Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I caught Medusa moving in the corner of my eye, seeing her try to get up but struggling to do so. When I looked at her fully, I realized her leg was broken, but she was still trying to protect me. Still growling. Still fighting the agony she must feel everywhere. Then she started to limp toward us.
My assailant pulled out his gun and aimed it at her.
“Wait, wait, she’ll stop.” I made the hand gesture I’d seen Constantine make last week. Some kind of sign that told her to heel.
Her growls quieted and she lay back down, but she continued to bare her teeth like she couldn’t suppress her rage.
“She’s not a problem. Just leave her alone.”
He lowered the gun and gave me his full attention. “You do realize I’m going to shove my dick in your ass, torture you, and then kill you in the most painful way possible . . . and you care about a fucking dog?”
I inhaled a sharp breath and couldn’t hide the terror that gripped my windpipe and didn’t let go. I knew I was in trouble, but I’d been in trouble before with Pierre and his crew. Though, this . . . this was something else. “I’ll go without a fight. Just let her go.”
“Does it look like I’m worried about a fight?” He slipped the gun into the back of his jeans. “Drop the gun and let’s go.”
I could try to shoot him again—and not miss.
He stared me down. “You’re out. But go ahead and try it. Every bullet you pump into me, your dog will get two.”
Maybe most people wouldn’t prioritize a dog over themselves, but she was more than a dog to me. She was one of us, making us a family of three. I’d never had a dog before, but I’d gotten used to her so quickly, napping on the couch with her even though she was way too big to fit. And the way Constantine loved her was the sweetest thing.
So I dropped the gun.
He moved over to me fast, grabbing me by the arm and shoving me forward like I would fight him the whole way. He tugged me hard like he wanted to rip my shoulder out of the socket. He flung me so hard that I fell to the floor. I wanted to scream in terror, but I kept my mouth shut and bottled it inside.
Then I finally felt a surge of hope when I heard what one of his men said.
“Constantine is here.” He was one of four men who held an automatic rifle.
The man who’d thrown me didn’t seem displeased by that information. He sauntered toward where I’d fallen in the corridor. “Good. Tell him to come alone or his whore dies.” He continued to pace slowly, a mammoth of a man, muscles big and thick like Constantine’s. Dressed in all black and laced-up boots, he paced across the rug.
I stayed on the floor, trying to be as invisible as possible.
When I looked back through the door, I saw Medusa limping toward me, still trying to get to me.
Tears flooded my eyes at the sight of her still trying.
I tightened my hand into a fist the way Constantine had done, trying to keep her alive and out of the fight. I mouthed, “Heel.”
She stopped again, lay flat, and rested her broken leg.
We just had to hold on a little longer . . . until Constantine got here.
He would get us out of this.
I knew he would.
The man continued to pace slowly, the men remained alert, and then after what felt like an eternity, the sound of quick footsteps grew louder.
I knew Constantine.
He rounded the corner, then came to a stop at the end of the corridor, surveying the scene—me on the floor, Medusa hurt, the four guys with guns who would shoot our brains out if we moved wrong, and him.
The asshole who wanted us dead.
I had no idea what thoughts passed through Constantine’s head, but he looked pissed.
Then he started down the corridor again, appearing unarmed, the only armor he wore his clothes and the muscle underneath.
I had no idea how he’d save us, but I believed he would.
The man who’d captured me stopped his pacing and stared him down as he approached. “You really think I’d start a civil war? You’re dumb like your brother. All that pussy turning your brains into scrambled eggs. Well, my boot turned his into scrambled eggs, I guess.”
Now I knew who he was—the Skull King.
Constantine kept his eyes on him, but he moved toward me.
“Whoa, slow down, Con.” He took a step and moved between us, blocking Constantine’s path.
Medusa gave a quiet whine as she looked at Constantine.
Constantine didn’t look at her. Didn’t seem to hear her. Then he made a fist and put it against his chest—silently telling me to be brave.