Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Leather bites my wrists. Blood dries beneath my nose. Camille sits a few feet away, one heel tucked behind the leg of her chair as she watches.
My ribs loosen. The raw place inside my chest goes quiet. The boy on the yacht slips out of reach, taking his blue eyes and wet hair with him. Asher follows. Nonna’s kitchen goes next, then Jord and Punk. The faces blend into darkness, and I let them.
I lift my head, looking straight at him. “Dad?”
Emeric’s smile spreads. His burned cheek pulls tight beside his teeth, and pride brightens the eyes I’ve spent years obeying. “I knew it.”
He leans close, giving me the words he buried where no one else could reach them. “Sic ’em.”
My pulse stalls before the next beat slams through me, clearing the black from my vision.
Names, promises, rules, and fragile human attachments strip away. Pain reduces to information: pressure at both wrists, low blood flow in my left hand, buckle pins facing out, three inches of slack near my waist.
Camille starts breathing faster. I remember Asher’s hands, his mouth, and the diamond on my finger. I remember shooting him and crying over his body.
Ivanya loved him.
I don’t know her.
My fingers curl, testing the leather again. The buckle at my right wrist shifts against the wall, revealing cheap hardware. Emeric expects the trigger to keep me obedient. Stronger restraints would have been a waste.
He’s right.
Camille shoots out of her chair, the legs shrieking across concrete. She retreats until her back meets the wall, one hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes drag across my face, searching for the woman she came in to taunt.
That woman is gone.
“Mariée de la Mort.” Camille’s voice breaks around the name.
I watch her swallow. The pulse beneath her jaw beats fast. Nine feet separate us, with one chair in the path. She has a slight limp to her right. I could put her down before she reaches the door.
Emeric steps between us, blocking my view of her. He places two fingers beneath my chin and tips my face toward the fluorescent light, inspecting his work.
“There you are, my Mariée.” Satisfaction softens his mouth. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I say.
He releases my chin. “And Asher?”
A blue stare flashes across the dark, followed by his wicked mouth and the warmth of his hand around mine.
“Target,” I answer.
He reaches for the strap across my chest, sliding his thumb under the buckle.
“What are you going to do, Mariée?”
I look into my father’s eyes. “I’m going to kill them all.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
ASHER
Ivy has left traces of herself all over this house. A black hair tie looped around the lamp stem, a thumbnail nick in the coffee table from her little party tantrum. Counting each one keeps my fist out of Atlas’s face, since he won’t shut the fuck up.
Atlas paces across the rug, grinding snow from his boots. “I told you.” He spreads his hands. “I fucking told you not to let her run off.”
My fingers close around the armrest. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You stood there and watched her go.” Atlas kicks the rug, missing by half an inch. “Barefoot. In a storm. After she just figured out who the fuck you are.”
I stop rocking. “You’re one shitty comment away from me fucking you up, Atlas.”
Atlas stops behind the sofa. “You’re sitting still. That’s fucking terrifying. How the fuck is doing the opposite of what we should be doing keeping you calm?”
“It’s working,” I tell him. “I’m only considering one murder.”
His mouth twists. “Hilarious.”
Someone hammers on the front door.
Atlas reaches inside his coat.
I rise, the chair still rocking without me. “If you shoot whoever found her, I’ll be annoyed.”
“If they hurt her, you’ll be more than annoyed,” Atlas mutters, following me into the hall.
I unlock the door and pull it open.
Leon stands on the step, Punk at his left in a beanie. Luce grips Punk’s elbow, and Jord shoves to the front of them, fury hardening his face.
“What is happening?”
“I’m sure your friends have a lot to tell you,” I say to Jord, lifting a brow at Leon.
“Shut up, Delacroix,” Leon snaps, pushing inside with the rest trailing behind him.
I slam the door shut.
“Why the fuck did you let her run?” Leon asks, clinking bottles at the bar in the corner of the living room.
Here we go. Another fucking round of questions.
“I didn’t,” I say, snatching the freshly poured whiskey and dropping back into the rocking chair. “I was going to get her but she was gone.”
“Hmmm.” Punk gives me a slow nod. “Sounds about right. But why the fuck did she run in the first place!”
I pause with the glass at my mouth. Punk’s face loses color.
“Because she made me.”
Silence. That’s what the fuck I thought.
Luce blows out a breath, dropping onto the back of the sofa. “Okay. Think. Is it possible that he caught her?”