Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
He groans, blood pouring from the wound as the other dude continues gurgling, or maybe he’s choking. I’m not really sure. Either way, it’s kind of alarming how I’m not freaking out about this. Death should terrify me. It should make me uneasy, especially when experiencing this level of brutal violence, yet all I want to do is ride my man until my spleen falls out.
God. What is wrong with me?
Stone starts walking across the room, looking like a certifiable badass, and I follow his lead, wishing I’d worn something a little more appropriate for the occasion. I want to hit those sexy assassin vibes. But not Halloween kind of sexy, with the leather mini skirt and my tits hanging out, more like Tomb Raider.
Lux tries to crawl away, and I’ve got to give him credit for trying. He has that fighting spirit, but so did we when his men hung us from chains and beat us.
Stone moves right into him, crouching down, and Lux looks back at Stone, knowing his time has come. “This is gonna hurt a little,” Stone says just moments before grasping the hilt of the blade protruding from the back of his knee and using it to drag him across the floor.
My eyes widen. That’s a new one. I can’t say I’ve ever seen something so creative. Most people would have just grabbed him by the leg, but not Stone. If there’s an opportunity to inflict pain, he’ll take it with both hands.
Lux screams in agony as the blade tears everything within his knee. I can’t lie, the thought of that pain makes me queasy, but I’m still here for it. He should be grateful the floor is vinyl, and that he slides across it with ease, because it would suck more if this were carpet.
Stone doesn’t stop until Lux is in the center of the room, then he reaches back and grabs a chair, settling it in an open space. With one fluid motion, he yanks Lux up off the floor and into the chair, and I watch with anticipation, having no idea what’s coming next.
“Duct tape, Menace,” he says, pointing toward the array of things we brought along.
I jump into action, grabbing the tape, and just to be helpful, I take the job into my own hands, stepping forward and taping the fucker to the chair. “This is going to be really fun,” I tell Lux, accidentally on purpose knocking the hilt of the blade every time I pass it, the sounds of his pained groans like music to my ears.
Once Lux is secured in the chair, he fires off all the usual threats about how we’re going to pay for this. Stone grabs a huge metal crowbar and hands it to me.
“What—”
He moves in beside me, placing my hands on the end of the crowbar like a baseball bat. “Take what you need and don’t hold back. Picture the burns on your body. The fear when you were in that basement. The terror you felt while trying to save me. You make him pay. But remember, our time is limited, so give it your all. Make every swing count.”
I swallow hard, my heart starting to race, and as I remember the way his men beat me with a crowbar just like this, I find myself moving toward him, and without an ounce of hesitation, I swing as hard as I can.
I take and I take, making him pay for everything I’ve lost, everything I’ve endured. I smash the bar across his jaw for the eight months spent in a coma. I hit him for the agony I felt as my skin started to melt off me. I swing for the seven years I lost. For the brother he corrupted and stole from us. For the gun at my temple. For every one of Stone’s broken ribs.
Over and over, I don’t hold back, even when exhaustion creeps in. My swings start to lack any sort of direction, and I cry out, tears springing from my eyes as blood splatters across the room. Only when I start to collapse does Stone step in behind me and take the crowbar out of my cramped fingers, bracing one strong arm around my waist.
“That’s enough,” he rumbles, and the moment the weight of the bar is lifted from my hands, a feeling of overwhelming peace settles in my chest. It’s over. I’ve taken what I need. But not Stone—he’s not nearly done. As the crowbar clatters against the tile, he picks up a small canister and pours out a clear liquid around the room.
Lux watches Stone through swollen eyes, not having the strength to even spit a threat.
Stone reaches into his pocket, pulling out the last Polaroid that he’s held close every day for seven years. As he steps up to Lux, he tears the blade out of his knee, presses the Polaroid to his chest, and then pins it there, letting it sink all the way to the hilt.