Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
The room shot silent.
I froze solid.
Horror at what I’d just done compounded with lead weights, making me sink, sink, sink with fear.
Tony’s mouth gaped as his watery gaze gawked. “Holy shit.”
Master A’s eyes literally popped from his head. He spluttered in livid disgust, “Get the fuck out of the way, Pim. I’ll deal with you later.”
My shoulders squared, not caring my naked form would offer no protection. There’d been no one to stand up for me. I would die. But at least the sad cycle would be over.
The terror at what I’d live through rolled my spine as I fought the urge to step away and obey. I didn’t know why I stood up for a man twice my size with so many more skills at staying alive than me.
But I did.
It was my last attempt at being Tasmin before Pimlico was gone.
Don’t shoot him.
Let him go.
Mr. Prest yanked me back and behind him, wrapping his naked arm around me. “She’s confused. I ordered her to protect me if you fucking barged in.” His fingers dug into my skin. “Don’t hurt her for a command I gave.”
You’re lying.
He’s trying to protect you.
“Oh, she’ll be hurt all right. Don’t you worry about that. All you need to worry about is getting your fucking ass out of my house. Right now!” Master A’s finger teased the trigger, pointing directly at Mr. Prest’s tattoo. Cocking his head at the mess Tony had made of the door, he yelled, “I want you out!”
“It’s not dawn.”
“Don’t care.”
“She’s mine until I go.”
“Wrong.” Master A’s hand whitened around the gun. “She’s mine, asshole. I won’t ask again.”
Mr. Prest didn’t budge. He just crossed his arms.
I tiptoed from behind him, wanting to be in position to either run or kneel—needing to do something to cease this tense situation.
Master A changed tactics. His blue eyes smiled cruelly as he swung the gun’s muzzle from the interloper to me.
I stiffened.
“You have something I want, Mr. Prest. Count yourself fucking lucky because if you didn’t, I would’ve shot you the moment you took my Pimlico. However, wanting something is your issue, too.”
I gasped as everything blackened with impending murder.
The sinister hole where a bullet would fire hypnotised me. I couldn’t look away.
If this were the most humane way it would end, so be it. I’d had my first proper kiss. I’d been treated well for the first time in years. If this was the epilogue on my awful, awful story, I was fine with that.
My muscles relaxed, ready to accept the tearing, lacerating, excruciating lead.
Please, let it be a clean shot.
“You want this whore.” Master A waggled the weapon. “You want her enough to keep her alive. I’ll gladly fucking kill her if it makes you obey our deal.”
Do it.
Get it over with.
Mr. Prest’s face turned monstrous. “You’d kill your own slave rather than give me a few more hours?”
“Absolutely.” His reply was instantaneous. “So, what’s it gonna be? Her or you. I’ve been tolerant enough. She needs a fucking shower to rid your filth and then a reminder who she belongs to.”
Just shoot me.
I didn’t want a reminder. I didn’t want anyone touching me ever again.
Mr. Prest glowered. “You’re a cunt.”
Master A bared his teeth. “What’s it gonna be?”
“You won’t do it.”
“I won’t?” His forehead furrowed with rage. “You want me to fucking prove it?”
He’ll do it.
Maybe, that was Mr. Prest’s plan? To have me shot so he could walk away, knowing I wouldn’t suffer anymore? He said he wouldn’t care about my treatment—that we all had personal demons to bear.
It was merciful to dispatch me this way.
Master A stomped toward me and fisted my hair, jerking me close. “Let’s see how much she bleeds, shall we?”
Mr. Prest took a step, forgetting himself as fury coated his features. “Get your hands off her.”
The cool threat of death lodged against my temple as Master A grunted, “My patience is done.” He stabbed me harder with the gun.
The tang of metal shot up my nose.
“Say goodbye to the whore. Keep your fucking yacht, I don’t—”
“Stop!” Mr. Prest dropped his arms, splaying his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill her.” His gaze locked on mine, full of livid acrimony and apology. “You’ve just made the worst mistake of your life, Alrik Åsbjörn.”
The gun twisted against my head. The round bruise numbed my skull where a bullet would ricochet and end me.
“Wrong, Elder. You did. Give me what I want—what I motherfucking paid for—and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
Mr. Prest laughed. The sound landed aggressively on the floor, smoking with icy mirth and arctic promises. “Fourth time you used my name.” Storming forward, he snapped, “You’ve just fucked me off, Alrik and that is not a good thing to fucking do.”
Swiping his blazer and t-shirt from the carpet, he gave me a look. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could watch you die. But I won’t. Your life is yours and I won’t meddle in it anymore.”