Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
The battery indicator flashes red—20 percent remaining after multiple attempts to reach security cameras from the limited connection inside the cell. No responses to my texts. No indication she’s received them.
This isn’t right.
Lilian is many things—stubborn, unpredictable, increasingly defiant—but she isn’t cruel. Wouldn’t leave us locked up this long without checking in, without food or water, without some indication of her intentions.
Something’s wrong.
I pace faster now, mind racing through possibilities, each worse than the last. Did she leave the warehouse entirely? Get lost in the industrial district after dark? Has someone else found her—the backers, Hayes family security, some random predator?
The thought sends ice through my veins.
Across the cell, Aries watches me with growing attention, sensing the shift in my concern. He’s maintained his silence for hours, retreating into whatever internal world he occupies during captivity. But now his eyes track my movements with renewed focus, noting the increasing frequency with which I check my phone.
“Something’s wrong,” I finally say aloud, breaking the hours-long silence. The admission costs me—showing concern in front of him, revealing a vulnerability he’ll undoubtedly exploit.
But concern for Lilian outweighs tactical considerations. Outweighs pride. Outweighs the careful walls I’ve built between myself and anything resembling human attachment.
Aries straightens, chains shifting with the movement. “What do you mean?”
“Lilian.” I gesture toward the door, the world beyond our shared cage. “She should have come back by now. It’s been almost seven hours.”
“Maybe she left,” he suggests, but without the mocking edge from earlier. “Decided we weren’t worth the trouble.”
I shake my head. “She wouldn’t leave like that. Not without...” I trail off, realizing I’m about to reveal too much.
“Not without saying goodbye,” Aries finishes, voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Not without making sure we weren’t going to kill each other.”
The observation surprises me—not just that he’d complete my thought, but that he’d understand her character well enough to do so accurately. It shouldn’t surprise me, though. He’s known her for years. Has watched her grow from adolescence to adulthood, has been the object of her affection far longer than I’ve been in the picture.
“She has the key card,” I say, more to myself than to him. “The only access point to this cell. If something happened to her—”
“We’re stuck,” Aries concludes, the implication settling heavily between us.
For the first time since our childhood, we share a moment of perfect understanding—mutual concern overriding mutual hatred, if only briefly.
“When did you last see her on the cameras?” Aries asks, nodding toward my phone.
The question is practical, focused, devoid of his usual antagonism. It creates a disorienting sense of déjà vu—reminiscent of how we once were, before everything shattered. Two parts of the same tactical mind, approaching a problem from complementary angles.
“The feeds cut out around 5:30,” I admit reluctantly. “She was heading toward the side exit. Needed air, she said.”
“The side exit leads directly to the loading dock,” Aries says, leaning forward as much as his restraints allow. “Completely exposed to the access road. Anyone passing by would see her.”
His tone has shifted entirely—the provocateur replaced by the strategist I remember from childhood. His eyes are sharp, focused, all mockery set aside in favor of addressing this new threat.
“You’re worried about what…your backers,” he observes, reading my expression with uncomfortable accuracy. “You had to have someone backing this operation. Someone who has more of an interest in bringing down the family, not just little ole me.”
I hesitate before nodding. No point in denying what he’s already deduced. “They’ve approached her before. Warned her. Used her to send me messages about staying on schedule.”
“Fuck.” The single word contains volumes of understanding. “And you’re off schedule now, aren’t you? With me still alive. With whatever revenge you planned delayed by this...” He gestures to the cell around us. “Unexpected development.”
The assessment is accurate enough that I don’t bother confirming it. Instead, I turn to more pressing concerns.
“Is there any way out of this cell that I don’t know about?” Aries asks, chains clinking as he shifts to study the walls, ceiling, and floor. “Something you built in as a fail-safe?”
I eye him with suspicion. Sharing security details means giving him information he could use against me later—assuming we get out of this situation.
But if something has happened to Lilian...
“No other exits from the cell itself,” I say finally. “I designed it that way deliberately. One way in, one way out. Controlled access only.”
“What about the ventilation system?” He nods toward the ceiling vent. “Size, access points, where it leads?”
“Too small,” I dismiss. “Twelve-inch diameter. Even if we could reach it, neither of us would fit.”
“The door mechanism itself? Override protocols, manual releases?”
I shake my head. “Only from the outside. Or from the main security station upstairs.”
“Which we can’t access because we’re in here,” he concludes, frustration evident in his voice. “What about your phone? Can you call someone? Get help?”