Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
And you’d think with a family like the Windsors, her disappearance would’ve been on every major news source in the country.
But the elites made damn sure Blair’s parents were kept in the dark, all the while Blair believed her family has been worried sick searching for her.
As far as her parents know, she’s in New York. With Damien Snow. Exactly where she’s supposed to be.
The SUV is almost out of sight now, swallowed by highway traffic.
“He’s talking about us. The Elite Council knows you’re the one who took her,” Cal updates. “They know Rook took Kylie. They’re offering a million dollars for each of our heads to any gofer who can track us down.”
That should put me on edge, but I don’t give a shit about any of it right now. “What about Blair?”
“He’s taking her to New York. To Damien.” Cal’s expression hardens. “They have plans…”
My jaw ticks. “What plans?”
Cal doesn’t answer right away, and I get up in his face. “What fucking plans, Cal?”
“They plan to use whatever means possible to get information out of her. About us. About you,” Cal says, and his voice comes out so ragged I know there’s more he’s not saying—I imagine it has a lot to do with what happens when she’s no longer an asset. “And she’s out.”
“Out? What does that mean?”
“He gave her something,” Cal says, his eyes searching mine in concern. “He gave her something to knock her out.”
He. Drugged. Her.
He fucking drugged her!
My chest constricts brutally, and rage flows through my body like a tidal wave. But the fury doesn’t explode. It condenses. It settles. It sharpens like a fucking knife.
I turn toward the highway. “I’m going to New York.”
Cal doesn’t argue because he knows I don’t have a choice. He knows I will do anything to save her. And he knows that my next move involves killing whoever the fuck stands in my way.
I step forward, already calculating routes, distance, entry points.
They have no idea what they just set in motion.
I’m either leaving New York with Blair, or I’ll die trying. But if it’s the second, I won’t do it without killing every single motherfucker I can before I go.
Blair
Marble is the first thing I see when I open my eyes, a contrast to a room full of wood in every way.
White marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and expensive works of art hanging on the wall. There’s even an ornate fireplace sitting directly across from me.
The entire wall to my right is completely glass, showcasing a breathtaking city view of skyscrapers.
I’m in New York.
I’ve been to this city too many times not to recognize it instantly.
My head throbs and my mouth is dry, and there’s a strange metallic taste in the back of my throat. I work to push myself up to a sitting position. I’m in a cushy king-sized bed, surrounded by a soft, fluffy gold comforter and too many pillows to count.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember is sitting in Holland’s Escalade. He handed me some water to drink, and then everything just went black.
Did I fall asleep?
I swing my legs off the bed, and my eyes continue to take inventory of the room. It’s large and pristine with modern art and glass tables and an impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Everything is curated and expensive, and it looks exactly like what I’ve been raised around my entire life. It’s the opposite of the cabin. And nothing like Kane’s simple bedroom.
And it feels incredibly unsafe.
“Hello?” I call out. “Holland? Mom? Dad?”
My voice sounds tiny in the open space.
But it doesn’t take long before the door opens, and Damien Snow walks in. He’s wearing a perfect suit, his body showcased with perfect posture, and a perfectly controlled smile on his lips. He’s exactly as I expected he’d be—and somehow as opposite of perfect as opposite can be.
“Hello, Blair,” he greets.
“How did I get here?” I question. “I know Holland picked me up, but I don’t remember anything after that.”
“You fell asleep. He carried you in.”
My eyes go wide. “He carried me in?”
Damien nods, but I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “You need to take a shower. Get in some fresh clothes. I have everything you need.”
I glance down and quickly realize I’m still covered in dry mud. I’m still wearing Kane’s T-shirt and sweatpants. But I don’t give a shit about my clothes or a shower right now.
“Where are my parents?” I ask. “Holland said they were in New York. Are they staying here with you?”
“They’re fine,” he says smoothly. “They went back to Boston.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“They didn’t need to stay,” he replies. “Everything was handled.”
Handled? My head pulses harder.
“Where is Holland?”
“He left.”
I glance around the room again. The marble. The skyline. The art. It’s everything I’ve always known. Everything that’s supposed to mean stability.