Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Resting my hands on the rock wall, I didn’t reply.
There wasn’t much to say.
I appreciated his willingness to share, but all I could think about was returning to Ily.
We stood in silence for a while, my instincts itching to leave.
The sunset might paint the world in flames and hide the shadows where monsters lurked, but I knew the truth. Q knew the truth. And that truth ate at me because I didn’t want to live in a world where darkness could so easily snuff out the light.
If…when…Ily woke. I wanted her to live in a safe world where she would never be hurt again. Where thousands of other innocent people never had to endure what Peter and all the jewels had on that godforsaken island.
Funny how all thoughts of suicide had morphed to murder.
I wanted death.
I wanted to become death.
I want to make them pay.
I want them in pieces.
I want to wring their fucking necks—
“How’s she doing?” Q asked softly, studying my face and no doubt seeing fury bubbling beneath my skin.
In the dusky clouds, the wispy shape of a gemstone appeared. A perfect stone ready to glitter for some sadistic creep. I shook my head as all my festering fears pounced. All those split seconds when Victor haunted my thoughts.
Turning to him, I rolled my arm, my cast growing claustrophobic with healing. “Are you sure Victor’s dead?”
He scowled. “Very. Why?”
“What about the other guests that visited? Have you tracked them down?”
He nodded and fished a cell phone out of his back pocket. Tapping in his key code—in full view to memorise—he navigated through a bunch of files and opened a document, then passed it to me.
Taking it, I scrolled through the list of names.
An endless list of names.
Addresses, phone numbers, even some medical records.
“What’s this column?” I tapped the one to the far right.
“The clubs.” He crossed his arms. “Traffickers and rapists enjoy their smoke-and-dagger shit.” Glancing at the screen, he curled his upper lip. “Roscolo is in Norway. I believe there were thirty members last time we checked. They’re next.”
“Next?”
He smirked. “I made a promise to Tess that I’d never put myself in undue danger, but…I also made a promise to myself to exterminate those who don’t deserve air so…they’re next.”
Whip-hot violence coiled through me.
I was…jealous.
Jealous of whoever delivered the killing blow to those motherfucking bastards who deserved it.
Scanning the file again, I stopped at a number of names with The Jewelry Box listed beside them. “You haven’t killed them all yet?”
“Franco is working on tracking the final few down. Once we’ve marked them all, then we’ll act. Some fled. Some are in hiding now that they’ve heard what happened to Victor. But they’ll pop back up. They always do.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he exhaled. “That isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I fisted the phone, my eyes snapping to his at the change in his voice. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Ilyana Sharma.”
I went deathly still. “What about her?”
“The doctor has advised that it might be prudent to…” He sighed and squeezed the back of his neck. “He advised that certain processes should be followed. Just in case.”
My throat closed. “Certain processes?”
He frowned. “Twenty days is a long time, Henri. It goes without saying, I will continue to do whatever I can to bring her back to you, but…I’m also not such a romantic to believe true love fixes all.”
His phone almost cracked in my hand I fisted so hard. “Would you speak so callously if this was your wife unable to wake?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I’d either be drunk or committing murder.”
“And if she died?”
“I have a child.”
I laughed coldly. “If you expect me to believe that you wouldn’t try to follow her, even with other responsibilities, you’re—”
“I hope for both your sakes that she wakes. I truly do, but—”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“Shut up and let me finish,” he snapped. “I know how you feel, and I know this is hard but—”
“You don’t know a fucking thing about me!”
“I know you’d probably throw yourself off this roof if it meant you could trade her life for yours.”
“If you know that then it was risky bringing me up here.”
“We needed privacy.”
I crossed my arms, trembling with rage. “I’m going back to her.” Turning on the ball of my foot, I stalked toward the exit. My bare feet ached against the cold stone. My jeans and black hoodie barely kept out the winter’s bite.
“Do they know about you? Do they know what you did? How you were involved?”
I stiffened and turned back to face him. “What are you talking about?”
Stepping toward me, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ily’s parents. Do they know who you are?”
I glowered at him. “Why?”
“Her parents and brother are flying in tomorrow. I’m sending my plane to collect them.”