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)
Letting out a shaky breath, I slip through the door and into the corridor, gently closing it behind me. I follow it along, walking around a bend and down a small flight of steps. The corridor is lit with old oil lanterns, and the further down I get, the more it feels like some kind of dungeon.
My stomach twists and clenches, and the further down I go, the harder it gets to continue. Chills sweep over my skin and my breath catches in my throat. The odd mix of fear and anticipation makes me want to throw up.
As I reach the bottom of the old stone stairs, I turn the corner into a darkened room and come to a screeching halt. Dalton, Sawyer, and Zade all stand around a man who’s been bound to a chair.
My eyes widen, and I hastily back up before they see me. “I want a fucking name,” Zade roars, the terrifying rumble of his tone making my knees shake—and not in a good way. Zade adjusts himself, taking a step toward the man, and at this new angle, I get a clear view of his face. Horror blasts through me as I recognize the doorman from the ball.
This is on me.
I knew they’d question him, but I never expected it would go this far. I’ve all but signed his death certificate, and if they don’t kill him, he’s gonna wish they had.
He doesn’t deserve this. He didn’t do anything wrong. He showed me kindness at the door of the ballroom, allowing me to walk through despite my name not showing up on his list. He didn’t have to do that, and hell, a part of me kind of wished he hadn’t. But should he be held and interrogated by the likes of Zade DeVil? Absolutely not.
The guy shakes his head, terror in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The bitch showed me her invitation. I figured her name was accidentally left off the list. I swear. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”
Zade scoffs and leans into him, bracing both hands on the armrests of the chair. His voice drops scarily low, and I swallow hard, only now just realizing what it means to be targeted by this man. Up until now, Zade has only been playing with me. “Someone approved you to let her in,” he says, his words like ice sliding down my spine. “Give me a name, and I might allow you to walk away from this.”
The doorman shakes as his gaze flicks between the boys, silently begging for some kind of relief. Realizing it isn’t coming, he starts to hyperventilate, panic gripping him. “I . . . I . . . I told you what I know.”
Zade tsks, pulling out a silver dagger. The designs on the hilt are so elegant, and yet so utterly terrifying. He presses the tip of his finger to the top of the blade and spins the dagger between his hands. The doorman’s gaze locks on the sleek blade as it catches in the haunting glow of the lanterns.
“Last chance,” Zade croons.
The doorman sobs and Zade shakes his head, almost looking disappointed. He lets out a heavy sigh and rears back with the blade. My eyes bug out of my head, fear paralyzing me. Zade’s hostage blanches before wetting his pants, and my heart breaks seeing what Zade has reduced this man to. “Okay,” he cries. “Just please . . . I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Zade taunts. “Give me a name.”
The doorman swallows hard, nervousness flashing in his eyes. It’s almost as though he’s more terrified of this other person than he is of Zade, but that couldn’t be right. Zade is the most callous and cruel monster this planet has to offer. The future leader of Empire.
The doorman lets out a sigh, his gaze dropping away from Zade’s in defeat. “Percival Winchester,” he finally says, his voice breaking as he chokes out the words. “He approached me before the ball and gave me a hundred bucks to let her through the door. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Zade sighs, looking at the man in pity, and then in one lightning-fast swipe, the blade slashes across his throat. Blood spurts like a waterfall, and as I try to scream, a strong hand clamps down over my mouth. My hands fly up, my nails digging deep into his skin as I desperately try to get away, but he pulls me in harder, my back slamming up against his wide chest. “Hush now, Pretty,” I hear Easton in my ear, slowly pulling me back into the darkness. “You don’t want anyone finding out you’re here.”
I can’t take my eyes off the blood, watching as it pours out over the doorman’s clothes, soaking them as he chokes and drowns in his own blood. My eyes are wide, terror gripping me like never before.