what I stand for. They will fear me, but unlike my father, they will respect me.
I join Cross at the pool table, collecting everything I need and slipping my dagger into position on my belt, preparing myself to take this motherfucker’s life as effortlessly as though I was selecting what to have for dinner.
The sun disappeared below the horizon an hour ago and we’re quickly running out of time. This hitman won’t show up until late in the night, but I fully intend to be there, ready and waiting for when he finally arrives. What can I say? I’m a calculated motherfucker. I don’t take a single move without knowing what will come from it. Which is exactly how I knew damn well that allowing Dalton to get close to Oakley was going to be a mistake, but it’s not my mistake to learn from. He understood the consequences and still insisted, and because of that, he’s going to get hurt.
Catching movement across my penthouse, I glance up from the pool table to see both Dalton and Sawyer in the kitchen. Dalton holds a glass of water, slowly sipping, while Sawyer mutters something to him, probably reminding him to keep his head up. Not a moment later, Dalton lets out a heavy sigh and puts his glass down, making his way back to the cell with Sawyer hot on his heels to chain him back up and make sure the door locks securely behind him. The tension between them is long gone.
Venom slithers over my hand on the pool table, bringing my attention back to what I was doing, and with Cross ready to go, we don’t prolong this another second. He scoops Venom off the table and the snake weaves through his fingers, settling comfortably in his hand.