Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
He tried and failed to get away, his entire body trembling. I tossed the broken limb away and rose, watching as he flailed pathetically pushing against the floor with his good arm. I brought my dress shoe down between his shoulder blades. Hard.
His chest hit the hardwood with a nice little thunk, the impact driving the air from his lungs as he flattened under my weight.
“You guys are having all the fun,” Thorne sighed, his voice tinged with a pout.
“You’ll get your turn,” Lucian promised.
I turned my attention to the rest of the room. Jason and Liza were out cold, and Daniella was still in Romeo’s grip, her terror palpable. Her wide eyes darted between us, looking for some escape, some mercy where there was none to be found.
“Kristy,” Lucian called to get her attention, his tone calm but commanding. “Help get these three tied up in the dining room.”
KJ didn’t hesitate. She skipped into the living room, her gloved hands reaching down to grab Jason by the hair. Despite his limp weight, she dragged him effortlessly, humming a tune to herself.
Romeo shook Daniella. “Do I tie her up too?”
“Didn’t she say she wanted to fuck you? Maybe let her live out the fantasy.”
He canted his head, pretending to think it over. “What do you think?” he asked her, his voice mockingly sweet as he leaned in closer.
“Should I play with you? We all saw how you rode that tiny dick last night. It was very…theatrical. On top of the dining table was a bit much, though.”
She glared at him, refusing to let her fear fully show. “Fuck you.”
Romeo laughed. “Oh, I like it when they’re like this. The false bravado really makes a difference.”
“Let’s go get the sisters,” I said, my voice low, almost bored. There was no rush. Not when everything was already in motion and we knew exactly how this was going to play out.
“Help Kristy,” Lucian directed at Atlas as a scream of "No!" rang out upstairs, followed by the unmistakable crash of glass shattering. None of us paused or cared to investigate.
My girl was trapped below me. Scared. Pissed off. Vulnerable.
That’s exactly how I needed her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The basement door slammed shut behind us, the sound ringing in my ears like a death knell. My chest heaved, panic clawing at my insides as I tried to make sense of what the fuck was happening.
Daniella’s scream pierced the air. It wasn’t just a cry for help, it was raw, visceral, and filled with a terror that made my blood run cold. Cherish locked the basement door, her hands shaking as she twisted the pathetic lock in place. “They’ve got her,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They’ve got fucking everyone.”
From the sound of things, we weren’t far behind. I didn’t say that aloud, knowing it would do us no good. My sister ushered me down the stairs. I took in the room, noting that there wasn’t anything that would help us.
“What do we do?” My voice came out much stronger than I felt at the moment.
Cherish didn’t answer right away. She scanned the dimly lit room, her sharp eyes darting from the pool table in the center, the sofa against the wall, to the small windows barred with iron grates near the ceiling. We were trapped, and we both knew it.
“First, we make a weapon,” she said, moving to the sofa. She grabbed a decorative, ripping the case free with quick, desperate movements. “If they come down here, we’re not going without a fight.”
She turned and began loading pool balls into the pillowcase, her hands working fast despite the fear etched into her features. The clinking of the balls against one another was almost deafening in the suffocating quiet of the basement.
The sound of footsteps above us sent fresh waves of panic through me. The thuds were erratic, moving from one end of the house to the other. Occasionally, something crashed—a chair? A table? I couldn’t tell.
My stomach churned as I pictured what they could be going through.
“I’m so sorry,” I rasped.
My sister looked at me with a glare. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because this is Wilder.” I started to pace. “And Liza was right.”
“You’re not blaming yourself for what this sick, twisted asshole and his friends are doing to us, Autumn.”
I didn’t argue the point, but this was on me and there wasn’t anything she could say to change that. “The masks they’re wearing match the one you shoved in the closet.”
She began to reply, hesitating, her gaze darting to the ceiling as another scream echoed down to us. “So this is some kind of planned revenge? If he’s doing this for you, why not just—” She stopped herself, her expression darkening. “This is fucked.”
I didn’t know what conclusion she’d just come to, and I wasn’t going to ask.