Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
My brothers fan out behind me, clearing rooms and shouting confirmations of the empty spaces. They’re accompanied by Azra’s brothers, whose faces are just as murderous.
I veer my steps straight for the rooftop.
That’s where Azra is, so that’s where I need to be.
My worst nightmare comes to fruition when I burst into the open and spot Azra balancing on the thin lip of the roof, swaying uncontrollably. Her movements are slow and dreamlike, as if she’s not fully here.
“Azra…” Ahmet says, catching up to me. “Hey, prenses. It’s not safe up there, so I’d really like it if you hopped down.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap out when his words inch her closer to the edge.
Niceties aren’t what she needs right now. Coddling someone during a crisis only pushes them closer to death. She wanted revenge. Her entire existence for the past several years was based on that. Snatching that away from her, even unknowingly, is worse than stealing a binkie from a baby.
“That’s our sister,” Kemal barks out, as if he might reach her before his charge forced her to jump.
If that were true, I’d already be sprinting across the painted concrete floor.
“She’s my fucking wife,” I yell back. “That means I know her better than you, and I love her more than you ever have. So stand the fuck down or watch your sister fall to her death.” You have no idea how hard it was to say those words. A batch of vomit accompanied each word.
Although his jaw twitches, Ahmet gestures for Kemal to stand down. His eyes silently warn that he’ll take his time killing me, that I won’t stop suffering for weeks if I fuck this up. I don’t mind. Death will be a walk in the park if I don’t know Azra as well as I think I do.
I moisten my throat with saliva to make my words come out with indifference. “Do you really think this is the answer? What would Hattie say when she learns you gave up on her and the promise you made? You’ve been working on making him pay since the day she died. Do you really want to give up now?”
Both our brothers look at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have, but I know my wife.
I know what she needs, so I continue.
“If you want to take the easy way out, fine. Jump. But if you want to make him pay—really pay—then stand your ground and show him you’re stronger than he ever believed.”
The pride in my tone isn’t rewarded with a twitch or a flicker.
I get nothing. But desperation is a beast I’ll never slay without taking every motherfucker in the realm down with me.
“Or maybe you finally know the truth. Hattie took her life because she wasn’t strong enough to be a part of the Cosa Nostra.”
Nico hisses. “Matteo, what the hell are you doing?”
I warn him to stand the fuck down with a stern finger point.
It could be a muscle spasm, but Azra reacts to my taunt.
Her balled hands tighten as a blood vessel in her neck throbs intensely.
I take a breath and then go for the jugular. “I also heard she liked dick a little too much to be a good, traditional Cosa Nostra wife.”
Azra hisses.
Finally.
It isn’t enough, though, so with a cruel, deliberate attack, I push harder.
“Perhaps if she’d closed her legs a little more often, she wouldn’t have placed herself in a predicament to get hurt.”
I know what this location is. I know what they used it for, so it now makes sense why Hattie made the decision she did. She isn’t the first victim of the gang-rape attacks that the Adamis organized to believe suicide was her only option.
“It’s a little hard to withdraw consent halfway through a hundred men.”
When Azra’s fingernails dig into her palm, our brothers finally understand what I’m doing.
She can’t hit me from the ledge.
She’ll need to stand toe-to-toe with me to ram my lies back down my throat with her fists.
“She didn’t give consent, nor did she open her legs,” Azra whispers, her voice hoarse. “They forced her.”
I pfft her. “Not what I heard.”
She cranks her neck back to face me, and fury blazes through the fog in her eyes.
I’ve never seen eyes so lifeless, and I held my mother when she died.
“It doesn’t matter what you heard,” she snaps, seething. “I know what happened.”
I shrug dismissively. “Your word doesn’t mean shit if you don’t have proof.”
Defeated playing a game that was never meant to favor her, she shifts her focus back to the front, leaving me no choice but to pull out the lowest trick in the book.
“Just admit it, your friend was a whore who took on more than she could handle.”
That does it.
Without an ounce of fear in her steps, she storms for me and slaps me so hard that my head rockets to the side. While screaming like a deranged witch, her fists then slam into my chest so forcefully they remind my heart that it can commence beating again.