Shackled (Wicked Vows #5) Read Online Jane Henry

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Wicked Vows Series by Jane Henry
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
<<<<12341222>83
Advertisement


“Who’s there?” The deep male voice booms in the quiet woods. My heart stops for a split second.

Fuck.

I stand still and pull my hoodie over my head, sidestepping so I’m hidden behind a huge tree trunk. My heart beats faster. Did they send people here ahead of time? They have never brought guards to the warehouse before.

Maybe they’re getting wary.

My breathing’s shallow as footsteps approach. Thankfully, my vision is excellent, even with the hoodie pulled tight. My hand tightens around my knife as I zoom in on my target. I don’t need to kill any of their guards. Not yet, anyway. I just need to incapacitate and possibly maim.

He comes within ten yards but scans around and shakes his head. Is he alone? I take out the tiny pair of night vision goggles I brought and peek through them. Must be a new recruit. He looks young and scared enough to shit his pants.

Ah, Romanovs, why did you make it this easy for me? I thought we’d be a good match.

He turns away from me and heads back to the warehouse. Green light.

The back of the warehouse is camera-free, with no entrances. But for me, I welcome the challenge. It’s perfect.

I scale the side of the building using a rusty drainpipe and ledges. My fingers grip tightly, my body tense with the possibility of being seen. I’m in the zone when I’m climbing, mentally placing my feet and hands into positions I can’t see.

A thrill races through me when I reach the topmost window, partially opened on the second floor, the hinges rusted. It’s far away from the main patrol paths or any surveillance equipment. Since they use this place rarely, they haven’t really secured it as heavily as their residences. I never would’ve dreamed of trying to infiltrate one of their private homes.

I carefully pry the window open and slide inside just as the beam of a flashlight illuminates the leaf-covered ground below. My heart leaps into my throat. I crouch down, peering from the edge of the window as the useless guard walks past, leans against the wall, and pulls out his phone.

When I get into a place of leadership in this family—and I fucking will—I’m going to fire that lazy son of a bitch. When my breathing slows and he’s gone, it’s time.

The door to this vacant room is locked. Good. Thought this would be boring. I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t pick any locks today. With practiced ease, I do my magic and pick the lock in less than a minute.

Tsk, tsk. Really, boys, a bit of a challenge would be nice.

I move quietly down the dim hallway, testing every footfall for creaky floorboards. I ease myself into shadows in case someone came in here unseen until I find a shadowy loft area right above the main floor. I quickly climb the ladder. It’s a perfect vantage point to observe them without being seen.

I mean, I could’ve done something a bit safer, I guess. Planted a bug, maybe. But Jesus, what’s the fun in that? This is late night, the entire surrounding cast in shadows illuminated only by moonlight—it’s eerie, tense, and dangerous. My favorite.

I settle into my hiding spot. I’ve got a few hours before they arrive, but my heart still hammers in my chest. I’ve waited so long for this. The entire trajectory of my life is at stake.

I lean back against the wall. It smells a bit musty in here, with the lingering scent of motor oil and metal. It reminds me of hard work and manual labor. No one would ever suspect what they really do in a place like this. Only me, maybe. It wouldn’t take much imagination for me to figure out exactly what sort of double-crossing, traitorous losers and enemies they bring here to torture and interrogate. I would know. Torture was my father’s speciality and is still my brother’s favorite sport.

I close my eyes and think ahead, beyond where I am. They say visualization is the key to leaning into a goal, for really making shit happen. If that’s true, I have got it made since I can already imagine what it feels like to give orders, to snap my fingers and watch grown men cow to me. I can already hear the respect in their voices and feel the surge of power coursing through my veins when they call me their queen.

I’m pulled out of my reverie when I remember my father’s cold, disapproving eyes. He would kill me for what I’m about to do.

Literally.

It’s half the damn reason I’m here. I frown at my hands and pick at a recalcitrant cuticle. I trimmed my nails and removed the blood-red polish for my disguise.

"Si pudieras verme ahora, padre."

If you could see me now.

To my father, women were a means to an end. A lower class of citizens, useless in his quest for domination, save their ability to provide offspring. I knew from a very young age I was viewed as less than because of my status as female. My brother Javier, on the other hand, was much more highly valued.


Advertisement

<<<<12341222>83

Advertisement