Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I took a deep breath and pressed against the rough wall. My fingers hurt from clutching my high heel. Maddox was the son of one of the bikers who’d been killed. He must really hate Dad, so I trusted his friendliness even less. So far, I hadn’t tried to think about their revenge plan. It would have only made me more nervous but having a clear overview of what might happen next could mean the difference between escaping here alive or in a coffin.
My pulse quickened at the realization of how close to death I was. All my life a possible threat to my safety had dangled over my head like a Damocles sword, but it had always been abstract, never something palpable I could grasp. Now Dad’s worries had manifested into reality and my annoyance for his insistence to keep me heavily guarded at all times seemed childish and naïve. Maybe it would have been good to prepare me in a similar way like he had Amo, really show me the dangers of our world. Now I was confronted with them with little preparation.
These men wanted my father, but to get him, they would certainly not shy back from hurting me. I’d never suffered a scar in my life. I prayed for the strength to remain dignified even if faced with torture. I wanted to do my family proud. These bikers wanted to sully the name Vitiello, but I’d do my best to thwart them. I had to trust that I had more of my father in me than he ever wanted for me.
I didn’t have any weapons, but one. Amo always said my looks were lethal. I had to hope I could prove him right.
Despite the bone-deep tiredness tugging at my brain, I couldn’t fall asleep, even long after my club brothers had succumbed to their alcohol-induced slumber. Eventually I gave up trying and spent the night on the porch, watching Marcella’s hunched shadow on the hut, sensing that she, too, kept her eyes on me. The occasional owl hoot or a raccoon fight broke the peaceful silence. Only a small part of the reason for my watch was to make sure none of my uncle’s men lay a hand on our captive, especially after Denver acted like a fucking animal and pissed in Marcella’s cage. The other reason was I wanted to find out more about Marcella Vitiello, and through her, about her father. The name Vitiello had haunted my life for so long, it seemed stupid to let the opportunity pass to find out more about the family.
When the first hazy sun rays peeked over the treetops, I flipped my cigarette into the ashtray and pushed away from the porch and headed toward the kennels. Deep down, I knew I should stay the fuck away from Snow White. For one, I called her Snow White and second, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She sat atop the dog hut with her legs pulled against her chest and her chin resting on her folded arms atop her knees. Her eyes were glassy and red. She must have cried. It had been too dark for me to see. The thought of her tears made me uncomfortable. Marcella wasn’t the person I wanted to lock in a cage and put through hell. She was only the bait for a much bigger prey.
Her high heel rested on the hut beside her. The bucket was pushed into the corner as far from her as possible. But even if she had a will of steel, her body’s needs must have won out through the night. The hut’s wood was darker where Denver’s piss had hit it.
When she spotted me, she straightened and sat crossed-legged, her back ramrod-straight. Her blouse was wrinkled and her pants covered in dirt, but she still managed to look like this was exactly how it was meant to be. Shit. That girl still managed to look blasé and like a goddamn society girl in a fucking kennel.
The dogs whined and jumped up at the cages, eager for food. But that was Gray’s job, not mine. I suspected he was nursing a hangover from our party last night. I’d send one of the prospects over to clean everything later.
I stopped in front of the cages, regarding the girl inside for a few minutes without a word. Unfortunately, Marcella simply stared back at me, hiding her discomfort, if she felt any. “Your eyes are red. Did you cry?”
“My eyes are red because I fought sleep all night. I won’t close my eyes with so many disgusting animals around.” She paused for emphasis. “Not to mention the dogs.”
I smiled. “Your insults pearl right off me.” She slid off the hut with elegant ballet dancer feet, making sure to stay away from the piss spots, and grabbed her shoe. I had to stifle my amusement over her insistence to keep that shoe close.