Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
My gaze sweeps over the three of them before locking onto Zade’s. He’s clearly the leader of this little performance. “What do you want with me?” I spit. “I’ve done nothing to you.”
Zade doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. It’s as though I didn’t say a damn word, and it’s clear this man is void of all emotion. He’s dead inside, and nothing in this world could possibly be more dangerous. This is the kind of man nightmares are made of, the kind you see splashed across wanted signs with the warning do not approach for your own safety.
He just stares at me, and it’s so damn intense, my hands shake with fear. The corner of his lips flinch with the slightest smirk, and it changes everything. His whole demeanor shifts for the worse, and a chill sails right down my spine. This asshole is psychotic.
Zade nods toward Dalton, and as though releasing his hounds, Cross and Sawyer move to Dalton, and just like that, I watch as they beat him senseless. Dalton grunts in agony, and I scream, tearing against my cuffs until my wrists bleed. “STOP IT,” I wail. “OH GOD, PLEASE STOP.”
It goes on for another minute before Zade’s powerful tone rips through the cell. “Enough.” And like good little henchmen, Sawyer and Cross immediately stop, stepping away from Dalton before silently making their way out the door.
Zade remains, not even bothering to look at Dalton, just keeping his deadly gaze locked on mine. The seconds tick by as he watches me fall apart, watches the blood from my wrist trail down my arm. Then without another word, he turns and walks away, pulling the big concrete door closed behind him.
Chapter 9
ZADE
My penthouse suite at The DeVil Hotel has a panoramic view of the city below, and I sit quietly looking over the moon-soaked streets as Sawyer and Cross talk shit. This has been my home for the past three years, and every inch of this building has been designed and created by me. Most people think it was my father’s building, think I was handed it like some spoiled rich kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. But the truth is, I fought for this.
At sixteen, I had this dream fully funded. At eighteen, I bought the real estate. At nineteen, my contractors moved in. At twenty-one, the DeVil Hotel was complete and considered one of the most luxurious hotels in the world. And now, at twenty-four, this is my home.
Everything that happens in this hotel is run by me. The staff, the guests, the fucking thread count of the bedding in each room. I know every square inch of this building better than I know myself. Staying away from it these past few weeks has been a challenge, but if it means ensuring Oakley Quinn remains in my custody, protected from those who want to see me fail, then I’ll do it.
No one will touch that girl apart from me. The day I carve her heart out of her chest and offer it as my sacrifice is the day my life truly begins. The power of Empire will be mine and nothing will stand in my way.
The distant clanging of metal sounds through my apartment, and I sit up on the couch, my gaze flicking toward the door. From the outside, the containment cell looks like any other room, but looking closer, the automatic locking system gives away my little secret. Once through that door and into the harsh reality of my world, there’s the real entrance of the containment cell. A heavy-duty door with a steel locking system. A little barbaric and over the top, sure, but it’s just the way I like it. Unless you know the cell like I do, there’s no breaking out of there.
Dalton, on the other hand, is one of the few exceptions.
I hear the familiar creak of the heavy-duty door opening and closing before the subtle beep from the keypad. There’s a soft click of the automatic locking system releasing, and before I know it, Dalton Eros is standing in my living room, a guilty smirk stretched wide across his face.
He stretches out, having been balled up in that cell for close to twenty four hours. “Really, asshole?” he questions, his calculated stare locked on Sawyer. “You just had to go for the ribs. You know I broke those last month.”
Sawyer stands, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat. “Had to look real, brother.” He strides over to Dalton and claps him on the back, no hard feelings between them. “You good though? We didn’t hit you too hard, did we? I know you can be a little bitch sometimes, but I figured you would have manned up a bit more in front of your little girlfriend.”