Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Sickness churns as I worry that Declan won’t believe me.
I didn’t do anything. I didn’t, did I? If I did, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.
Heaving in air, I try to calm myself but I can’t. Instead all I can hear is the cage dropping into the water and my screams.
I’m blinded by it all and I act without thinking.
Rushing to put clothes on top of the money in the bag, I’ve never acted so fast in my life. All the while tears stream down my face and the vision in front of me is Declan, as I’m lowered into the water and left there.
They’ll never believe me. Even if he loves me, they’ll never trust me. They’ll never let me leave. I scribble a note I don’t know is even legible. I’m sorry.
I’m out of breath and can barely see straight when I get to the foyer. It’s silent when I open the door to Declan’s wing. My heart races as I listen for Nate’s voice.
No one’s there and in a rush of adrenaline, I rush to the front doors and input the code. I hold my breath until they unlock and pull open so very easily. With the heavy door ajar, I’m met with a biting cold and a reminder I need to hurry.
DECLAN
The Club once felt like my hunting ground. Safe, controlled and secured. I could do whatever I’d like and rule over every soul who entered this place.
But now as I rewind the footage once again, with my tired eyes focused on the screen filled with the image of Braelynn, it feels like a prison.
One of my own making.
There has to be something I missed. I only have an hour, maybe two before the feds will be here. Or so the tip said. I wanted it done here. Not with Braelynn watching.
They’ll raid. I’ll be present and be picked up for questioning. Shortly after, I’ll be hit with a subpoena for a deposition. It’s all been done before and I couldn’t care less. All I care about is what’s on these fucking tapes. Whispers in the back of my mind warn me that it’s all there.
There’s a knock on the door a second after I hit play, and I call out for them to go away. “I’m not here. Leave.”
I’m left with the sound of retreating footsteps and in the corner of my eye, the security cameras capture the bar nearly packed, the stage curtains closed but ready to open as the night descends. It’s all patrons. There’s no one I’m concerned about in this whole damn place right now.
There’s no break in this life. No moment of reprieve. Even as I beg the footage to show me something, anything at all, I’m not given a moment for it all to just stop.
There were only so many hours she was left alone with the computer. I know from history she didn’t email anything or save information to portable storage.
There were only a handful of details given to the feds. A few lines that she must’ve memorized. No one else touched that computer. In the security footage, she doesn’t save data onto a USB. But she also doesn’t take any notes. A note that someone else could find or a note she was paid to make.
There’s no way around it. There was incriminating evidence in drug sales on the spreadsheets and she remembered them because they didn’t make sense, fed the information to someone and that’s the only possible explanation.
The numbers don’t exist in reality. They’re fake. Planted there just for her.
She taps away on the screen in the video, occasionally looking across the office to my empty chair. I swear she smiles in fondness and I have to rewind the footage.
I swear she loves me even here. It makes no sense.
How could she want me like she does here, while planning on turning over evidence? Frustration gets the best of me and I throw the fucking remote across the room, smashing it into the drywall. The damage is minimal and I couldn’t care less.
I don’t fucking know what happened, but I believe her.
There has to be a reason other than Braelynn handing over the information. She would have had to memorize it since she didn’t leave the office with it. Exact numbers. It’s not difficult, but it doesn’t seem like Braelynn.
The video plays and I watch as the door opens and my Braelynn straightens her posture, peering up at me and waiting for an order. I watch as I grasp her chin, lower my hand to her throat and kiss her. No, I fucking devour her and she leans into my touch. Eager and wanting. The laptop falls to the floor and she doesn’t stop it. She doesn’t care about it.
My chest tightens with an uncomfortable ache.