Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I love my homeland, but right now, I’d give anything to be back at the Romanovs. I’ve longed to escape the ties to my family, to find freedom. But that dream is a nightmare and freedom just another word for survival.
Still, I sit upright in the chair I’m bound to and ignore the gnawing hunger in my belly and the stitch in my side from sitting here for so long.
He’s coming. I know he’s fucking coming. There’s a reason I’ve been brought here, and everything in me knows why.
My brother is not dead.
I knew it was too good to be true, and I knew it was a lie because I felt no sense of relief. Only wariness and a deep, dark knowing that comes from sharing some part of the man’s DNA.
And now, I’ll wait until he comes to do whatever the fuck he plans on doing to me. I betrayed the Los Sangre Dorada. My brother must know that by now. My life is forfeit for what I’ve done.
Jesus.
The hefty old man with nasty garlic breath and rough hands, who dragged me here straight from the damn plane, chuckles mercilessly in the dim shadows. “He’s coming,” he taunts me. “You are in so much trouble.”
I toss my head and pretend I don’t hear him.
But I can’t stop the way my skin crawls and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand. I hate how my heartbeat races on as if I’m being chased by an axe murderer.
I’d rather face a murderer than my brother.
Footsteps sound outside.
My heart pounds. I grit my teeth.
The door opens, and four masked men enter the room, each holding a gun by his side, all of them in strict military formation. And behind them, prowling like an angry, hungry lion, stalks Carlos Carerra himself.
Dressed in black, utilitarian clothing, he walks in with a familiar scowl and a newly adopted air of authority. I stifle a snort. Javier Morales, his former boss, is dead, which is the only reason he struts around like he’s hot shit.
A lamp flickers on a bedside table as one of the masked men takes a chair and plunks it on the floor in front of me. But Carlos doesn’t sit.
Holding my gaze, Carlos stands over me, his presence menacing. He wants me sweating. He wants me shaking.
I can’t help it. I’m doing both, and I hate myself for it.
“Hola, little sister,” he says, his voice cold and calculating. He leans down and brushes his thumb across the bruise on my cheek. I stifle a wince, but he notices. “Who did this to you?”
I jerk my chin at the hefty man sitting next to me.
“Such sloppy work,” Carlos says. “This is the best you could do? You took a traitor here for questioning, and this is the best you could do? She isn’t even bleeding.” Shaking his head, he casually pulls a handgun from a holster at his side.
“Please, sir! I’ll do better!” The man’s eyes are wide, his hands spread, pleading. “Give me another—”
Boom.
I scream when the bullet lands right between the man’s eyes. Blood pours from the wound as his heavy body falls to the ground, lifeless. I bite my lip until I taste metal on my tongue to stop myself from screaming, but my scream ends in a whimper.
“She’s a traitor,” Carlos says, reaching for me. I flinch, but I can’t get away from him. Even if I wasn’t tied to this chair, he’s bigger and stronger than I am. I know that from personal experience.
He fists my hair and yanks my head back.
“If I send you to bring back a traitor, man or woman, and I tell you to punish them, I mean you fucking punish them,” Carlos snarls. In one swift motion, he draws his hand back and slaps me, hard, across the face. Tears spring to my eyes, and my head jerks to the side. He slaps the other cheek. I cry out in pain. My jaw vibrates from the impact, my skin on fire.
He reaches for my chin and grabs it, appraising his work. “There. That’s a bit better,” he snarls, showcasing yellowed teeth.
My best friend Isabella always hated Carlos, and for good reason. She called him “homely and ugly,” and she was right. “Too bad you got all the beauty genes,” she said once. “Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy all the time. It must hurt walking around looking like that.”
But I know better. Carlos looks like evil incarnate because he is. The ugliness in his face is only a reflection of his heart.
“I’ll take it easy on you this time, little sister, because I need you. And when I send you back to lover boy, things might get complicated if you have any broken bones.”
Oh no. Oh God.
Lover boy? My heart beats so fast I’m sick to my stomach.