Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
She doesn’t hesitate at the door, reaching for the knob the second she’s within reach.
Whimpers and begging come from the man, and I have no doubt he thinks she’ll eventually help him. I’m guessing he’s never been more wrong.
Chapter 23
Alani
The only reason I hesitate in picking up the knife is because of the blood coating it.
Donavan didn’t seem to have an issue with the man’s blood coating his own skin, but I’m the type of person who wears disposable gloves while handling raw meat. The idea of the bacteria on it getting on my skin makes my stomach turn for some reason.
A quick look around the empty room tells me that there are no gloves to be had. Honestly, if I’m going to do any of the things my head is urging me to do, then I really need to get over the sense of ickiness caused by the thought of his blood touching me.
“Please,” he begs. “If you let me go, I’ll let Raul know and he’ll never go after you again.”
I pick up the knife, my rage barely controlled.
“You think he’ll listen?” I ask, circling around him and standing at his back so he can’t see me.
He does his best to turn his head, but the movement makes the wound on his shoulder start to bleed again.
“You’ll be safe,” he promises, even though we both know that’s not his promise to make.
“Okay,” I say, relishing in the whimper of relief that escapes his mouth. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” he vows. “I’ll do anything.”
“I want you to take away all the times Raul Cortez and his men raped my sister.”
A sob bubbles from his mouth.
I twist the tip of the knife into a spot on his back that Donavan has cut, watching as blood blooms with the minor penetration.
“Can you do that for me?”
His shoulders shake, his head held down. “You know I can’t.”
“Well,” I say, pausing for dramatics but also to take a deep breath.
This should be harder than it feels to hurt someone, but it seems to come easy for me, probably because it was so easy for me to put myself in danger all those times.
“Those are my terms.”
He screams when I slice at his skin, and the noise makes my heart rate double. It isn’t fear that pulls that from me but exhilaration.
I know how fucking demented it is to feel joy while hurting someone else, but that doesn’t make the emotion any less real.
“Alani?”
I jerk my head up, pulling my eyes from the wound I caused, at the sound of my sister’s voice.
I was so lost in what I was doing, I didn’t notice the crowd that has gathered in the doorway.
Donavan stands to the side, casually leaning against the wall, but his body position does nothing to detract from the look of hunger in his eyes. It turns him on to watch me hurt someone else, and I’d be lying if my need for him didn’t feed off of it too.
“Alani?” Ayla says again. “What’s going on?”
I shrug, dropping the knife back on the small table and taking a step away from the man.
“Why the fuck is she even here?” Nash snaps, taking a step in front of Ayla, as if the bleeding man poses some form of threat to his woman.
I see it then, the connection, the way this man is willing to burn down the world for my sister, and it all makes perfect sense why she stays with him. The dedication in his eyes and the way I can tell he’d do literally anything to keep her safe speaks volumes right now.
“Cortez sent him after Alani,” Donavan explains.
Ayla watches my hand as I lift it to my neck.
“Your hands are bloody, babe,” Donavan says, stopping me before I inadvertently get more of it on my skin.
“Babe?” Ayla says, confusion tainting her voice.
Donavan shrugs when she looks over at him.
Warmth swims inside of me. I’m not foolish enough to let the part of my brain that’s desperate for him get lost in the sentiment.
“I followed him from that location we were sitting on in Mexico City,” he continues. “He came right here. Stuck her with a needle before I could stop him.”
I narrow my eyes at him, the glint telling me that part of that is a lie. If I had to guess, I’d say he let the man drug me then stepped in. I saw the surprise on his face when I almost took the knife from him earlier. Maybe he did it so he could deal with this man before I woke up, thinking I’d freak out at the sight of him torturing someone.
Honestly, I should be freaked. I should be at the police station recalling all the gruesome things he’s done, but the inclination isn’t there.
“You killed that man in Austin, didn’t you?”