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“It’ll only take a minute.”
“Go away, Trent.” Belle pushed the door.
Trent halted her. “It’s important, Belle.”
“I don’t care!” Full panic engulfed her. She looked over her shoulder, noticing she had put her cordless phone on the living room coffee table. She made a decision to run for it and call 911. Trent was inebriated and she knew better than trying to reason with a drunken man.
Belle made a dash and snatched the phone. With a trembling hand, she dialled the emergency phone number. She’d barely talked to the operator when a strong hand grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. Trent shook her violently so the phone fell off her hand. She heaved. “Hel—”
Trent’s palm clamped her mouth before she could scream for help. He tightened his grip to the point of hurting her. “Listen, you uppity cunt. Do you think I want to do this?” he growled near her ear.
The strong smell of alcohol made her stomach roil. Belle elbowed him in self-defence. Trent retaliated by backhanding her in one murderous sweep. Pain exploded in her left cheek. He hit her so hard it knocked the air out of her lungs. Belle fell flat on the carpet. She wheezed, unable to breathe. Trent pounced at her and planted a hand on her throat, choking her. Her eyes widened, realising Trent had gone off his rocker. His face turned purple with rage. His eyes were bloodshot-red. The alcohol had turned him into a monster. A pang of fear shimmered in her mind. Did he even realise what he was doing?
“All you need to do is obey Auntie Maggie and we’ll all be happy. I’m tired of being your bitch–sisters’ puppet.” Trent gave a loud laugh. “And the worst part is they aren’t your real sisters. It’s all been a sham.”
What the hell is he talking about?
Trent choked her harder. Belle started seeing stars. His eyes narrowed as he studied her body, glinting with maliciousness.
“Though, I’d never have guessed you cleaned up pretty nice after all these years.” Trent groped her and yanked open her blouse. “It should’ve been an easy job for me. If you would’ve listened.”
God, no, he certainly doesn’t think he’s…
Belle clutched his arms, trying to pry them from her throat. But Trent was so strong. She had trouble breathing, let alone defending herself. “Help!” she croaked. But the sound that came out of her mouth was nothing but a hoarse whisper. She grew more lightheaded by the second.
He’s going to kill me. Help me. Help…
A man shouted. Before anything registered in her mind, Trent’s body flew and hit the bookshelf. Belle gulped a lungful of air and doubled over, coughing her guts up. She barely paid attention to the commotion. When she finally recollected herself, she found Armand kneeling by her side. His face was darkened with rage. His fists were bloodied. Belle whipped her head in Trent’s direction and saw him slumped by the wall. His face was covered in blood. “What did you do…to him?” Her voice cracked.
“Are you okay?” Armand helped her sit up.
Belle coughed. “Tell me you didn’t kill him.”
“I was going to.”
“Please don’t.”
“He deserves it.”
“He said something strange.”
“Like what?”
“He said Clara and Sarah aren’t actually my sisters. I need to ask him.”
Armand rose. His expression was grim.
“Where are you going?” Belle asked him.
“I need to call Hervé. He has the connections we need.”
Chapter Seven
Armand paced around in the cramped office, waiting for Detective Del Rio to come out of the interrogation room. Del Rio had been questioning Trent Curtis for more than three hours. After Armand let Hervé know Belle had been attacked, his cousin arrived with his friend Edgar Del Rio, a half-human and half-fae who worked as a detective in the Chicago Police Department. Hervé was furious to find Belle had been assaulted. He had had a grievance. He and Hervé hadn’t guessed Trent would be stupid enough to try and force his will on Belle. Arm
and had cast a spying spell on Belle ever since he and his cousin openly fought over her. He had done it because he wanted to know if Hervé planned to do something devious behind his back again. Armand was surprised when the spell had warned him that Belle was in distress. The sight of Trent hurting her had almost blindsided him into committing a cold-blooded killing.
Hervé returned to the cramped office with two foam cups of coffee. Belle murmured her thanks and sipped one. She looked rattled from the ordeal, but she collected herself quickly.
