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“I want the only thing I've ever wanted, Kristine. My family. You.”
I pretended for five years. I can pretend long enough to save Ethan. He said Asher and I deserved happiness. And we deserveEthan Callahan.
Now, to find out what this bastard's done with him.
“I'll come back. But you'll release Ethan.”
Brandon bursts out laughing. “It's not that simple, Krissy. You hurt me by leaving and going out with that idiot, and now you have to make it up to me.”
Fear climbs through my body, but I suppress it. By now, I'm an expert at keeping my cool in front of my ex-husband. He looks at me, enjoying the hatred reflected in my gaze.
“You'll have to pay a price for what you did.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to sink those fuckers the way they intended to sink me,” Brandon states, basking in the glory of the moment.
“I won't do that to Ethan.”
“You'll have to, Krissy. It's the price to pay if you want your son back and your bastard of a lover alive. Though, of course, you won't be able to see him again after this.”
My eyes close, and a silent tear runs down my cheek. “If I do it...”
“We'll forget this whole divorce incident. Asher and I will move back in with you and we’ll put all this damn rebelliousness behind us. We'll have to remarry. But a wedding should help the press forget your foolish behavior.”
“I'll do it. But only if you promise Ethan will live and come out of this unscathed.”
“I promise you he'll live.” Brandon reaches over to me and kisses me on the cheek, very close to my lips. “I want him to know what it feels like to lose you.”
My stomach churns, and disgust rises up my throat, but I swallow slowly and nod. “Okay… I'll do it.”
“I knew you were a good girl, Krissy,” Brandon whispers, proud.
He breaks away from me and walks back to the bar. “Do as I say, and I promise that asshole will live to see another day.”
Brandon turns his back on me, and I realize it's time to leave, so I walk out of the room.
I, too, will see another day come.But without a doubt, what awaits me is not a life or love. It’s hell.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ETHAN
“Wake up!”
The command slices through the fog in my brain, a cruel reminder of where I am. Pain is a steady drumbeat at the base of my skull, but it's nothing compared to the fear for Kristine and Asher that gnaws at me. I blink against the dim light, every inch of my body protesting.
And I’ll be damned if it isn’t me walking out of here—to them—when this is finally over.
I survey the room. It's straight out of a noir film—dark, damp, and reeking of despair. The walls are alive with shadows that seem to mock my predicament. I force my eyes to focus on Dexter Whitmore. He stands before me, his face twisted into a smirk that begs to be wiped off.
“Fucking bastard,” I manage through gritted teeth.
He looks at me, and his small eyes glint with amusement. He resembles a predator that has cornered its prey and is reveling in it.
But I won't stay here for long.
“Ethan. As always, it's a pleasure to see you again,” Dexter says, as though we're old friends catching up over drinks instead of him having me tied up in a chair.
