Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Swinging my head around, I see Letti. She pulls over next to me and jumps out of her car.
“Marie messaged me. Are you okay?” she says, concerned.
I can’t remember more than three words I’ve ever spoken to this woman, but I have never been more thankful in my life to see her face, and I hope she won’t hurt me.
“Come. I have a spare bed. Please, I need to clean those wrists up.” Letti reaches for me, and I pull away from her. She then puts her hands up to show she has nothing in them and means me no harm. “I’m sorry. I just want to help. Do you have somewhere else to go? Someone I can perhaps call?”
My sister? No, I don’t want to call her.
“Should we go to the police?” she asks, and I shake my head. If the police rocked up to his house, he would for sure show the video of Savannah.
“No,” I reply.
“Okay, it’s just me in a small apartment. It’s not much, but it is home.” She shrugs. “I have a spare room. You could always stay there until you find somewhere.”
Her offer is so kind—I’m not used to good people.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I think you need it. I mean, I could be wrong, but you have this lost look in your eyes, and when I didn’t see you this week at the clubhouse, I asked around.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and she offers me the kindest smile.
I wonder if this is how it feels to have someone care about you.
Someone with no ulterior motives and under no conditions.
Chapter 12
Milo
“What use is a finger if you cut it off?”
It’s now been three weeks since I’ve seen her. The second week, Cody made excuses, and I knew he was fucking lying. She isn’t my wife, so it’s not my job to question the choices of her husband, but fuck, I sure as shit want to put my fist through his face.
“Do you plan to just sit there?” Morris asks Aiden, who is watching with wide eyes as Morris cuts off a guy’s finger while the guy’s screams fill the shed.
“No, no.” Aiden rushes over. He’s wearing gloves, the kind hairdressers use, and his face is pale. Morris lifts the finger he chopped off and holds it out to him.
“You do know what to do with this, don’t you?” Morris raises a brow at Aiden. I hear a chuckle and turn around to see Axe walk in. I’m tall, but Axe has my six foot-three beat. He’s close to seven feet.
“You’re back,” Morris yells to him.
Axe sits next to me and ignores Morris. “It’s a mess,” he says to me. “You made a mess. And I cleaned it up.”
“Good.” I turn back to see Aiden start to sway as he holds the finger.
Axe is our enforcer, and he was off cleaning up a mess that I may or may not have made. If you’d just met him, you would think he’s one scary motherfucker. And while he is that, he is also one of the calmest-headed guys I have ever met.
When I want to go off the deep end, he tries to pull me back. Even if I don’t listen half the time, and when I don’t listen, he will join me. He’s loyal—as good to me as Morris is.
When my father died and I took over, I killed two of his men. They said I wasn’t fit for this life, that I would ruin everything they worked so hard to build. Then I went and made it better, with better men.
My father’s men were disloyal, stealing products and money whenever they could. Doing deals on the side that didn’t benefit the club.
Everything we do now benefits the club.
We don’t just run the biggest drugs racket in this city; we run the biggest in the fucking state. We also own many businesses in this shithole of a town that I grew up in. I know most people by name. And if I don’t? Well, they aren’t worthy of my fucking time. But then again, no one is.
“I think he’s about to faint,” Axe says, and I lift my head to see Aiden sway even more. “Should we make a bet?” Axe yells out to Morris.
“No, fucker, he’s about to go down,” Morris says, pointing at Aiden.
“I am not…” Aiden trails off just before he falls. We all stand there watching as he drops to the floor. The dealer in Morris’s chair is passed out cold—pain does that to you when it’s too much to handle. Obviously, it was too much for him.
“Where has your little bird been?” Axe asks, looking at me.
“How would you know she hasn’t been around? You’ve been gone for weeks,” I say.
Then it hits me. “Mason,” I mumble, and he nods.
Screams echo through the shed, and we all look at the man tied to the chair as he thrashes about like a fucking idiot. Like that will get him anywhere.