Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“What kind of treatment?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Highly specialized,” Richard says, deliberately vague. “But with promising results in preliminary trials. We’ve been trying to reach her to discuss participation options.”
Participation options. Laughable at best. As if she’d have a choice. As if any of us ever had a choice when Richard Hayes decided what was best for the family name, the family legacy.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I say, struggling to maintain the facade of casual concern. “Probably just buried in studies.”
“Perhaps.” Richard doesn’t sound convinced. “Even so, I’d appreciate it if you’d make finding her a priority. Before your trip to Tokyo.”
It’s not a request. Nothing from Richard ever is.
“Of course,” I agree, already calculating how to use this to my advantage. “I’ll reach out to her friends and check her usual spots.”
“Good.” Richard nods, apparently satisfied. “Now, about the acquisition—”
The conversation shifts to business, focusing on numbers, strategies, and corporate maneuvering. I respond on autopilot, drawing on months of research and preparation to play my part convincingly. But my mind is elsewhere—on Lilian and whatever “treatment protocol” the Hayes empire has designed for her.
On the growing certainty that she’s in even more danger than I realized.
Richard talks, and I listen, and all the while my skin crawls with revulsion at being in his presence. At pretending to be the son he kept while carrying the scars of being the son he discarded. At playing along with whatever new cage he’s building for Lilian under the guise of medical care.
They want to trap her, just like they trapped us. The twins. The defective one and the perfect one. Specimens to be studied, controlled, and utilized for any purpose that serves the Hayes legacy.
Not this time. Not her.
The meeting drags on for another hour, an eternity of pretending to be someone I’m not while sitting across from the monster who made me. By the time Richard finally dismisses me, the strain of maintaining the facade has left me raw, exposed, and barely containing the rage simmering just beneath the surface.
I leave the office with the appropriate farewell, the appropriate deference. The perfect son, off to do the family bidding.
The elevator doors close behind me, and finally—finally—I can exhale. Can drop the mask, if only for the brief descent back to the parking garage.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Drew. I answer without speaking.
“We have her.” Drew’s voice is tense but triumphant. “Banged up a little from the fight when they took her, and her fight when they tied her down, and…” He pauses with a slight chuckle. “The fight when she tried to get free.”
Relief crashes through me with such force that my knees nearly buckle. “Let me talk to her.”
“Not possible right now. I’m on the car’s phone, and she’s in the back with Aries. We are heading to the safehouse right now. Sorry to say it’s another shithole warehouse. Now I would love to chitchat, but I gotta make a couple more calls.”
Ice replaces relief, instant and absolute. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we got her out,” Drew snaps. “But we might want to get her checked by a doctor.”
“Address,” I demand, voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Now.”
He hesitates, then rattles off an address.
“If she’s not alive when I get there,” I say, each word a blade, “neither are you.”
I end the call before he can respond, already calculating the fastest route from The Tower to the address. Richard’s words echo in my mind as I stride toward the car. A new treatment protocol. Promising results. Participation options.
All code for control, for manipulation, for turning Lilian into another Hayes experiment.
Over my dead body.
Or more likely, over Richard’s.
The thought brings a grim smile to my face as I slide behind the wheel. Perhaps my original plan wasn’t so far off after all. Possibly Richard Hayes will get exactly what he deserves.
A son returned from the grave to collect on two decades of debt.
SIX
ARIES
This particular warehouse smells like dust, and I swear to God if I never have to see the inside of a warehouse again it will be too fucking soon. I lean against the concrete wall, arms crossed, watching the steady rise and fall of Lilian’s chest through the open doorway.
She’s been unconscious for hours now, lying still on the bed Drew set up for her. It’s almost morning, not that I’ll be able to sleep until she opens her eyes and looks at me. At this point, I just want her to be awake. Hell, I’ll even take a slap across the face for being an asshole. Anything to let me know she’s okay.
Three fucking hours since we pulled her out of that corporate prison after Arson’s backers took her, and I saw the bruises on her wrists and the red mark on her temple. Seeing her like that caused something inside my chest to crack open and start bleeding.