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Using my foot, I dragged a carved wooden chair from beneath a glossy oak table before shoving Wesley onto its seat. As he choked, coughed, and wheezed, I grabbed the box and ripped it open.
Grabbing a bundle of rope and a roll of duct tape, I went to work.
“No. No. Please don’t tie me up, I-I’ll lose my mind.”
“You lost your motherfucking mind a long time ago,” I scoffed, yanking his arms behind his back before tying them in rope…all the way to his elbows.
They weren’t pretty Shibari knots. In fact, they weren’t pretty at all, but the bastard wouldn’t escape.
“Stop, you son of a bitch,” Wesley snarled. The change in his demeanor was like flipping a light switch. “Untie me rightnow, motherfucker, or I’m gonna add you to my hit list.”
Ignoring his ramblings, I tied his ankles, legs, and thighs to the chair’s thick, wooden legs.
“I’m going to kill you, right along with my mother, father, the Bishops, and, of course, Emma, after we tie the knot. I’m going to slaughter them…bathe in their blood, then inherit every fucking penny they own.”
Over my dead body…which you’ll never get the chance to touch.
Wesley let out a demented giggle, then continued—in horrific detail—all the things he was going to do to me, Emma, her family, and his. No doubt, Wesley was beyond insane and would likely have tried to carry out his plan, but I’d heard enough. Peeling off a strip of duct tape, I slapped it over his mouth. Then turned and strode from the kitchen.
“Emma!” I roared, storming into the living room.
Rounding the couch, I spotted a bag of syringes and vials of liquid sitting on the coffee table. Stopping dead in my tracks, I grabbed a few of the vials and read the labels.
Ketamine and Ativan.
I clenched my jaw as a red haze of rage clouded my periphery.
Turning slowly, I pinned Wesley with a death glare and raised the bottles in my hand. “You’ve been shooting her up with this shit?”
Wesley lifted his chin defiantly and smiled behind the duct tape.
My blood boiled.
“You sick, twisted fuck! I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born,” I growled.
Slamming the vials on the table, I charged out of the room.
“Emma! Emma!” I roared, storming down a long hallway.
Pausing, I kicked in the first door I encountered.
It was a bathroom.
The next was an office.
Claws of anger and desperation shredded my soul.
When I kicked in the third door, my heart stopped.
The ground crumbled beneath me.
There she was…pale, naked, and bound to the bed—just like my nightmare.
“Emma. Oh, Emma, baby,” I groaned.
Blinking at the tears stinging my eyes, I tucked my gun away and sprinted to the bed.
Repeating her name like a mantra—trying to coax her awake—I stared at the wicked wounds the motherfucker had inflicted…
