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There’s a sparkle in Carter’s eyes. This is a vengeful victory for him. He pops a grainy photo of the man on the screen.
“He wasn’t with Bartiste either time we met him,” Vincent points out.
“No. He’s highly important to Bartiste. He would crash and burn without him. So he keeps him out of harm’s way, hidden.”
“Then, we go get him.”
“No.”
We all stop and look at Carter, pulling our brows together almost in unison. He straightens, sliding his hands in his pockets.
“It’s almost six hours away, too much can happen by the time we get there.”
“Okay, what now?” I ask him.
“Don’t you see where he is? Venator, specifically Alnit Hill territory…”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s time to reconnect with your cousin.”
“I think you’re right.” I nod.
“You’re talking about Buchanan?” Finn steps forward, frowning at me.
“He runs Alnit. We would be stupid not to ask for his assistance.”
“Make the call,” Carter growls, his gaze darkening with bloodthirst vividly painted in his blueish-hazel eyes.
“We barely know the man, brother. Why would he help us?” Finn asks.
“Because this is not about us, this is about our women. Sloan would never say no to that.”
ANNIKA
I thought I knew whatfear was. How it shattered your will and stinted any self-preservation instincts.
I thought I felt it when those men quite literally burst through the door and killed the ones who were protecting us.
That wasn’t it.
I thought I finally felt the worst of it when we struggled and tried to fight our way out of the boat that was ripping us away from our life. Then that first punch hit my ribs, before it landed in my temple and knocked me out.
I thought it couldn’t get any worse than the moment I woke up in pitch-black darkness, willing my eyes to adjust, but to no avail. My head was pounding, every bit of my body shivered, but I managed to find Hanna as she was waking up, probably with the same concussion I had.
But that wasn’t it either.
Real fear is staring into the eyes of death and knowing that it’s not coming just yet. It’s the constant expectation. The road leading to it. Torturous, grueling, painful. It’s not knowing when it will all finally end, and you will be taken away.
The anticipation of death—this is real fear.
“I wonder what I can fit in this tight cunt of yours?” Bartiste grips me harshly in his hand, squeezing the part of me that was only meant for one man.
But I can’t seem to react. Numbness fills every vein. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. Not when I’m hung by my tied wrists on a meat hook fixed in the ceiling, painfully naked.
“I still haven’t decided how I’m gonna take my payment. Which bodes well for you, since I haven’t ripped you to pieces.Yet.Lucky bitch.”
He’s annoyed with his own decision, and lashes out at me, pulling his fist back. I start crying out before it even connects with my middle. Through the pain that brings violent nausea, I breathe a sigh of relief because he hit me in the stomach, not the belly. There’s little to no chance that we will escape this, but if we do, and if I’m really pregnant… I can’t let him take it away from me.
