Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Bates kept enjoying his cigar. “She’s got beautiful legs.”
I turned around and gave him a deathly stare. “You want to be the sixth person I execute tonight?”
He grinned before he blew smoke out of his mouth. “Sorry. I won’t disrespect your woman again.”
13
Siena
I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew some serious shit was going on.
Lots of guns. Lots of explosions. Lots of death.
And it was coming to our doorstep.
I listened to Cato and Bates pass my bedroom on their way to the entryway before I changed my clothes and poked my head out the door. The double front doors were wide open, and a ton of his men were stationed outside.
I moved to the center of the balcony so I had a clear view of the roundabout and the fountain. Both men stood there in their suits, their hands in their pockets as they waited for something.
Or someone.
All the men stationed on the property carried assault rifles and wore bulletproof vests. I knew Cato would never allow anyone on the property unless they were under his control, but seeing that many men carrying weapons made me uneasy. It reminded me of the afternoon I was yanked from the car and thrown on the ground. The men prepared for my execution in the same way.
Someone was about to die.
Then a caravan of black SUVs made its way through the gate. One by one, they pulled up to the roundabout and the door was opened. They yanked one man out of each back seat and put him on his knees in front of Cato and Bates.
When the fifth car arrived, they yanked a young woman from the back, about my age, and she was placed on her knees like the rest.
I watched in horror as Cato wordlessly stuck out his hand to one of the men and a pistol was placed in his palm.
He was going to execute each one of them.
I didn’t know if I could watch.
Cato went to the first man and kneeled in front of him. It was impossible to hear what was being said because they were too far away. He was probably questioning them, looking for answers about whatever pissed him off. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he stepped back and pointed the gun at the man’s skull.
Then he pulled the trigger.
The sound of the bullet was so loud it echoed off the walls in the house. It was loud enough to make me jump and scream because it seemed like it happened right beside my ear.
Cato moved on to each one, kneeling in front of them for the conversation, and then rising before he shot them in the head.
I didn’t know why Cato thought they would talk—if they were just going to die anyway.
He moved to the young woman at the end, and she got the exact same treatment. He spoke to her for a few minutes before he stood upright and pointed the gun at her head.
She sobbed. Her words couldn’t be discerned, but it was obvious she was pleading for her life. Tears fell down her cheeks, and she lowered her head because she couldn’t look at the barrel of the gun.
I knew I shouldn’t sympathize with her more just because she was a woman, but I couldn’t help it. She wept and begged, and I couldn’t imagine she did something so horrible to deserve that fate. I didn’t want Cato to do it.
But he did.
He pulled the trigger, the gun went off, and then she was dead on the ground.
The blood from all five corpses ran back to the fountain, streaks of bright red that were visible even in the darkness.
I should have stayed in my room like Cato ordered. It was the only time I wished I’d actually listened to him. Now those images would forever be burned into my brain. I would think about that woman constantly, how she hadn’t been spared of her crime. She could have been a mother. She could have been a daughter. But Cato pulled the trigger anyway.
It made me wonder if he would pull the trigger on me.
I didn’t sleep all night, not after what I witnessed. I was too scared. If I closed my eyes, my dreams would bring me images of torture. I would see that woman in my mind, blood spraying from her skull.
When the sun rose the next morning, I skipped breakfast and stayed on the couch, contemplating what I should do. I’d never been seriously afraid of Cato, but I obviously didn’t understand what he was capable of.
I was pissed at him for whipping me, but I’d gotten off easy.
It was better than being shot in the head.
Sometimes, my nights with him made me want to stay there forever. It made me think raising a family with him would be a wonderful experience. But when I was exposed to his world, I was given a painful reminder of my true situation.