by Eden Summers
Her throat works over a heavy swallow, her pulse increasing beneath my fingers.
“What’s wrong?” I lean closer, grazing the stubble of my cheek against hers as I murmur in her ear. “You seem unsettled.”
She doesn’t answer. Not in words. Her continued rigidity is enough of a response.
“You don’t want to marry me, Abri. You don’t want to live with a man who is currently eager to see you suffer.”
Her breathing deepens—long, measured inhales followed by heaving exhales.
“So tell me how I get out of this.” I nuzzle her jaw. “Tell me how to wake your father up to the slaughter he’s approaching.”
She swallows again, remaining quiet.
“I’m convinced you’re a smart woman. But you’ll be a dead one if you continue to play his games.” I claw my fingers, digging nails into flesh.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.” I lean back. “Are there any other men on the property? Any guards? Or security?”
She doesn’t respond.
I squeeze tighter. “Abri?”
“No.” She chokes in a strangled breath. “Nobody else is here.”
“No fucking snipers? Don’t you have another brother somewhere?”
“He’s not here.” She licks her lips in a frantic rush. “Nobody else is, either. It’s just us.”
I can’t figure out if she’s telling the truth. She seems panicked enough not to lie, but that could be an act, too. “What does your father have planned if I deny him?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m losing patience,” I growl. “That doesn’t work in your favor.”
She lowers her attention to stare at my chest. “I swear—”
“Look me in the fucking eye when you talk to me.” I release her neck and grasp her chin, demanding compliance. “Give me the respect I deserve.”
Her attention gradually raises to mine, the sparkling blue gleaming back at me with vehemence.
“Dear ol’ dad hasn’t come to save you yet. Why is that?”
Her nostrils flare, her jaw ticking.
I’ve hit a nerve.
This is what I’ve been digging for. The anger. The bitter truth in her emotions.
“Tell me, Abri, if he’s watching, why hasn’t he run to your rescue?”
She struggles over her answer, her lips tight before she admits, “He can’t hear what you’re saying. He can only watch. He probably thinks your attention is a good sign.”
“You don’t think your discomfort is obvious?”
She glares her hatred, but it doesn’t seem aimed at me. My guess is that her animosity is toward the man leaving her in danger.
“He doesn’t give a shit about me,” she grates through clenched teeth. “He never has. I’m an asset to him and nothing else.”
Perfect. So fucking perfect. “Then why maintain this charade?”
She plasters her mouth shut, holding her answer hostage.
“Come on now. Why are you shy all of a sudden?” I dig my fingers harder into her chin, making her grimace. “Tell me why you’re playing along.”
“You’re a way out.” She unsuccessfully attempts to tug her head away.
“Of what?”
“This hell.” Strength enters her tone. “He controls everything I do. Who I speak to. When I work. My goddamn money. He acts as if he’s doing me a favor by choreographing my life, but all I am is a commodity in some sick game.”
She’s convincing, yet she’s also a manipulative actress.
“And your brothers?”
“They’re biding their time until they can take over the family estate.”
I release her, allowing her to inch back a little. “Then tell me what he’s attempting to achieve with this marriage and I’ll help you.”
She blinks as if startled by my offer. “I have no idea.”
“Yeah, you do. Maybe not directly, but you would’ve heard something. You’d have a fucking clue.”
“I’d only be guessing.”
“Then fucking guess.”
Her mouth opens, her lips working over silent contemplation. “It has to have something to do with my uncles. My dad could be trying to prove a point.”
I tense at the Cappelletti reminder. I don’t want those fuckers anywhere near this. “What point?”
“I don’t know. They always ridicule our side of the family—our business. They think my father is weak. Maybe this has something to do with him showing them he’s more than a fashion label.”
I’m not buying it. There has to be another reason. “What would your father do if you were under threat?”
Her eyes flare, the whites blazing as she pulls away from my grip on her chin. “I have no idea.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me what he’d do if I held you hostage.”
“You don’t have a weapon.”
“Anything can be a weapon when you have a thirst for blood.” I grab her around the back of the neck and pull her toward me. “What would he do, Abri? Would he care enough about your safety to negotiate the release of those kids? Or would he cut and run from his so-called asset?”
There’s a faint crunch of noise outside. The cacophony of cicadas is replaced by the disturbance of pebbles. A car approaches.
“Someone else has arrived.” I narrow my gaze. “Who?”
“It has to be my mother with the kids. As far as I know, she’s the only other person here in Sacramento.”
Apart from those fucking guards.
“Why would she come out here?” I flick my gaze to the open doors leading to the porch before returning my glare to Abri. “What’s going on?”
“My father must think I’ve either convinced you or he’s given up waiting.” She shakes her head. “He said I’d have a few hours. After that…”
“After that, what?” I grab her throat again, my impatience about to detonate.
“I don’t know.” Her expression transforms to a plea. “I swear.”
“Then tell me what he’d do if you were under threat.” I jolt her with a quick shove of my hand. “Now, Abri.”
She whimpers, clutching her hands onto mine to fight against my grip. “If I’m right about my mother being here, he’d do everything he could to protect me. He wouldn’t be careless with my life in front of her.”
Good. That gives me options. Not many, but enough.
I smash my scotch glass against the side table, sending liquid and shards scattering, the sound loud in the silent house.
“Oh, God.” She screams and attempts to scramble off my lap. “Stop. Please.”
I hold tight, demanding her compliance. “Calm down.”
She claws at my wrist, scratching and shoving. “What are you doing?”
“I’m finishing this. I just have to spill a little blood first.”
30
Cole
Claret oozes between my fingers clamped against Abri’s neck as I stand, dragging us both to our feet.
She releases another bone-chilling scream, her heart and soul belting out with the piercing decibels.
“Be quiet, snowflake.” I drag her backward into me, holding her against my chest. I feel her terror in her trembling limbs. Despite her tough act, she’s petrified. “Don’t struggle or this will all be for nothing.”
Footsteps thunder toward us from the porch. A door squeaks somewhere inside the house. Her brothers clamber through the French door entry, guns drawn moments before her father fills the archway from the hall.
All three of them stop in rage-induced panic.
“How valuable is she to you?” I jab a shard of glass toward the exposed side of her throat. “Lower your weapons or I slice the other side, too.”
Emmanuel takes a cautious step forward, raising his hands.
“Stop.” I use his daughter as a shield and dig the shard into her skin, making her whimper. “My hand around her throat is the only thing keeping her from bleeding out.” I relax my grip, proving my point by
allowing the carnage to freely flow down her neck, soaking her blouse.
This time she sobs, her fingers clinging to my wrist. “Please don’t let me die.”
“Everyone relax.” Emmanuel takes another step. “I think we can all agree this has gone too far.”
“Too far?” I ask. “You’ve held me to a disadvantage from the beginning. I’ve merely leveled the playing field.”
“I’ll fucking kill you.” Salvatore keeps his gun trained on me. “If anything happens to her, I’ll make you suffer.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second. But can you achieve greatness before your sister dies of blood loss? Because if it were me, I’d be setting my sights on getting her out of here as soon as possible.”
“Salvo, please.” Abri’s breathing becomes labored. “Do what he says. Call in the helicopter. I need a hospital.”
“It’s done,” Emmanuel growls at me. “I’d already organized our departure. There was no need for this.”
“There was always a need.” I smirk, giving him a healthy dose of flipped history. “You step on my toes and I cut off your feet. You threaten my family and I destroy yours.”
“Enough.” He stands taller. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“I don’t think so. Tell your boys to drop the weapons.”
His jaw ticks as the faint whoop, whoop of a chopper approaches in the distance. He wasn’t lying. At least, not about his departure. I’m well aware he didn’t say shit about whether or not he planned to take the children with him.
“I’m lowering my gun.” Remy leans over, placing the Glock on the floor. His brother reluctantly copies. “Just stay calm.”
“Where’s my niece and brother?” I glance between them, waiting for someone to offer an answer they all seem reluctant to give. “You brought them here, right? You were going to take this excursion to the next level by flying them out of Sacramento.”
“No. This was over.” Emmanuel shakes his head, showing minimal sympathy for his daughter. He doesn’t look at her, not her neck or the threatening glass. He’s more fixated on leveling me with spite. “I never threatened you, son.”
I ignore him and jerk my chin at Remy. “Kick the guns my way. One of you is going to want to get a first-aid kit. The other can retrieve the kids and bring them to me.”
“No,” Emmanuel repeats.
“Please, Dad.” Abri shudders against me. “Do what he says.”
“Let her go first,’ he demands. “Let her come to me.”
I dig the pointy tip of the broken glass into her throat, making her squeal. “I’m afraid your time to manipulate and make demands is finished.” I turn my attention to Salvatore. “Do as I asked before I lose my temper.”
The noise from the chopper increases as everyone remains in place.
They don’t listen.
Don’t move.
I drag the glass down Abri’s neck, lightly, but enough to draw blood.
“You fucking prick.” Remy starts for the porch, doing my bidding.
But Salvatore still doesn’t move. “There’s no fucking first-aid kit here, you piece of shit. We removed anything with scissors or sharp blades before you arrived.”
“That’s too bad.” I shrug. “You might want to take off that shirt then so she’s got something to stem the blood.”
His lip curls in a sneer as he shucks his suit jacket to the floor, then starts on the buttons of his white shirt. “If she so much as loses consciousness, I swear to God—”
“You’ll do what?” I rage. “Endanger my family? You’ll take our children hostage? This is the result of your actions. However this ends is your doing, not mine.”
He yanks off the shirt, his muscles tense, waiting for a chance to strike. He juggles the material in his hands, finding a sleeve, then proceeds to rip it off. “Help her secure this around her neck. Make sure it’s tight.” He throws the makeshift bandage to his sister, his eyes leveled on her in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Please just do what he says,” Abri pleads. “Bring the kids in here.”
“He will not bring those kids.” Emmanuel storms for the French doors now rattling from the whip of outside air. “One of the guards will hand them over at the back of the house yard once my family is already safely in the helicopter.”
“No, Remy will hand them over,” I clarify. “Your two for my two, old man.”
His shoulders straighten in response but he doesn’t say a word before escaping onto the porch. He doesn’t even give a heartfelt farewell to his petrified daughter as he steps into the thrashing air to walk out of view.
Abri wasn’t lying about him after all.
“Let me help you bandage her throat.” Salvatore steps forward.
“Get out of here.” I yank her farther into me. “Make sure your father doesn’t try any shady shit. I’ll be holding you responsible if he does.”
He stares at his sister. At the blood dripping from my fingers.
“Hurry.” Abri clings to the hand at her throat as if struggling to remain upright. “I don’t want to die here.”
His nostrils flare. His father might not care about her, but he does.
“She’ll be fine,” I drawl. “As long as none of you try anything stupid.”
“Give your word that you won’t do anything else to hurt her.” His glare cuts to me. “That once the helicopter leaves the ground, this all ends. No repercussions. No more acts of vengeance.”
No. I won’t.
“Fucking give your word, Torian.” He clenches his fists. “My father will kill those kids—”
“No.” Abri struggles. “He wouldn’t.”
“He’s lost his fucking mind.” He raises his hands to his head, shoving them through his hair. “You know he doesn’t give a shit about you. He’s only complying because our mother is here. He won’t risk her life. Nobody else matters to him.” His arms drop to his sides, his surrender on display as he meets my gaze again, this time without hostility. “Give your word and I’ll make sure to keep him under control.”
I don’t have to give him a damn thing. Not promises. Not protection. Nothing other than pain and suffering.
But those kids are out there somewhere. In the dark. Scared and vulnerable. They don’t deserve to be tortured by another second of delay.
“You have my word.”
His shoulders straighten in response.
“I said, you have my fucking word. Now go.” I jerk my chin at the French doors. “Before your sister runs out of time.”
A second of contemplation passes before he nods. “I’ll get everyone in the helicopter.”
“We’ll be right behind you.” I increase the wattage of my smirk. “Won’t we, snowflake?”
She shudders out a breath and trembles in my hold.
She’s the perfect victim. Her vulnerability is flawless.
“I’m holding you accountable, Torian.” Salvatore trudges to the door. “Don’t fuck this up.” He disappears outside, his footsteps thundering back down the porch, the sound quickly fading under the mass of swirling air.
I wait one second. Two. Then release her throat and turn her toward me. “Give me the shirtsleeve.”
“Are you crazy?” She grabs my wrist, flipping over my hand to inspect the deep gash along my palm. “You’re the one who needs a bandage.”
“Stop fucking around.” I ignore the biting sting of the open wound and focus on her neck. “I need to cut you so they don’t think you were in on this.”
“No.” She retreats, running her fingers over the slight scratch on the other side of her throat. “You’ve already done enough of that. I’ll make up a story later.”
“Get over here. Have you forgotten the cameras? And what motherfucking story are you going to make up?” I start after her, the shard of glass ready in my hand. “I won’t cut deep. Only enough for them to think you believed you were dying.”
“Seriously. No. Just help me with this.” She raises Salvatore’s shirtsleeve and b
egins wrapping it around her neck. “I’ll keep the bandage on until I get to a hospital. If I have to cut myself then I will. There’s no way my dad is out there watching the security feed right now. He’s furious. He probably can’t even see straight.”
“You better be right, otherwise you’re on your own after this.”
We made a deal.
She’d play along with my slice-and-dice act if I vowed to get her away from her family when she decided it was time. But that agreement only holds up if this goes off without a hitch.
“Don’t worry; he bought it.” She inches back toward me and raises her head to allow me access to secure the material around her throat.
“Maybe he did. But we need to finish this before any of them start to question why you’re still conscious.” I place my sliced palm against the spot where her cut carotid is meant to be, letting the blood oozing from my wound seep into the material. “Don’t fuck this up.”
I spin her, reversing her into my chest to drag her toward the porch. I pick up the guns along the way, shoving one into the back of my waistband, out of her reach. The other takes the place of the jagged glass to point against her cheek.
“Do everything I say.” I grasp her throat with my bloodied hand. “One wrong move and you’ll regret it.”
She nods as I lead her outside, the air whipping around us.
Immediately, I feel eyes on me. I don’t see them through the darkness. But they’re there. Watching. Waiting.
“Where are they?” I scan the shadows, unwilling to expose my back until I can see my enemy. The chopper whoops close by, the floodlights from beneath the metal bird illuminating part of the open field up ahead.
“There’s my mother.” Abri tilts her chin a smidge. “At the back of the house yard.”
I squint, scanning the night to find the silhouette of the woman being escorted through the wooden slats of the fence with what looks to be the two guards from the penthouse.
“I told you my father is taking you seriously.” Abri’s voice is barely loud enough for me to hear. “This is working.”
Not good enough though. I want eyes on everyone before I step away from the house. One bullet to the back of the head is all that’s needed to take me out.