Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Just as I stumble onto a handful of shadows, my feet are pulled out from beneath me, and I tumble down the stairs, my rolls ending when I crash into the banister that tore my daughter from Ana’s womb.
I’m twisted up like a pretzel, and my head is thumping, but there’s no denying I didn’t fall down the stairs. Someone hooked my ankle, but before I can grab my gun to force them out of their hidey-hole, a much more dangerous situation emerges.
Anastasia is in the laundry room as expected, except she isn’t here voluntarily. She’s strung up via a noose, and her toes are narrowly touching the chair saving her from asphyxiation. Her hands are bound behind her back, her ankles are tethered with the same rope digging into her neck, and she is gagged.
When my eyes snap to her right, my nostrils flare. Death is plaguing the room, but it isn’t coming from Ana or me. It is for the man I plan to skin like a fucking animal and his redhead sidekick.
“Aw… isn’t this cozy?” Stace murmurs with a fake pout. “It is like a reunion.” She locks her eyes with mine while saying with a smirk. “Except you aren’t hours late this time around, since you’re not reeling in the aftermath of sugar pills in my bed.” As she butts shoulders with Watermelon Head, she murmurs, “We couldn’t risk that stress wouldn’t wipe you out, so we switched your medication for something a little less effective for your… condition.” Her pout doubles when she air quotes her last word.
Watermelon Head, who is standing between Stace and Ana, throws his fat head back and laughs. His nose is still wonky from where I broke it last night, and his eyes are black, but he laughs like a hyena not about to have his cock cut off and stuffed down his throat.
“You fucking—” Blinded by rage, I charge for Walter, confident my barge will bring him and Stace down together.
I barely complete a three-step hobble when my campaign is ended by a gun being stuffed under Ana’s rib. Kirill was hiding in the shadows, and although I am aware Watermelon Head does nothing without his permission, I’ve never seen him get his hands dirty with the nitty gritty of his industry.
Once he’s confident he has my focus, Kirill says, “With Katie being pregnant, I don’t really care about your small claim for infamy this time around that could bump down the Bobrovs’ rankings in the bratva, but I’ve worked too hard for too long not to succeed with my wish for an heir.” He digs the gun in deeper, making Ana whimper and ensuring I won’t feel an ounce of remorse when I scalp his hair from his abhorrent head. “And since Ghost only listens to one man, I need to ensure he is being given the right messages.”
“I ain’t—” A second dig and I shut my mouth like narking on Ghost was on my resume when I signed up to be his best friend.
Despite Anastasia’s belief, she will always hold the number one spot on my protective list. If I didn’t have Yev sitting outside our apartment building the day Kirill and Ghost returned from the USA with a fuckton of tension, I would have never turned up to the compound that morning to discover Lera in an industrial bin at the back of the monastery and Ghost pleading to do anything to keep his sister alive.
Ana stares at me with pleading eyes when I ask Kirill, “What do you want me to do?”
She doesn’t trust them any more than me, but she is aware they will kill her if I don’t do as asked. Once she is safe, I’ll get my revenge.
But not until then.
Not when her life is at risk.
“We—”
“Cut her down first,” I interrupt, my voice exposing that this isn’t a suggestion. It is a demand. “Cut her fucking down. Now!”
As my roar echoes around the laundry room, Kirill lifts his chin, soundlessly requesting for Stace to disarm me first.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I whisper into her ear when she yanks the gun out of the back of my jeans by curling her arms around my back. “And I’m going to take my time with you that you’ll wish you were back with the fucking john who stomped on you, except Ana won’t save you this time around. She won’t cook for you and help you get dressed when you’re too sore to move. She will leave you withering on the floor like you fucking did her.” With my anger too high to hold back, I say louder this time, “You fucking piece of shit, you killed my daughter? You fucking tripped Ana, didn’t you?”
She tries to deny it.
When that doesn’t work, she tries to act smug by grinning.