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He promised that we will make it through this alive, and I believe him. The question is how alive are we going to be?
Someone grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, my shoulder screaming in protest, and before I can even figure out where I am, I’m pushed hard down a dark hallway. It’s cold and reminds me of Empire’s prison system, only worse. Much worse.
Heavy chanting comes from the other end of the hallway, and I try to slow my pace, fearing what’s coming as I look back over my shoulder, desperately needing to see Easton, but I’m shoved ahead.
One foot forced in front of the other like a fucking death march. My gaze sweeps from left to right, trying to remember the things Easton told me to do, trying to figure out how the hell to survive this.
The chanting gets louder, and my head starts to spin as fear cripples me, creating thick lumps in my throat and making it almost impossible to breathe. My stomach twists and turns, threatening to throw up whatever could be left inside of it.
What am I about to walk in to see? Will my father be there, waiting to slaughter me? Will I be brutally humiliated, raped and played with? Will I be begging for death or will I somehow walk away from all of this unscathed?
The words Santos said back in the dungeon cell have stuck with me—If only you knew what fun we have in store for you, maybe then you’d be smart enough to watch your mouth.
Whatever I’m about to step into isn’t going to be pretty. It’s going to test me, and I hope like hell that I’m strong enough to withstand this torment.
We reach the narrow doorway, the chanting so loud that the walls of the underground torture cell seem to vibrate with their excitement. I’m shoved through the entrance, the grip on my arm falling away as I come to a stumbling standstill, and all eyes are on me. Just as Easton instructed, my gaze snaps around the room, taking a quick assessment.
There’s one door. One way in and one way out, and right now, it’s surrounded by the enemy. There are men from left to right, filling the outside of the room, and I quickly realize these men in tactical uniforms must be my father’s loyal followers.
There must be at least fifty of them, each one watching me a little too closely as they stand around the outside of the room, creating a circle with one lone chair situated right in the center. I can only assume that’s for me, but like hell I’ll volunteer myself to sit in it.
Santos strides into the room, and the chanting begins to fade, but judging by the way some of them continue, it’s clear he doesn’t have everyone’s respect. My heart races as Santos walks right up to me and grips my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh. He yanks me forward, forcing me toward the chair before easily overpowering me and shoving me into it.
My ass hits the hardwood, and he yanks my arms behind me before binding them together with rope. I quickly scan the room, trying to remember Easton’s other instructions. Exits. Weapons. Fight.
Santos has a gun on his hip, but with my hands tied, getting it almost seems impossible, and what would I do with it then? Take a few shots, maybe take out a few of the assholes in the room before running out of bullets then being put right back here? No. That plan isn’t even close to acceptable. I’m too outnumbered. There’s no hope for me now.
A noise erupts at my back, and I whip around, my eyes wide as I find Easton being shoved into the room. His gaze comes to mine first, his jaw clenched so tight he’s probably breaking his teeth under the pressure.
Relief flickers in his eyes, finding me still breathing, and with that, he starts his assessment of the room, probably a shitload better than mine. Before his gaze has even finished working its way around the room, one of the assholes in black tactical clothing rams his fist right into Easton’s stomach, dropping him to the ground.
Laughter erupts throughout the room, but Easton keeps his gaze locked on mine the whole time, not letting the bullshit affect him. He’s in the zone, ready to strike the second he can.
A million messages pass between us, and with every second I’m left sitting here in the center of the room, the tension grows, knowing that the reason I’m here is about to come to light.
Silence fills the room, and I swivel to follow their line of sight. At the only exit, I find Aunt Liv looming in the doorway, and I suck in a breath, her betrayal sending another painful pang through my heart. She strides toward me, dragging a hardback chair in one hand and a revolver in the other. The woman I learned to love like a mother has her cold gaze glued to me with disgust and amusement.
