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The bastard is dead, and I’m terrified that I’m next.
Is there any way I can still escape and carry out part two of my haphazard plan?
Raid Bertrand Soltorre’s files and uncover everything the slimy fuckstick was doing.
I know he was involved in whatever happened to Ruby. Iknowit. I’m upset that I won’t have a chance to prove it now if I can’t get out.
“I’m sorry, Rubes,” I whisper, hoping that wherever she is, she knows I’m thinking about her, working on finding her.
I’ve never once let myself consider the fact that she might not be alive. She has to be. My hope is the only way I’ve survived this long without her. In the same way that she’s my only family, I’m hers. Not in blood, but because we chose each other. We grew up in the same foster home when we were preteens, growing into teenagers and then women, and we’ve always had each other’s backs.
Wryn and Ruby forever.
These last eighteen months have been excruciating. I’ve been completely alone in this world, and beyond it being scary as hell, I’ve had to do things I never thought I would.
Case in point: kill.
I’m a killer.
I shudder at the thought.
I deserve to die, too, but Ruby doesn’t. I can’t let her down by getting myself offed.
“Think,” I tell the empty room, throwing my head back.
I stare up at the ceiling, my eyes zeroing in on a black spot crawling across it. An insect of some sort. It’s evident I’m probably not escaping by myself, so what will be the best plan of attack to sweet-talk my captor?
Connor Stanson Soltorre, first and only son and heir to the Soltorre empire according to my research into Bertrand, has me chained to a chair in his basement, and if he’s anything like his father, sweet-talking should work on him.
But I don’t get the feeling he is like Bertrand. There’s a definite overt air about him that says,Don’t fuck with me. But sometimes, when his eyes are on me, I get the feeling he wants to fuck me. And I can’t say that my body doesn’t react around him. That night at the club, I sensed the electricity that passed through us as soon as his fingers made contact with my skin.
I ignored it. I wouldn’t be attracted to someone so heinous, without morals or scruples.
But look at me now.
I’m without my own morals and scruples and still attracted to the beast who holds my life in the palm of his hand.
I let my head hang forward, closing my eyes. I need to sleep, to remain clearheaded for whatever lies before me. But I don’t think I can. I adjust myself in the chair as much as I can, scooting my half-asleep ass to the side and bracing my elbow on the armrest so can lay my head over on my shoulder and close my eyes again.
Scenes from Bertrand’s office assault me, and I gasp. The noise he made, trying to draw air into his mangled throat. The thump as his body hit the carpet. The warm blood Connor smeared on my lips. I can still feel it.
My eyes fly open and the bare lightbulb in the center of the ceiling makes me squint.
I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.
The soundof a door opening and then shutting has me jerking in my sleep-deprived state. I look up, blinking against the harsh light. My gaze finally focuses on the door, where a man stands against it. I blink a few more times and see it’s the guy who was here before with Connor.
He looks at me, his face blank. It’s creepy as hell, and it makes my heart race. I don’t know what he’s doing exactly, but I open my mouth, licking my lips to wet them. I really need some water.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
His nostrils flare slightly before he strides forward. Instinct has me jerking away from his sharp movements, but there’s nowhere for me to go.
I watch suspiciously as he bends down, unclasping the manacles around both of my ankles. Before I can react, he grasps one of my legs and looks up at me.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says.
Damn, he’s quick. I didn’t even know I was about to kick him.
