Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Romero flinches when I pick up the small vase full of flowers on Tatum's table. I unleash all my fury into tossing that vase. It collides with the wall, sending glass and flowers everywhere, but it doesn't ease the ache in my chest. It doesn't make me less angry.
“I know you're upset, but Tatum doesn't need this. What if she wakes up and that's the first thing she sees?” His gaze swings to Tatum, who is still sleeping soundly the way she's been for the past two days. I know he's right, but at this point I don't give a fuck. I want to rip the entire room apart.
“That fucker is dead,” I grunt, my teeth clenched. “Him and every last one of his men. I won't rest till they're dead.”
“I already sent the video to have it analyzed in case we can pinpoint where it was recorded,” Romero says, his voice cold as steel.
That's great but it does nothing to help Bianca now. She needs our help now, not hours from now when Romero will inevitably get word there's no way of tracing the video's location. The thought of the inevitable outcome pains me, my heartbeat skyrocketing to a dangerous pace. I can only imagine how terrified all of this has made her, for herself, and the baby growing inside of her.
Our baby.
Jack made this personal, and now the only thing that will serve as proper payment is his dead body at my feet. I want blood. I need it. There's no hope of venting my rage.
Nothing is going to make this better. I step out of Tatum's room and into the visitor's suite beyond it, making sure to close the glass door behind me before kicking a chair across the otherwise peaceful space.
Rage swirls through me, and I clench my fists tightly. The overwhelming urge to destroy this room and the next sinks its claws into my mind. He tied her up and put tape over her mouth. He touched her, hurt her. Though the pain is enough to make my chest burn, I force myself to watch the video again. That's the least I can do for my little bird. She's suffering because of me—I can be strong and witness this again.
Seeing her lying helpless on a thin, filthy mattress sets off a screaming in my head. Bile rises up my throat, but I force myself to study her, to memorize every bit of what's been captured. She's in the same work clothes she wore after leaving the house yesterday, and they seem to be in one piece. No tears or anything like that. A promising sign—they haven't roughed her up.
There's no bruising on her legs, either, and thank God for that. No blood, no scratches. Jack must have convinced his men to keep their hands off her. I'm not stupid enough to think that will last forever, which only intensifies the screaming in my head until I can hardly hear myself think.
He goes in close on her face, the asshole, ensuring I get a good look as she starts to cry. There's a lump in my throat that threatens to choke me, but I continue watching, tracing the path of her tears as they cut down her cheeks, leaving mascara streaks behind—a face that's too red, and not from emotion. There's what looks like a handprint on her right cheek.
So they haven't left her entirely untouched. It's been one hour since the video was sent. I can only fathom what they could be doing to her now. My brain conjures up all kinds of thoughts and images that I can't stomach. Think, damn it. The most important thing is that I don't lose my cool. I cannot fracture right now. Forget what I suspect or fear. What do I know? I know it was Jack Moroni who made the video—he didn't bother trying to disguise his voice, but then why would he? This wasn't going to be a secret forever. Eventually, he planned to reach out to me, as there was no way he did all of this for nothing.
He's a stupid, heartless bastard who isn't stupid enough to take things too far. He'll menace her, make her cry, and rub it in my face, but knowing he was working with Amanda, it means he knows Bianca's pregnant. Which means he knows what's at stake. He hasn't confirmed that, but I can't imagine this being about anything else.
He thinks he's finally found my Achilles' heel; he's not wrong. That alone is what will keep my little bird safe, at least for now. He wouldn't risk her losing the baby, because it would mean losing much of his leverage. Knowing Jack, he wouldn't want a sick girl on his hands, either. Not that he'd care, but it would inconvenience him. At the end of the day, he's a businessman. He wouldn't want to risk an expense like that.