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Sarah finishes applying the product and sets the bowls of bleach aside. “Alright, girl,” she says, making a show of cleaning up her things. “Give it half an hour and we’ll check your process.”
I smile before getting up from the chair. “Perfect, I’ll be back in two seconds,” I tell her, more than aware of just how useful the next thirty minutes could be when trying to figure out the blueprint puzzle. But it’s a risk. If the boys were to walk out, they’ll see my phone. I’ll have to be discreet. If anything, I can place it on the table by Sarah’s things, letting them think it’s hers.
Scooping my phone out of the toilet roll holder in my private bathroom, I head back out to the dining table, being careful not to move around too much. Zade would tear me a new asshole if I accidentally got bleach all over his fancy penthouse. Though I’m starting to wonder if he really cares as much as he lets on. After all, I didn’t get my ass handed to me for the whole designer suits fiasco like I should have. Hell, this guy is going to kill me. Why should I care so much about destroying his suits? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Dropping back down at the table, I prop my feet up on the chair beside me and frown as I glance out the window, taking in the heavy storm clouds rolling in over Faders Bay. “Shit. Looks like it’s gonna be a nasty one,” I mutter while unlocking my phone, noticing how the dark clouds make it easier to see the penthouse’s reflection through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Not thinking much of it, I drop my attention to my phone and get busy scanning over the twenty images of the blueprints, wishing I were somehow able to print them off and lay them out like a puzzle. It would make this so much easier.
After fifteen minutes, Sarah steps behind me and glances over my hair, checking on its progress. I watch her through the window, and she nods to herself, liking what she’s seeing. “Maybe another ten minutes and we’ll be good to start rinsing,” she tells me.
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips, feeling like I’m somehow claiming a piece of myself back. I don’t have a lot of control at the moment. Hell, I have none at all, so being able to do this has helped to restore just a bit of that. It’s the small things in life.
Sarah steps back toward her things, and as I go to drop my gaze back to my phone, something catches in the light. My brows furrow, and I watch her more closely as she picks something up from her kit. Is that . . . is that a fucking blade? No, it can’t be. Surely I just imagined it.
Darkness spreads over her face, and she quickly moves in behind me. Fast as lightning, she grips my hair and rips my head back, exposing my throat as her hand whips around in a shallow arc toward my throat.
Oh, hell no.
Panic tears through me, and I throw myself to the ground, a sharp blood-curdling scream tearing from the back of my throat. Sarah comes down on me, the blade slashing toward me as I hear the boys making a break for it, but they’re not going to reach me in time. I’m on my own here.
With not many options, I slam my elbow into her tit and she screams out in agony, falling back, and I fly for her, the blade still flailing around. Overwhelming fear blasts through my veins, and realizing it’s either her or me, I catch her wrist. Without even a moment to consider what I’m doing, I turn the blade on her and drop my weight down.
“NO, DON’T FUCKING KILL—”
Too fucking late.
The blade plunges through the base of her throat as I let out a raw scream of horror, my eyes wide and filled with fear. Sarah’s body jerks and spasms, and there’s a gurgling in her throat as blood pools around her.
Zade races in, dropping down beside Sarah, his hand pressing against her chest as if to keep her pinned, but it’s not like the bitch is going anywhere. “Who fucking sent you?” he spits, rage tearing from him as I scramble away, not stopping until my back slams against the floor-to-ceiling window. My hands shake as thunder rocks through the sky, the whole fucking hotel vibrating from its force.
What the hell have I done?
My whole body convulses as bile rises in my throat. I’m no better than the guys.
Dalton drops down in front of me, clutching my chin and forcing me to meet his stare, but I look around him, trying to look at the girl as Zade desperately attempts to get some kind of information out of her. But there’s no use in trying; she can’t talk like that.
