Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“Less than a minute. Impressive.” Jude’s voice echoes around me, but he’s far from being the center of my attention.
I blink, still trying to focus, to hold on to that anchor, but the drug drags me under again.
My body’s fighting me, my thoughts drifting away like sand through my fingers. I barely register the cold ice-blue of his eyes landing on me. There’s no warmth there, no softness.
Just a lethal edge that sends a shiver through the room.
My chest heaves, my mind muddling between the need to escape and the pull of his presence. His gaze flickers over me, taking in everything—the way I’m pinned down, the glazed look that must be in my eyes, and my helplessness seeping from every pore.
He shows no emotion as he tilts his head, focusing on the hands grabbing my legs.
I open my mouth, trying to say something—his name, maybe—but nothing comes out.
The men freeze, no doubt feeling the threat that simmers beneath Kane’s calm exterior. A crackle of electricity lights up in the air as Kane’s posture subtly shifts and he snatches one of the men’s wrists, then twists it.
It doesn’t look that forceful, but the man screams.
Kane’s voice resonates with a rich, low timbre. “I already made it clear, didn’t I? Which part of no one touches my fucking things do you not understand?”
“We didn’t know… Fuck!” the shorter guy screams as a pop reverberates through the air.
He broke his arm—or wrist. The guy’s howl bounces off the walls and rings in my ears.
The other guy dashes toward the exit, but Jude seizes him by the collar of his shirt with ease. “Not so fast.”
The one with the broken wrist falls to the floor, still screaming, but Kane stands behind him, grabs his left arm, and twists.
Pop.
His scream rings in the air, chilling, like something from a horror movie.
And it keeps intensifying as Kane kicks him in the nuts and crushes them with his shoe.
The man’s mask falls, revealing someone I’ve never seen before. His face is red and his haphazard blond hair covers his forehead.
He curls up on the floor in a fetal position, wailing and crying.
Kane stands over him, his shadow still, his posture uptight. “Next time you touch what’s mine, your whole body will be in a casket.”
My eyes are barely open, but I see him walking to the guy Jude’s holding. “Now, your turn.”
He catches his arm. “Who gave you permission to touch what’s mine?”
“I can’t tell… I’ll be kicked out—”
“You’ll be kicked out anyway.”
The pop echoes in the air. A gut-wrenching scream follows.
“Let’s try again.” Kane secures his other arm. “Who orchestrated this?”
“If I tell you, will you keep me on?”
“No. But whether you leave with your limbs intact or not depends on your next words.”
“It was Preston—”
He hasn’t even finished talking when Kane breaks his arm.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me!” the man screams.
“Changed my mind.” He kicks him as Jude holds him upright.
I try to hold on to that sliver of the scene in front of me, but my body is slipping, falling into a fog. My vision blurs, dark spots dance in front of me, and my breath comes out in ragged, desperate gasps.
Finally, I let myself lose the fight to stay conscious.
As my world turns black, I come to a disturbing realization.
I trust a monster like Kane to keep me safe.
15
KANE
My vision is red.
My vision is never red.
Ever since Jude called and told me he witnessed suspicious activity in the parking lot, my mood has taken a sharp dive.
After the game, I was already driving up the Hill for a meeting with Grant’s closest directors in the company. I’ve mastered pretending to do my bidding in the business I’ll inherit, but in reality, this is a way to build my connections and strip my father of his stronghold.
After Jude’s call, I made a U-turn and barely offered excuses for my absence from the meeting I spent weeks arranging.
It doesn’t matter that earlier tonight, I had this illogical need to strangle Dahlia because she was flirting with her fucking ex at my game.
While wearing my jersey.
With my name on her back.
That perplexing fire still burns my lungs, but it’s drowned out by the rage that clouds my vision with a crimson haze.
I’m about to break every bone in the bodies of the motherfuckers who had the audacity to touch what’s mine.
And I don’t resort to violence. I don’t even like violence.
In fact, I consider violent people—aside from Jude—weaklings with little to no brain capacity.
Yet the need to smash the two bastards’ heads in beats beneath my skin like a need.
An urge.
This is beginning to feel too much like an impulse.
“I’ll finish the job.” Jude throws the wailing scum on the floor as if he were excess baggage, then motions behind me. “She’s out.”
My gaze flickers toward her, and for the first time tonight, the red slowly retreats as Dahlia comes into focus.