Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
When Lycan told me to run, he promised me he’d be okay, that he would come for me, but if he’s in the hospital, I don’t know how he’ll ever find me. Perhaps he’ll have Kahn and his team come for me. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive this.
I have to.
Glancing around the room, I take in the shelves on either wall. There’s a small window beside the top shelf to my left, but I could never fit through it, even if I could get loose. A metal table sits to my right, and on it are tools—a spanner, a hammer, a few screwdrivers—but I have a feeling they’re used for anything but fixing things.
The stench of blood is rife through the small, stuffy space. A thought comes to me and I quickly shimmy the chair over to the table. If I can stand, I can reach for something on the surface, untie my hands, and perhaps I can free myself and get out of here.
I’m not sure how many men are in the house or even on the property, but I can’t sit here and wait for Darius to return.
By the time I’ve shifted toward the table, the door creaks open, and soon enough, I’m staring at a young, tattooed guy who looks at me as if I am his next meal. He takes the stairs one at a time, slowly, predatory, and I realize I’m in trouble if he gets a hold of me.
“Boss man says you’re off limits,” he says, his accent thick, but I can’t quite place it. When he reaches the last stair, he jumps to the ground with both feet landing hard. “But I enjoy breaking rules.” His lips curl, and his eyes flash with dangerous hunger as he regards me.
“I think you should listen to boss man,” I whisper the moniker given to Darius, because I can only imagine what he would do to this boy if something happened to me. I’m the reason he’ll get paid, and if I’m hurt, my father won’t give these bastards a cent.
The young man closes the distance between us. The threat of him being so close sends ice racing through my veins, a shiver wracks my body as he stops inches from me. I’m not in the best position to fight back. But I want nothing more than to hurt him if he touches me.
I’m married.
Those two words steal the air from my lungs. And the thought of Lycan in hospital hits me right in the chest. I double over, a sob breaking through my fear as I realize I am married. I’m Mrs. Scarlett Shaw, and my husband is in ICU because his brother shot him.
“What the fuck’s your problem?” The boy asks, and I wonder briefly if he’ll think I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. Perhaps my reaction will send him running. I can only hope. His hand reaches for me, grips my neck, and brings me closer to his face as he practically lifts me with one arm. He holds me hostage with a look of pure, filthy desire. “I wonder if you’ll bite my dick off when I shove it down your throat.” His words are filled with venom.
I look into his eyes, a bright blue resembling that of a tropical ocean as it shimmers with dappled sunlight. But there’s nothing good about this boy. He must be eighteen at the most. I wonder how he came into this life.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I bite out before I spit in his face, only to earn myself a slap so hard the thick taste of metal coats my tongue. Grinning manically, I spit the crimson liquid to the ground before glancing up at the boy. Because that’s what he is, a boy. “You can hurt me as much as you like, I’m not going down without a fight.”
“Nam.” A heavy voice bounces against the walls, warning clear in the tone as the young boy pales. When he spins around, a fist slams into his jaw, and I hear the crack which causes me to wince even though I haven’t been struck.
“Boss man,” Nam whimpers, clutching his jaw. “I-I… I didn’t—”
“Aye, you fucking didn’t do shit. Get your ass back upstairs and clean the fucking kitchen, you sack of shit.” Darius’s deep growl even has me cowering. I watch as Nam races up the stairs. As soon as the door shut, Darius crouches down as he pulls out a piece of cloth from his pocket and dabs at my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? Didn’t you want me to pay?” I shouldn’t poke the bear, he’s just saved me from some little bastard, but I can’t stop myself.
“No. You weren’t meant to get hurt. I’m not one for spilling blood unnecessarily.” He looks at me, locking his gaze with mine, and I can tell he’s not lying.