Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I’d like a go with her,” one of the men chuckles beside me.
“Of course. That’s why we’re here tonight, to enjoy ourselves,” Amoretto responds happily.
I can’t watch any more of this, and I need to find Caia. “I need to find my toy. She went to the restroom. I’ll be back shortly,” I tell our host, who waves me off because he is far too interested in watching the poor girl take another mouthful from the man dressed in white.
Racing into the entrance, I take the stairs two at a time. I don’t know the house very well, but I can only guess where Caia has disappeared to. The hallway is long with numerous doors, which are closed. I try each one, finding them locked.
Finally, the last door opens when I turn the handle. Shoving it open, I find Caia standing only inches over the threshold. She’s staring at the room, and even though I can’t see her face, I know she’s crying.
I want to pull her into my arms, hold her, but I don’t.
“I thought I could do this,” she rasps. When she turns to me, I notice the pain in her eyes. It reflects my own, because as much as I don’t tell her, or admit my feelings, all her pain is inside me. I’ve been there. I’ve lived through it.
“You can,” I tell her, stepping farther into the room. Glancing around, I take in what I can only guess was her bedroom growing up. The blue and silver color scheme wasn’t what I would’ve expected from her, but somehow, it fits the girl standing before me.
“Seeing him again,” she starts, allowing me to cocoon her with my arms. “It’s something I’ve thought about all the years I’ve been away, but nothing prepared me for what I saw.”
“He’s a monster,” I concur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But this is closure. It’s something you need. Saying goodbye to your old life . . .” My words taper off because I can’t tell her what she has to do. She needs to let herself realize it.
“You’re right.” Her voice is muffled by my jacket. Her tiny hands fist the material, holding onto me as if she’s afraid I’m going to disappear. I couldn’t ever leave her. I know it now, and I knew it back then. She’s ingrained in me.
“We need to get back downstairs,” I tell her.
She nods, and I lead her with my hand in hers down to the party that will soon be a massacre. When we reach the lower level, I seek out River, finding him beside his date. There are people still milling about, and I glance at the watch on my wrist. Our team was briefed to make an appearance soon. The dinner seems to be delayed, which doesn’t bode well for our plan.
“What’s going on?” I question my best friend when I reach him.
“Amoretto got called away. He’s just left, told us he’ll be back soon.” Shit.
“This is not something we were banking on,” I tell River, but he knows it already. I don’t have to tell him. This is something that should’ve been done today. The men in this room should all be dead by the end of the night.
“I’ve called the team, told them to go ahead.” River’s voice is low so only I can hear. I snap my gaze to his. “I reckon if we only have Amoretto to take down, it’s fine. We can do it ourselves. They’ll be here in two minutes.”
“Fine.”
I tug Caia alongside me as we make our way through the crowd. I need to get her outside before my men rush into the house and kill everyone in sight. River follows me out into the garden with the girl who seems to be glued to him.
“Mr. Savage.” I halt at the words. Not because I recognize the woman immediately. Ice solidifies in my veins. Anger and revulsion churn my stomach when I turn to find the source of the voice.
“Mrs. Thornhill.” I glance at her, offering her an indifferent smile. All these years, and this woman still has the power to turn me vengeful. Her eyes are bright green, almost luminous. The thick makeup she wears hides the imperfections on her wrinkled face, but I know they’re there.
She’s dressed in black. Her body nothing like it used to be, and I can tell she’s aging badly. Even in the low light.
“I trust you’ll be able to show me to the restroom?” she questions coolly, her voice attempting a seductive tone but failing miserably. She’s probably in her late forties now, perhaps even early fifties. But she was one of the first clients my father had sent me to meet with. When I met her at eighteen, she was curvaceous with a penchant for my dick. And of course, father told me to always ensure the clients were happy.