Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I guess not,” I say, and with that, Easton hits the gas, and we sail back through the city toward the DeVil Hotel.
The moment we return to the hotel and walk into Zade’s penthouse, Sawyer grips Cara’s elbow and leads her right through to the fucked-up little cell the guys kept me in the first time they decided to kidnap me. My heart aches as I watch him have to push his sister through the door, but I don’t miss the way he discreetly slips her Kindle through with her. I can only imagine the bullshit going through his mind. His father first and now his twin sister.
Zade was right; Sawyer’s family doesn’t know what’s good for them.
Cara screams for forgiveness, but the sound cuts off a second later as the door seals shut, and with that, Sawyer turns back to face us and lets out a heavy breath. “I need a fucking drink.”
Chapter 23
ZADE
Oakley sleeps soundly in my arms, her tight body pressed right up against mine, and it’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I fucking hate having her in my bed because every damn night it gets harder to resist her, especially when she’s whispering my name in her sleep. It’s starting to fuck with my head, and I can’t allow that to happen.
There are only nineteen days left. I need to hold it together. The boys have all fallen victim to her charm, and I won’t lie, I understand why. I’d do anything just to get a taste. But this right here is as far as it’ll ever go.
Oakley fucking Quinn is going to be the death of me.
She mumbles something in her sleep, and I pull away from her before slipping out of bed. I stare down at this little she-devil who insists on making my life a living hell, and I can’t help but hate myself for what I have to do to her. Keeping her at arm’s length is fucking killing me.
Knowing Cross is bound to sneak in here at some point during the night and will stay until I return, I grab my things and make my way out of my room. I pass Sawyer in the living room, sitting in the same spot he’s been since we arrived home—his elbows braced against his knees, staring toward the hidden door of my cell, feeling sick to his stomach over what his sister has done.
“You good, man?” I murmur, crossing the penthouse toward the elevator.
Sawyer just grunts, not wanting to look up at me, and I get it. If Sawyer had his way, he would have given Cara a slap on the wrist and sent her on her way. He’s protective of her, and in his eyes, she can do no wrong. With his father on the chopping block, Sawyer has an overwhelming need to step up and be the man of the family—the one his father could never quite be, and I can’t help but wonder how much weight is coming down on his shoulders.
He wants to blame me, but at the end of the day, I’m not the one who betrayed Empire. With the tension already riding high between us, I don’t know how well we’ll come through the other side. But there’s no doubt in my mind, Cara Thorne needs to be held accountable for her actions. Hell, I understand she had a gun to the back of her head at first. She was a puppet with her strings pulled, and considering her choices, I don’t blame her for giving up Oakley’s location. But what about the second time? The third or fourth?
Cara Thorne betrayed me as her future leader, and I won’t allow that to slide.
Knowing Sawyer is going to sit out here all night, I push the button for the elevator without another word. It arrives immediately, the doors sliding back and welcoming me in. I arrive in my private garage barely a moment later and scoop up the keys for my black Bugatti.
The engine roars to life as I fly out onto the city streets of Faders Bay. Driving out through the suburbs and through the surrounding gated communities of the rich and famous, I pull up outside the Scott residence.
I haven’t been here since I was a kid, and there’s good reason for that—Hartley Scott is a fucking twat. If he could remove a few of his ribs to suck his own dick, he would.
Since the moment his name came flying out of Cara’s mouth, I knew I would end up here. I can’t let this slide, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Hartley Scott is a coward. He’s always been bigger than his boots, wanting to be the guy in charge but not having the backbone to follow through. Someone else is definitely pulling his strings, and I want to know who.