Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Fear erupts through my body, and the weight of her betrayal brings tears to my eyes. I try to blink them away, not wanting her to see me cry. She’s already proved back in Missouri that she doesn’t care if I live or die. She tried to use our relationship against me, and unfortunately for her, that backfired, but I’m not about to let her try it again.
This is not the Aunt Liv I once knew. This is Zade’s mother—a vile, twisted leech who needs to be put down.
She wears a fancy pantsuit and high heels, looking like the CEO about to dominate a boardroom, and I watch her closely, taking note of every step, the same way Easton does. Only instead of betrayal flashing in his eyes, there’s nothing but pure disdain, probably remembering the little boy he once knew suffering through the loss of his mother.
She makes her way across the room until she’s standing right in front of me, and even though she settles her chair facing mine, she remains standing, looking down on me as every eye in the room focuses heavily on us.
“I’m glad you could join us, Oakley,” she purrs, her voice cold and calculating, so different from the one I once knew and loved. “You’ve certainly put up a good fight over these past few months, but now your time has come to say goodbye.”
“Quit the fucking act. I know you’re not my aunt, and I know you don’t give a shit if I live or die, so why even bother pretending?”
“You’re right,” she says, allowing the coldness in her eyes to shift into something even more chilling. She takes a seat, fiddling with the revolver in her hand and emptying six bullets into her palm. “I suppose old habits die hard. I’m so used to having to cater to you and your insignificant problems.”
“Why bother? You should have just left me. I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Tsk tsk. This is my show, and I’ll be the one controlling the narrative,” she says, lifting her finger and waving at me in the universal sign for shut the fuck up. “Now, this is how this is going to go. You’re going to die, Oakley. Right here and now. There’s no escaping this. Your death has been on the cards since the day your father was locked up and realized his potential to take leadership. It’s written in the stars. There are no hard feelings, my darling. This is purely business.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane if you think I’m the one dying today.”
“What did I say?” she demands. “This is my show. You will have your chance to ask questions. As for now, you will shut up and listen.”
I swallow hard and do as she asks, more than aware that she’s the one with the upper hand here. “You and I are going to play a little game,” she continues. “For old time’s sake. I know how you like to play, but I’ve always played by your rules. Tonight, Oakley, you will play by mine. Understand me, if you behave, we can do this humanely, but mess with me, and this little game might be over a lot sooner than either of us could have anticipated.”
I watch as she inserts one bullet into the revolver and then spins the chamber, then in a flash of lightning, she raises her arm, aims right between my eyes and pulls the trigger.
CLICK!
I scream, my whole body jolting with fear as Easton roars in fear. He fights off his captor and gets to his feet, racing toward Zade’s mom, but Santos steps in with a taser and brings my hero to his knees.
He convulses on the ground beside me, and I cry out, desperately trying to reach for him, only with my wrists bound at my back, neither of us are going anywhere. “I’m okay,” I tell him, the clicking sound of the empty shot something that will forever haunt me. “I’m okay.”
Santos releases him from the electrical current, and Easton lets out a heavy breath on the ground beside me. I meet his eye for just a moment before the guys in black tactical uniforms drag him back to the edge of the room.
“Oh God, that was a rush!” she says, demanding my attention, and as I turn back to her, I find her inserting a second bullet. “I’m sure you must have some questions for me,” she states as though we were casually sitting around the dining table with a pizza on a Saturday evening.
“No shit.”
“Tsk tsk,” she says. “Watch your language. I understand our predicament perfectly well, but that does not mean that I did not raise you to be a lady.”
“A lady? You raised me to be an easy target.”
She shrugs her shoulders, spinning the chamber again. “Possibly.”