Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
No need to die. Not just yet.
Left. Right. More steps.
Finally, we stop. I hear Knife Guy’s blade retract. Sounds like he’s tucked it away, then begins punching into a keypad before a beep and the click of a lock. Given how long it took to get to this part of the building, I figure it’s our destination, and that lock might not work both ways. This could be my only chance.
“Hey, boss, we got him,” one of the guys announces.
Boss? Just as I feared: a turf war. I’m leaning toward the Calvaris, based on Wrath’s recent issue with them. But the Dementes would do it just to fuck with us. I’ll sort it out later because right now I have one mission: survive.
I pull back, then shove forward, ramming my body against Knife Guy, and as he pushes me away, I go with the force, hurling myself at the other. I feel resistance as he hits the wall, maybe the doorframe, hard to be sure. He calls out, releasing me, granting me a moment of freedom. I’ve only just pulled away before I feel what must be Knife Guy’s hand on my arm, and I make a guess at his height, attempting a headbutt and nailing him in the head, which is followed by a crack and a thud—his head hitting something?
Pain rockets through my head, but I hear him groan on the floor beneath me. Success! I drop down and slide my bindings around to the front. When I remove the hood, the other guy, with longer hair, is coming at me with something. Figuring it’s a knife, I dodge it and let his hand slip between my arm and side, crushing down and twisting to disarm him. A smooth move because a Wilde always trains for self-defense.
Knife Guy, still on the floor, grabs his stun gun, so I step on his arm and slip it out of his grasp before bashing his head against the doorframe. Then I rush Hair, give him a good kick in the crotch that has him hollering.
Show them to fuck with a Wilde.
No sooner have I secured the stun gun than I feel something against my side. The pain radiates through me, and my legs give out, sending me tumbling to the floor. Apparently, there was more than one stun gun. That was my shot, and I fucking blew it.
Despite being down, I’m still one determined fuck, and I start to get up when someone grabs me by the wrist and pulls it behind my back, pinning me to the ground as he puts the weight of his knee against the small of my back.
“Dammit,” I grunt as I feel the metal of the stun gun against my neck.
“Come on, sexy. Time to give it up, don’t you think?”
That voice, deep and resonant, sounds so familiar. It also annoys the fuck out of me for a reason I can’t explain. How do I know this guy? Try as I may, I can’t place the voice.
I start to turn to get a look at my captor when he yanks on my arm again to the point where I scream.
“Be a good boy,” he says. “Stop resisting.”
“Over my dead body.” That’s where this is gonna lead anyway, so I struggle until another jolt incapacitates me. By the time I come back to my senses, I’m back in restraints, hood over my head. Just got out of that damn thing. I’m a dead man, for sure.
Two guys have me by the arms. Not sure who they are—Knife Guy, Hair, or the man whose voice I recognize—but they take me into the room I resisted entering. When I hear the click of the lock, I know it’s probably too late for me.
They haul me through the room before strapping me to something, pulling my arms to either side, restraining my wrists and then my ankles so I’m stretched out, spread-eagle. What fucked-up contraption is this? I think about the shit Dad used for torturing guys in our basement, and I can’t help wondering what they’ll take first—an ear, a finger—to send to my family. Something so they’ll know how serious these guys are. If that’s what this is, then there’s a chance they can be bargained with.
“Is it money you want?” I ask, struggling in vain against the cuffs. My dick slaps against my legs as I thrash about. “There are more polite ways to handle this without pissing the Wildes off. And in case you don’t know, I also have the Lordes on my side, and you do not want to fuck with those guys. They’re psychotic.” I don’t love that they’re family allies, but it’s the only card I have to play right now. And they will annihilate whatever family does this to me. Of that I’m certain.