Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Her expression dimmed. “Was it bad?”
“You were lucky.” It ground from between my teeth. How close it’d been.
Warily, she glanced around like she was terrified of the answer. “Is he…”
“Gone.”
She nodded, both in relief and fear.
The rage I’d been holding on to pulsed in my veins, and I leaned forward, gripping her hand in both of mine. “Did he…did he hurt you while he had you?”
Her throat bobbed when she swallowed. “No. I mean, I tried to fight them when they took me, and someone bashed me on the head to shut me up. Other than that, no.”
At least that was a consolation. Had been terrified of what I hadn’t known. Of what she’d gone through during that day he’d held her prisoner.
“I’m so sorry,” I forced out, barely managing the words.
Distrust and confusion and something that looked like a plea flashed through her gaze, and she withdrew her hand from mine.
My heart crashed against my ribs.
Because she was looking at me the way I’d known she always would when she finally saw who I was.
With fear.
Like the monster I’d warned her I was.
She looked away for a beat before she returned her fierce gaze to me, those blue eyes flashing with intensity. “Was it you who hurt Bobby? Was it you, Milo? Tell me it wasn’t you,” she begged.
Grief cut through the atmosphere.
It hadn’t been confirmed yet, but I knew, and I was sure Tessa knew, too, that Stefan had gotten to him.
It was clear that my involvement with Tessa had led him back to her brother.
“There are some things you need to know, Tessa.”
She blinked at me when I sat there, not sure how to confess it.
“Just tell me, Milo, tell me what happened to Bobby. I need to know.”
I gathered her hand again, that nasty habit that I couldn’t shake, and I forced myself to begin.
FORTY-SIX
MILO
FIVE YEARS AGO
Milo stared at the man who lay facedown as the shouts of the corrupt reverberated against the block walls.
“End him. End him!”
That voice echoed in his ear. Because this time? It’s him or it’s you.
Everything spun.
The room. His mind. The hatred that burned through his veins.
But this hatred was no longer for himself. And he would no longer give voice to the violence that he thought never could be sated.
It was for a man who’d preyed on his pain, one who’d twisted it into something disgusting, one who’d made him betray his wife.
The one who’d crawled down from his wicked throne to witness the brutality firsthand.
One who was asking him to do the unthinkable.
Fine, then the unthinkable, it was.
Before anyone could prepare themselves, Milo spun and flung himself over the ropes. He rushed for the two assholes standing guard at Stefan’s side.
He was behind the first before the man could even shout, his neck snapped, flat on the ground.
The second came at him with a knife.
He threw a kick to his wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor. The guard dove for it, but Milo got to it first, grabbing it and spinning around and slashing it across his throat.
Blood gushed.
Gore.
He turned to look for Stefan, who’d disappeared in the moments it’d taken Milo to end his guards.
Deviants scattered through the basement, roaches that fled while Milo stalked back through the mass of them, striking down any bastard who came his way.
He wanted only one.
Only Stefan was gone, running like the pussy Milo had always known he was. His power was born of manipulation and money and the twisted fucks who knelt at his feet.
Except all those men were now dead.
Milo swiped the blood splattered on his face with the back of his hand, and he moved back to the ring.
He hoisted up the man who was still out, tossed him over his shoulder, and jogged with him down the hall. He only diverted long enough to grab his bag that held his keys, then he hurried up the stairs.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, a thrashing, driving force. It was the only thing that gave him the strength to carry him out.
At the top, Milo busted out the door. Darkness was thick, shadows rushing on all sides, and Milo jogged into the cover of the trees where he laid the man on the ground.
The man they called Immortal stirred and moaned.
He cracked open an eye, fear rustling through him before he slumped back when he found Milo looking at him.
“You didn’t need to save me… I’m already a dead man.”
Milo blew out a ragged sigh. “Yeah, well, not on my watch. Why’d he set you up?”
Immortal stared at the underside of the trees. “Because this shit isn’t right, and someone needs to stop him. Clearly, he found out that’s what I was trying to do.”
Milo glanced down at him, his heart still jackhammering in his chest, trying to gather his thoughts, to process what he’d done and where it was going to lead.