“Your life was going to be blessed,” Gabriel told me. “All the money and pussy you could ever want, and all you had to do was follow a simple instruction.” His voice was eerily calm. “It wasn’t even that hard.”
He stood up, and the muscles in my shoulders stretched with someone holding my wrists behind me.
“I should’ve shipped your ass to Blackchurch ages ago,” he said. “We can lock you up still, though, can’t we? Give you some time to think.”
And then his hand smacked across my face, the sting something I was very used to. I gritted my teeth together.
“And I have all the time in the world,” he threatened.
No.
What the fuck did he mean?
“Maybe in a few weeks you’ll come around,” he mused. And then to his men, “Bring him.”
A few weeks. What the fuck?
They stood me up, barefoot and shirtless, and tightened a zip tie behind my back.
Everyone started to walk out, and I looked over at Crane, jerking my chin, knowing he knew I was referring to Winter and the dog and that he needed to take care of things.
But as everyone left, and the man behind me held on to me, an arm suddenly coming around my neck as the guy in back of me whispered in my ear.
“An eye for an eye, motherfucker,” he said.
And then a pain hit my side under my ribs, digging into my flesh as some kind of small blade pierced my skin.
I grunted, immediately feeling the blood drip out as I shot my gaze over my shoulder, seeing the asshole who did it.
Miles Anderson.
The guy who had Winter in his car when she was sixteen. The guy who also attacked Rika the same Devil’s Night I did.
Fuck. He worked for my father now?
“A few weeks,” he lamented, “more than enough time for us to find her and have some fun.”
I thrashed, growling as the pain seared my skin.
“She’s been fun to mess with these past couple of weeks,” he said. “As we waited for Gabriel to give us the go-ahead anyway.”
“Motherfucker,” I muttered, seething.
It was him, fondling her in the theater bathroom. Him and his buddies who snuck into the house that morning.
We should’ve taken so much more than a tooth from his skull all those years ago, son of a bitch.
But before I had a chance to fight, he came around and shot his knee into my stomach, sending me doubling over and coughing to catch my breath. He stuffed something into my mouth, forced me out the door, and into the back of one of the SUVs as I tried to whip out of his hold, but pain shot through me every fucking time I moved.
Ironically, that wasn’t the first time I’d been stabbed on that same side. This felt deeper, though.
I hit the floor, coughing, and I looked around for my father, but he must’ve been in another car.
As the SUV took off, I just prayed Michael and Rika would come through.
Keep her safe. Don’t leave her alone.
I stumbled around my old bedroom, throwing open curtains and peering outside. I tried to open the windows, but they were bolted shut.