Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
My fucking father. That bastard, that son of a bitch. He set me up. I don’t know why he would do this to his own son. His own flesh and blood.
Feet smash into my body, and then I’m being dragged. Someone throws me into the helicopter and then the world is dropping away.
Blackness overwhelms me as I’m knocked unconscious from the butt of a gun slamming against my temple.
Chapter 24
Grace
* * *
Gio better let me out of this damn room. I color in the sketch, shading it. I love this one. He’s going to love it, too. I keep looking to the door. He’s late tonight. He told me he would be, but I still don’t like it.
I only get to see him. I miss… I miss variety, I think. I tried to explain it to him earlier. I need to get out of here. Soon. He always says soon. But I need a timeline. I love being his princess, his submissive, his… his everything. That’s the way he makes me feel, and I love it. But I need to get out of this damn room.
I put the pencil down and hold the paper away from me. It’s beautiful. In my periphery, I see the cage. It looks so small now. It’s odd, how before it didn’t seem to be. But I can’t imagine going back in.
I turn to look toward the door as I hear Gio coming. My forehead pinches as I move to kneel for him. We always start the nights with training. It’s basically foreplay for me now. I place my hands on my thighs, and my pussy clenches waiting for him. But there’s something wrong. The footsteps sound… different. I jolt as something bangs on the door.
My heartbeat races with worry. Gio?
I hear a muffled voice, and then another. That’s not Gio. My blood runs cold, and I scramble off the bed. Someone’s here. The banging has stopped, but I hear them punching in a code. It won’t work. Only Gio can open that door. I walk backward, my eyes on the door, wide with anxiety.
My throat closes, and I struggle to breathe. Where’s my Gio?
I almost run to the cage, as if hiding would save me, but it won’t. Nothing will save me. If these men are here, it means something bad happened to Gio. I know he wouldn’t let them near me without a fight.
My chest tightens, and I look around the room for anything that can be used as a weapon. My easel. I run toward it, holding my breath. I nearly scream as a large thud on the door accompanied by shouting makes my body freeze with fear.
I crack the easel over my leg, and then split the large stick of wood into two. The edges are jagged. I hold both tightly in my hands, feeling the wood dig into my palms. I wait, moving back and forth on my heels, but I don’t want to stand out here in the open. I have nowhere to hide though. I look under the bed, but it wouldn’t give me much room to fight. Instead, I move to the bathroom and hide behind the tiny edge of the doorframe.
My heart races with anxiety. I close my eyes tightly, praying for Gio to come.
* * *
I cover my mouth with a sob and drop the one weapon as I realize he could be dead. My father. He’s come for me! He better not have killed him. Not Gio. I can’t bear the thought.
No!
No! Gio! I can’t go back to my father and that wretched life. I won’t. As the thought resonates through me, the door smashes open and the sound of several men coming into the room echoes off the walls. A large cloud of dust and smoke billows into the room, and I can barely make out the men. My heart sinks, and I slide down the wall, my fingers searching for the weapons I dropped in my panic.
I barely feel the tips of the wood with my fingers and I grab them with a force that nearly snaps them in two. I slide up the wall, waiting as deep voices speak in Italian. The smoke and dust is beginning to settle. Over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears, I can’t make out a damn thing they’re saying. Not that I’d understand, anyway.
As the footsteps come closer, I prepare to strike. At least one person is going to die. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to leave.
The irony of the situation settles heavy on my shoulders. I couldn’t wait to leave, but now all I want to do is stay. A shadow slowly creeps into the room.
I hold my breath, raising the stakes and as soon as the first boot lands on the tile, I turn and put all my weight into the blow.