Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I thought Holden was tall, but this man is a mountain.
Not a gentle one.
Greying black hair, oddly angled nose like it’s been repeatedly broken, sharp dark-blue eyes that lock on me like an eagle.
Brute muscles straining under his suit. A field of small, pockmarked scars on one cheek crawling up from his beard. Damaged skin like he was in a fire once or had something scalded poured on his face.
Serial killer vibes. There’s something cold and inhuman in the way he moves. He has what looks like a radio clenched in his fingers.
“Easy now, girl,” he says with a thick Eastern European accent.
The charcoal suit he’s wearing doesn’t quite fit him right. It’s tailored to his frame yet still looks out of place, like someone put a collar on an untamed wolf.
I swallow thickly.
Fairfax and Talbot shrink back at the sight of him, their faces going red. My lungs barely work and they feel so dry. I have to will myself to keep breathing.
There’s no gun visible, just the radio. But who knows?
“Who… who are you?” I grind out.
“Old friend of Fairfax’s. He owed me.” His eyes stay flat and hard when he smiles.
I’ve never seen eyes like this before, such unblinking ice fields.
I’m not sure he even needs a gun to kill me.
And for the first time, I notice there are no cameras on the ceiling here.
Oh God.
“Stay still,” he clips when I stir restlessly. “Kindly place the briefcase on the table and this will all be over soon. You will leave this place alive.”
I don’t know if I believe him.
I’m definitely not ready to give up PopPop’s legacy, the last precious thing he ever trusted me with.
Anger roils my blood, and I stare at this man-eating ogre for what feels like an hour.
“J-Jesus, just listen to him!” Talbot’s voice breaks the silence. “Don’t be stupid, Miss Blackthorn, for God’s sake. You know the risks. He’s extremely dangerous, and so are his men. Take my word for it.”
“Da, he is right.” The giant shrugs, like this detail isn’t important. “Rest assured I have no particular interest in you, Cleopatra. Nothing but your treasure.” He nods his sharp chin at me. “Put it down. Now.”
My hands tremble.
Talbot’s composure implodes.
“P-please!” he spits, sobbing brokenly. “The cops, they’ll… they’ll never reach my house in time. My whole family dies if you don’t do it.”
“He’s right. You don’t know what he’s capable of,” Fairfax says with that same icy desperation. “Viktor Guchkov, leader of the Black Talon group. He manages a crew of highly skilled foreign mercenaries. Miss Blackthorn, believe me when I say I’d stand with you if there were any other options. There aren’t. He has us cornered. He has my—” He swallows hard.
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.
His son.
I’ve never been so uncomfortable with three sets of eyes on me. I don’t even know why it’s so important I fork it over. Obviously, he could snatch it from me right now if he wanted.
Guchkov controls the room quietly.
No force necessary, just the promise of violence.
That much power must be addictive. I can see why he’d keep throwing himself back into dangerous robberies despite the damage on his face.
He basks in his dominance, watching us with a small Satanic smile. I idly wonder if he cares more about scaring people than the money.
But the longer I stare, his smile drops.
He quirks a dark eyebrow and reaches into his pocket. “Move, little girl. I am running out of patience.”
I bristle at little girl, but my attention locks on the slight bulge in his pocket.
Yep, there’s our gun.
Of course. No brawler like him walks into a museum back office to steal a priceless artifact without packing firepower.
Ideally, he’d love to do this without violence. Without anyone getting huffy and throwing a fit and making noise that might just bleed through these dense walls.
Power drunk guys like him never know their limit.
He knows how terrified Fairfax and Talbot are, and he’s relishing it, but it just isn’t enough.
I’m sure he can smell my fear.
I have to fight to avoid locking up entirely. I feel the way my fingers quiver around the briefcase again.
And I have one chance.
Everything hangs on what I do next.
What I decide to do.
Talbot’s chin wobbles. He’s down to his last thread of sanity, about to go berserk if I resist.
Every passing second is torment, and some people are stronger than others.
I sigh brutally and look down. “Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Talbot’s shoulders sag with relief.
Fairfax stares at me with quiet, cool desperation.
I feel for them. I really do.
I can just picture their families, breathless and terrified, trapped by armed men in dark places.
I imagine Talbot’s wife and daughter, their wrists wrapped in duct tape, makeshift gags stuffed into their mouths. Their horror, potent and deadly.
Masked men guarding them with guns.