Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I grab her phone, place it on the bed, then clear the house. Nothing.
Returning to the bedroom, I pick up her phone. But I can’t access it without the passcode. I don’t know what it is. Dammit.
I get dressed quickly, then call Marshall. It’s three in the morning, but this is important.
“Hey, man,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “Everything all right?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I say, trying to remain calm.
“Mira?”
“Yeah, check on her. And has Elle contacted you?”
“No,” he replies, as I hear him climb out of bed. “I thought she was with you.”
“Check on Mira,” I grunt, my mind whirring, thoughts a tangled mess as I attempt to figure out what happened.
Would Elle have gone for a nighttime stroll around my grounds? Would she have left me in the night for… for what? What likely reason could she have?
“Mira’s sleeping,” Marshall tells me, yawning. “Kid looks pretty peaceful, too. She’s cute.”
I let out a sigh of relief. At least she’s safe.
But where’s my goddamn woman?
“I need to go,” I tell him. “Thanks, man.”
I hurry through the house and go to the security room. I don’t have to rewind for long to see her climbing into one of my cars, typing in the code, and leaving the property.
I rewind the footage again. Her posture is rigid, almost like she’s half frozen with fear. She fumbles the car key in the door multiple times before opening it.
I tap my finger against my chin. What would make her leave like this?
There’s only one option. Lucian got to her somehow and persuaded her to leave the property. But I don’t understand what leverage the prick has. If Mira’s safe, why would she leave?
I move through the house again. I haven’t got time to hang around.
My best bet is to race to her cabin. There’s a chance she needed to return home for something she wasn’t willing to tell me.
Once I’m all geared up, I grab her cellphone just in case. She got a text while I was getting ready.
Unknown: Don’t keep me waiting much longer or the little bitch gets it.
Another text comes in.
Unknown: I will paint your pretty new home red if you fuck around.
Fuck.
Lucian is at her cabin.
With a hostage.
It makes sense that Elle would rush over to save whoever this woman or girl is. Elle wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. Just because her sister is tucked up safe and sound, it doesn’t mean she’d let someone else suffer.
She’s a good person. That’s one reasons I care about her so much so fast.
I run out to the front of the house, taking the pickup truck she left behind. She took the sedan. I drive out of my compound with my heart pounding so hard it actually hurts.
Maybe Lucian smelled a trap. Or he got impatient.
The why of it doesn’t matter right now. Elle is speeding toward him, or maybe already with him, and there’s nothing I can do except drive as fast as I can.
If he’s hurt her…
I can’t even let my mind go there. I’d blame myself. That’s the ugly truth. I’d blame myself, hate myself for ever letting her get involved in this. I should’ve locked her in Marshall’s place, lured Lucian out fast, then finished him off for daring to threaten Elle and her sister.
I speed through the night, a lump in my throat, thinking of all the sick things Lucian could be doing to Elle.
CHAPTER 31
ELLE
Ipull up outside the house, gasping when I see how wrecked it is. The windows glint in the moonlight with shattered glass, and the door is off its hinges. There’s a big pile of cameras outside the house, some of them in little pieces as though he stomped on them in a rage.
Every cell in me wants to turn this car around and get far away from here. I’ve got no weapons, no way to hurt him… being here is madness. But I can’t let him hurt my baby sister. He’s already taken too much from her. If I have to switch places with her to make this right, I will.
I climb out of the car and walk toward the cabin. Each step is a struggle, with a voice in my head screaming at me to turn back, to run, to do anything other than what I’m doing…
I walk up the stairs, pushing the half-destroyed door so that it creaks.
The inside has been destroyed as well. The cupboards are smashed in. The couch is torn to pieces with long strips of fabric everywhere. The TV has been completely caved in.
“Hello?” I call.
“We’re back here,” Lucian replies, laughing gruffly.
I ignore the shiver of fear threatening to paralyze me and walk through the house. I go to the very back of the house, following the sound of his laughter. He’s kicked in my bedroom door too.