Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Let’s see what has my brother’s dick so enthralled he’s ready to throw it all away,” he growled as he started ripping at the layers of lace, silk, and tulle.
I screamed with everything I had, just as another crack of lightning hit outside.
“Go ahead, scream.” Jameson laughed, pressing his body to mine. “No one will hear you.”
A shock of terror tore through me as his hands found skin. “Now, am I going to take this traitorous cunt or maybe I should fuck your ass. At least your last fuck will be a good one.”
I heard his zipper slide down and I snapped. I fought. I shoved back against the desk with everything I had, screaming until my throat tore.
Jameson grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and slammed me back down on the desk. The breath was punched out of my lungs, and the room swayed around me. My vision blurred.
Just as he kicked my legs apart, the door flew open and another crack of lightning lit the room.
Pierce stood there in his tux, his eyes wild, his fists clenched at his sides.
He charged in and shoved Jameson off me.
The two brothers fell to the floor and started fighting.
Then Greyson was there, his arms around my waist as he pulled me out of the room into the hall.
“No! Pierce needs me; he needs help!”
“No, he doesn’t,” Greyson said between clenched teeth. “He needs you safe. Let him handle Jameson.”
A gunshot went off and another scream ripped from my lungs as I fell to my knees as Greyson bolted back into the room while shouting over his shoulder, “Don’t move.”
I wrapped my arms around my middle and rocked back and forth. I was too horrified at what that shot could mean to even think of disobeying his order. “Pierce, no!”
I couldn’t lose him.
Not now. Not when I’d only just realized how much I needed him.
CHAPTER 62
PIERCE
Ihad just grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it to the side before he fired.
Pain shot through my head as a loud ringing drowned out everything.
Jameson came at me again, eyes wild, his fists raised. I took the hits. As much as my little brother was a fuckup, the man knew how to throw a punch.
This wasn’t about money anymore.
It wasn’t about our legacy.
It wasn’t about our name.
The only thing I gave a fuck about was the fear in Madison’s eyes. The way he tore at her clothes and the things he was about to do to the woman I loved.
Lightning struck, and a window on the far side of the room shattered, and as Jameson looked to see what happened, I had my chance. One hit straight to the gut to make him double over, and then another to the jaw to throw him off me. I rolled over on top of him, and I didn’t stop.
Greyson pulled me off him. “If you kill him, you go down for murder. Then who’s going to protect Madison?”
I spat and struggled against Greyson’s arms while Jameson got to his feet.
His shirt was soaked with blood and more leaked from a cut in his brow and from the corner of his mouth as he stared at me, grinning, his teeth bathed in red.
“This is your fault. This has always been your fucking fault. You stole everything from me. I was supposed to be the oldest. I was supposed to be first. You took my inheritance, the family business, all the money and then you took my woman.”
“I fucking earned it,” I yelled back. “It was supposed to be ours, but you were too busy being lazy and entitled to work for it—like I did. And Madison—Madison is mine. She has always been mine. She was never yours.”
I shrugged Greyson off and took a step back. “Get him out of my sight.” Our father’s last words to Jameson, exactly.
Jameson tore free of Greyson's grip before the words were fully out of my mouth.
He screamed and lunged at me.
I tried to move, but Jameson expected it and knocked me behind the desk.
I could hear Greyson and Jameson struggling. But I was done. My brother was never going to stop. He would keep coming at us even if he was in prison, until he had succeeded in killing me which would leave Madison vulnerable. I swore never to let that happen again.
I reached into the drawer, pulled out the revolver and pointed it at Jameson.
He laughed. “What are you going to do…kill me? What will to happen to the precious family name and fortune then?”
Jameson shifted his weight—just enough—and I adjusted my aim.
He couldn’t know that I didn’t give a damn about any of that anymore.
This wasn’t about the Worthington name or fortune. Caring too much had led to a life filled with the constant hunger for more while never feeling sated. A soulless vacuum of empty ambition. I wanted more from life now. More meaning. More emotion. More life.