Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
I … what?
My heart beats wildly in my chest as I reread those words, my breath going out in short pants. I think back to that night, to how Sia disappeared as Bastian arrived. How, when Bastian approached me, Sai wasn’t there to hover in the background the way he had all my life when someone he didn’t know or trust came too close for comfort.
No, Sai had slipped away.
Hid away?
So he could sneak this shot?
Confusion clouds my mind, erasing everything else and leaving only my need to know, to understand and find the peace I’ve been missing.
I have to get back. I have to go home.
My dad, who knows what he’s done. He might have killed him by now.
Oh my god, what if he did?! I—
I start to shake.
A paper slides a little to the right, and the photograph attached to it catches my attention. My eyes narrow, brows snapping together as I look closer.
This one isn’t Bastian. It’s a woman.
A pale woman with dark hair and light eyes, and I know instantly. This is her. The vile creature he’s been searching for. This is his mother.
This photo is time-stamped as well, taken only three weeks ago, but the fact that she’s still alive and this is current is not what shocks me most.
It’s the woman herself. She’s … familiar to me. I’ve seen her, but where?
And then it clicks … or maybe the click comes from the hard, cold steel now pressed against my temple.
“Out of the car, little Revenaw.”
The photo falls from my fingertips as I look up directly into the dark, deadly eyes of none other than Enzo Fikile.
Fuck.
I’m bound and fucking gagged, glaring across the seat at a stone-faced Enzo Fikile. The man my father sold my sister to in exchange for an alliance, then went back on his word and offered him me instead.
It seems he’s come to collect his prize, but rather than whisking me away to his private hangar here, the car is whipped around, heading back toward Greyson Manor. Panic like I’ve never known before engulfs me, and it takes every ounce of energy just to keep my lungs from seizing. I don’t want to watch my father die, even though I might kill him myself if he took Bastian from me for good.
The thought sends a literal ache through my body, and my muscles stiffen from the pain.
I look to my girls. Bronx and Delta’s hands are tied behind their backs, the boys just the same, and Damiano has blood dripping into his ear from where one of Enzo’s men had clocked him with the gun.
We didn’t stand a chance against them. They came far more prepared than we, barricading us in with no less than seven vehicles. I had no idea what was happening, how hard they fought against them. I was frozen, unaware, and shut down as I flipped through Sai’s secret.
A secret I’m not so sure I understand, but there’s no time to dive deeper because the next thing I know, we’re pulling up out front of Greyson Manor, and I’m lifted, tossed over the shoulder of the man who came to take me home.
The property is oddly silent, with no sign of life as Enzo’s men run ahead of us, guns locked and loaded and pointed around every corner as he carries me as if I weigh nothing into the foyer, across the hall, and down into the basement … as if he knows the exact layout of the manor and where my father would be within it.
I hear him before I see him.
His deep, angry growl rumbles, the clank of chains following and as I’m tossed to the floor, his chest rumbles louder. I snap my head up, my eyes locked with his wild, rage-filled ones.
“What the fuck?” Both Bastian and my father boom at the same moment.
My dad has his gun drawn and pointed at Enzo’s head in an instant. All at once, my dad’s men pop up from the surrounding space, circling us, but for every one they point at the men who have captured us, two point back at them. People shout and scream their demands, and when a few loose bullets ricochet around the space, I drop to the floor, eyes seeking out Bastian’s.
A harsh hiss whooshes from him as I meet his eyes. He’s busted and bloody, but he’s alive.
He dips his chin as if to tell me it’s okay, but the sharp, assessing gleam in his gaze gives him away … he’s not a hundred-percent sure.
Then again, how can he be?
He’s chained to the fucking floor and it’s my father who put him there. Now an entirely new threat stands before us.
“Do not fucking shoot!” Damiano shouts, somehow free of his gag. “The future leader of our people is in this fucking room!” Surprisingly, all the men ease up a little, fingers still pressed to their triggers, though everyone in the room seems to take two steps backward.