Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
The tension in her shoulders is obvious, and I want nothing more than to make her forget why we’re here. But it’s important she gets the closure she needs. There have been moments over the past week where I’ve seen the fear in her eyes, flickering like a candle in the dark. Nothing will extinguish that flame other than revenge.
Maybe it’s stupid to think vengeance is the only way forward, but I’ve learned no matter how far you run, there’s no hiding from the painful truth—the past will always cling to you until you let it go.
“We will find her,” I assure Rayne, hoping to calm her.
Glancing at Harper, I can tell she’s also tightly wound.
The need to control their emotions overwhelms me. I don’t want them to hurt.
Even as a young boy, I never wanted anyone I cared for to be in pain. But now I have no choice, because I have to allow them to feel whatever they need.
“Let’s head over to the table,” I suggest as I take note of everyone moving to their seats in preparation for the evening’s entertainment.
There will be speeches about how amazing everyone is here tonight. It’s a blatant lie.
Once we’re seated, I can feel Harper’s eyes on me. She’s anxious. Usually, I can quell my girls’ negative emotions. Distract them so they don’t focus on the destructive thoughts running through their minds. But this situation is far more stressful than anything they’ve ever put themselves through before.
As the lights dim and the spotlight hits the stage, my stomach begins to churn. Suddenly, I’ve a gut feeling that our plans are about to implode, and everything we’ve worked so hard for is going to be destroyed. I must be losing my fucking mind.
That’s when the host for the evening walks onto the stage. She reaches for the black Venetian mask she’s wearing, and as she removes it, I feel Rayne shudder beside me. She doesn’t need to tell me who this is because the woman on the stage looks exactly like an older version of her.
Apart from the age difference, they could be twins.
Dressed in a sleek, silver floor-length dress with long sleeves and a high neckline, she looks the epitome of wealth.
Mrs. Rae Atwood, Rayne’s mother, stops at the podium, a smile on her face as she regards the guests. She has no idea she’s about to address the daughter she sold to men who were willing to pay extortionate amounts to own and abuse her.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she starts. “Tonight is a very special event because we’re gathered here to remember the man who started all of this.”
She waves her hands toward the screen behind her, and as it lights up, an image appears, and I want nothing more than to throw up. Because staring back at me is my father.
“Malcolm Savage started this organization, which is now worldwide, but when he first brought me into his circle, he didn’t know how deep or far the artery of what we do reached. But he quickly learned. He realized we were fragmented and needed leadership, and as a result, he created something I’d only ever envisioned until then.”
As the slideshow continues, the photos are all of Malcolm. In some of them he’s with me and Drake, and he appears to be nothing more than a loving father. There’s no hint as to the true depravity of the bastard. If you were a benefactor at this gala, you would think he was a doting family man.
“The charity today is asking for your generous donations. We will use your gifts to send aid workers into war torn countries. We’ll save innocent children who are caught in the crossfire, and we’ll go into orphanages to help the little ones who have no family.”
As Rae Atwood speaks, bile churns in my stomach before slowly rising into my throat, burning as it makes its way up. The photos and the speech, packed with lies, harden my resolve. We have to stop them. There is no way these fuckers will be leaving with the millions that will be donated here tonight.
As soon as Mrs. Atwood concludes her speech, Rayne is on her feet and racing for the door. The rest of the guests at the table gawk at her, but I no longer give a shit, I would happily take them all out, right here and now. But I tug Harper to her feet, and we make our way out of the ballroom to find Rayne holding onto the wall, tears streaking down her mask.
“I can’t believe it,” she gasps between sobs. I try to hold her, taking her hands in mine, but she shakes her head as she straightens, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I need to finish this tonight, Dante. I can’t allow her to do what I know she’s planning to do.”