Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
All that mattered was that she got away.
Except, of course, she didn’t.
Because not a few seconds later, she was being led back in. This time with a gun to her temple. Held there by Berat.
“That’s enough of that,” he said, sounding irritated. “Get control over this,” he demanded, speaking to Deniz and the pawnshop owner, his tone brooking no argument.
The hopelessness built in my system as I realized we were outnumbered and outgunned.
We were going to be taken.
And there didn’t seem to be a single thing we could do about it.
My arms were yanked behind my back by Deniz as the pawnshop guy slapped duct tape over my mouth hard enough that I would bet the skin beneath was bright red from the impact.
Next, the tape was wound around my wrists over and over, so tight that I was worried about the circulation until I reminded myself that was the least of my concerns right then.
If there had been any curiosity about how the hell the Polats were going to get my sister and I out of the building bound and gagged in broad daylight, well, they disappeared as we found ourselves suddenly wearing giant men’s zip-up sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up to cover our faces.
I got the typical, “If you make so much as a squeak, I will make you watch me do terrible things to your sister.” And I was sure Alara had gotten the same speech, silencing the both of us as we were led out the back of the building and into the backseat of a blackout town car much like the one Eren had once ridden around in.
Driver and all.
Which meant the Polats and the pawnshop guy were all in the back with us.
Somehow, I would have preferred the trunk.
Alone but for my sister.
My gaze went to hers, but I found her staring with blind hatred at the Polats.
I had to get her out of this.
I had no idea how.
But I did.
I wasn’t worried about me.
I’d endured a lot of shit in my past. I knew I could handle whatever they had in mind for me.
But Alara?
No.
I couldn’t let her be subjected to any of that.
I just had to be smart. Stall as much as possible. Draw their ire toward me.
Because, eventually, Brio was going to figure out what was going on.
Hell, even if he had no idea what was going on, he was going to head in the direction of the Polats by default.
I just had to try to deescalate the situation until he found us.
Then, well, then he could escalate things to whatever psycho level he wanted.
I wanted ringside seats.
And fucking popcorn.
“Stop fucking staring at me,” Deniz snapped when Alara continued to stare at him, practically unblinking.
Who was this girl?
No.
Not a girl.
Maybe that was the difference I was seeing.
This wasn’t the little seventeen-year-old I’d said goodbye to a year and a half ago.
Sure, she had the same hazel eyes, a shade darker than mine. And the same soft, feminine features. The same gorgeous hair. The same petite, compact, curvy frame.
But something fundamental had changed within her in the time that I’d been away.
It was no wonder.
Given that she was still watching our mom suffering, still suffering herself.
Who knew how many times she’d needed to face Berat and Deniz in the living room, listening to them threaten them about making their payments. The payments that were supposed to go away after I married Eren.
All of that torment, all of it, for nothing. Fucking nothing.
Yeah, it was no wonder she seemed to be a pot simmering with rage, threatening to boil over at any moment, leaving third-degree burns in her wake.
A part of me almost wanted to see it, and was proud that she hadn’t allowed the hardship to break her.
The other part, the one that was the protective big sister, was heartbroken that she had to take on that anger, that she’d had to let it change her.
I wished I could get a moment alone with her to explain that someone was going to come for us.
No.
Not just someone.
A verifiable psychopath.
One I was pretty sure I was falling in love with.
Maybe we would get a chance whenever we got where we were going.
Until then, I guess her rage was keeping her sane.
I swear, if that girl somehow got her hands free and any sort of weapon between them, there was no telling how horrific the damage was that she could inflict.
The drive felt like it dragged on forever, and I started to lose track of the twists and turns and backtracking until, suddenly, the car was stopping.
Outside of a brick building with scaffolding out front.
My eyes were drawn away from the building itself and to the sign hanging off the scaffolding.
Coming Soon: Restaurant 1969!
That was sort of poetic, wasn’t it? Taking me to, what, kill me in the very business they’d been trying to steal from me.