Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
A grin pulls at the corner of my lips. “Wow, you think so highly of yourself. Watch who you’re talking to,” I say with a scoff, mimicking his deep tone. “Here’s how this is going to happen. You’re going to stop with the tough guy act and be fucking real with me. Tell me who you are, what you want with me, why the fuck I was invited to that ball last night, and make it quick. I’ve had just about enough of you and your friends thinking you can come busting into my life, balls to the fucking wall, and start making demands. So please, hurry the fuck up and tell me what I want to know because I’d rather shoot myself through the eye than have to spend another minute here with you.”
His eyes flash with something sinister, and I watch as he reaches behind himself. A gun appears in his hand and he presses it into my chest. “Go ahead then,” he challenges. “Shoot yourself. Because the only way you’ll be getting out of here before I’m through with you is in a body bag.”
The room gets scarily quiet as I take the gun from him, our gazes locked with nothing but a fierce tension between us. The metal is both cold and heavy in my hand, and I realize this is a test.
He knows damn well I’m not about to put a bullet through my head, but what he doesn’t know is just how far I’m willing to take this.
Positioning the gun in my hand, I let my finger slide through and rest on the trigger. My gaze lingers on the gun, taking it in before lifting my eyes back to Zade’s. “You don’t think I’ll do it,” I throw back at him, my tone matching the sinister gaze in his eye.
“I know you won’t.”
Lifting the gun, I raise it to the side of my head, letting him see the crazy in my eyes while noticing the way Cross and Sawyer become extremely still. “Are you willing to bet your life on it?”
Zade doesn’t respond, and the longer I hold his stare, the quicker his face starts to fall. Unease flashes in his eyes, and I let a smirk twist across my lips. I watch as he starts to question himself, wondering if he’s misjudged me, then just to prove my point, I put on the performance of a lifetime, jumping as a sharp gasp escapes through my lips.
His eyes widen, fear paralyzing him and he jolts toward me. “NO!” he roars, reaching for me just moments before realizing his mistake. That fear quickly morphs into rage and he snatches the gun out of my hand as my veins fill with power.
I smirk back at him, smugness consuming me. “Uh-oh. It looks like someone just showed his hand,” I whisper, raising my chin as my chest presses up against his. “You may not give a shit about what happens to me, but after your little performance at the ball last night and your embarrassing act of desperation just now, it’s clear that whatever you need me for, you need me alive.”
Zade grips my chin, that stare of his sending chills down my spine. “I may need you alive,” he admits, “but that doesn’t mean I need you in one fucking piece. Fuck with me again, and I won’t hesitate to make you wish you were dead.”
With that, he releases me and walks away, shoving the gun into the waistband of his pants before balling his hands into fists at his side.
Unease consumes me, and I catch myself against the counter, trying to find a moment to breathe when a body moves in behind me. My back stiffens as Dalton’s familiar scent wraps around me. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns me. “You need to back down before you find yourself in a shallow grave.”
I whip around, not liking the tone in his voice, and come face to face with those blazing blue eyes. “Then tell me what the hell is going on,” I demand, the desperation pulsing through my veins. “Because if you assholes expect me to fall in line and be the perfect little prisoner, then you’re going to have to start offering some answers in return. If my life is at risk, then I need to know so I can better protect myself.”
Dalton watches me a moment before glancing at Cross over my shoulder and then to Sawyer. The three of them seem to have some kind of silent conversation, and just as Dalton lets out a heavy sigh, seemingly ready to give me what I want, Zade comes striding back in.
“We can’t give you the answers you’re looking for, Oakley,” he says, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes.
“Then what can you tell me?”