Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Just how far was he capable of going when vengeance gave him the freedom to be the worst kind of monster?
But I’m sure he didn’t mean to keep him alive this long, right?
He hadn’t planned on dying the same night.
He probably only wanted to prolong Drake’s torture for a few hours, and then would’ve released him from his misery.
“I need your permission to kill him.”
I whipped to face the mercenary. “But Sully should be the one—”
“Sinclair might never wake up.”
I winced. A flush of horror and pure hate toward the mercenary for even suggesting such a thing, followed swiftly by painful acceptance.
That was true.
He might never wake up.
And Drake was not allowed to fall asleep.
Two brothers trapped in a hell of different makings.
I sighed, instantly regretting my inhale as I breathed in Drake’s stench. “I agree that Drake needs to be free of whatever—”
Drake suddenly screamed. A high-pitched shriek that sent nails down my spine. He jerked as if something bit him. He sobbed as if the worst pain imaginable devoured him bone by bone.
“See what I mean? Those screams are getting on all our nerves.” The mercenary shuddered. “We did what Sinclair asked but, enough is enough.”
Drake had done unspeakable things.
He’d been the reason Sully fell from a helicopter, why he was now in a coma, and why so many innocent animals were dead.
I cursed Drake’s every existence, but the mercenary was right.
Enough was enough.
Sully might not wake up for days...or he might not wake up at all.
Either way, Drake had paid his karma, and it was done.
Eyeing up the Euphoria boxes strewn on the floor, spying the abandoned sensors that enabled a user to step foot into a world that didn’t exist, I was tempted to step into Drake’s illusion to see what Sully had done.
What sort of power did Sully wield with VR to ensure Drake jerked and defecated himself, moaning and pleading in a voice that’d long since stopped making sense?
Was it smart to know the darkest parts of the man I’d given my soul to?
Or was it a decision that would break us apart?
If I entered Euphoria and saw exactly what Sully had conjured, I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to forgive or forget.
It wasn’t the smell or the sorrow of the room. It wasn’t Drake’s patheticness or his plight. It was self-preservation. Selfishness to continue loving a man who had never lied about who he was. Who lived in black and white, who dabbled in both dark and light with no apology.
I’d always known Euphoria was the most dangerous thing Sully could create. Any drugs cooked by his lab could never compete with the terrifying potential of a virtual reality that could turn a man into a vegetable.
Ironic, perhaps?
Serendipitous that mankind was ultimately just a mindless organism if the brain could be broken.
“Miss?” the mercenary murmured. “Your decision. Are you willing to speak on Mr. Sinclair’s behalf and give me the order to kill this man?”
My nausea faded.
My exhaustion of the past few days vanished.
And I accepted that I’d just transcended from a goddess Sully had bought and fallen for into his irreproachable equal.
I hadn’t requested to share his power. I had no intention of ruling his empire with his ruthless fist, but I had been given ultimate control.
Strangers who didn’t know how Sully and I had met had accepted something I still had yet to believe.
I’m not just his anymore.
He’s mine.
And what was his belonged to me, too.
Until the moment Sully opened his eyes, I was in charge, and that was a heady, heavy crown to wear.
The mercenary never looked away from me, waiting for my decree. He watched me for my leadership, and I struggled to step into Sully’s shoes.
I had no intention of dethroning him...merely supporting him.
He’d given me his trust and his heart, and when he woke up, the decisions I made on his behalf would have to be acceptable.
I have to keep him safe.
Straightening my spine, I nodded once. “On behalf of Sullivan Sinclair, I request you kill Drake Sinclair. I believe that that was Sully’s intention all along before circumstances prevented him from doing so.”
The mercenary nodded in relief. “Thank you.” Marching to a gun resting innocuously on an ancient sideboard, he screwed on a silencer attachment and pointed at the door. “Leave, please. I’ll drive you back to the hospital once I’m done.”
I shivered and looked at the exit.
It would be wise to leave.
Smart not to have a graphic murder blatant in my mind.
But I needed to know for sure that Drake was no longer breathing. I needed it for my own peace of mind, and to be able to look Sully in the eyes when he woke.
I needed to be able to vow that Drake could never hurt us again. That I’d witnessed his extermination.