Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
We pull up to the warehouse district twenty minutes later. Chain-link fence sagging, sodium lights buzzing overhead, rows of rusted metal buildings stretching into darkness. PD has the perimeter quietly surrounded—two cruisers blocking access roads, SWAT van idling two blocks back. Cass coordinates via encrypted radio while I scan the shadows through night-vision binos.
There. Third building on the left. Black van parked crooked near the loading door. Rear hatch still open a crack. Fresh tire tracks in the dust.
“That’s it,” I say, voice flat steel. “They’re inside.”
Cass meets my eyes. “We’ve got thermal showing four heat signatures—two stationary near the center, two moving. Likely guards. Principal and sister probably zip-tied or restrained.”
My hands flex around the rifle stock. “Entry plan?”
“Front and rear simultaneously. Flash-bangs through the side windows, then dynamic breach. You and I take point on the main door. Corbett and team sweep left flank. PD covers exfil.”
I nod once. No room for hesitation. No room for anything except getting her out alive.
We gear up in silence—plates, comms, breaching charges prepped. Cass hands me a flash-bang. “You good?”
“I’m good when she’s safe,” I answer. “Not before.”
He claps my shoulder. “Then let’s bring her home.”
ELEVEN
INDIGO
The warehouse reeks of rust and damp concrete, the air thick with dust that clings to my throat like a chokehold. Viola and I huddle together on the grimy floor, our backs against a stack of rotting crates, wrists still bound with those biting zip ties. My lingerie feels like a cruel joke now. I’m exposed, vulnerable, and every inch of my skin prickles with cold and fear. My heart hasn't stopped racing since the van doors slammed shut, a frantic drumbeat echoing the terror twisting in my gut. But underneath it, anger simmers, hot and defiant. These bastards took us. They took my sister. And if I get one chance, I'll make them regret it.
Rico paces in front of us, his tattooed arms flexing as he checks his phone, that sleazy grin twisting into something uglier under the flickering fluorescent lights. The other two goons lean against the wall, guns tucked in their belts like casual accessories. Rico stops, crouches down to our level, his breath sour with cheap beer.
"Comfy, ladies?" he sneers, eyes raking over me like I'm merchandise. "Bet you're wondering why a rockstar like me's slumming it with kidnappings."
Viola whimpers beside me, pressing closer. I glare at him, forcing steel into my voice despite the tremor. "Enlighten us, asshole."
His laugh is sharp, barking. "Smart mouth. Derek wanted you. Yeah, Derek's the brains—or what's left of 'em. Me? I'm in it for the payout. Your ex promised me fifty grand to help snag you. Said you'd ruined his life or some shit. But hey, I needed the cash—band's tanking, van's 'broken'—thanks to my little sabotage. Viola here was the perfect bait. She trusted me, the dumb bitch."
Viola gasps, fresh tears streaming. "You... you lied? The van, the tour—"
"Shut up," Rico snaps, backhanding the air near her face. She flinches, and rage explodes in my chest—protective, fierce. I lunge forward as much as the ties allow, spitting at his feet.
"You're pathetic," I hiss, fear coiling tighter but anger giving me fire. "Using my sister? You'll rot for this."
He stands, chuckling. "Big talk from a half-naked Barbie doll. Wait 'til Derek gets here. He's got plans for you—reboot your brand, alright. Straight to the bottom."
The warehouse door creaks open then, a sliver of night spilling in. Derek Voss strides through, looking every bit the washed-up photographer he is—disheveled hair, rumpled jacket, eyes wild with a mix of triumph and madness. My stomach drops. The man who once whispered sweet nothings while snapping my nudes, only to sell them out when I dumped his cheating ass. Seeing him now, fear spikes hard but it's laced with betrayal's bitter sting. Upset doesn't cover it… I'm furious, heartbroken at the ghost of what I thought we had.
"Indigo," he drawls, stepping closer, his gaze devouring me. "Miss me? You look... exposed. Fitting, after what you did to me."
I swallow bile, holding Viola tighter. "What I did? You leaked my photos, you psycho. Ruined my career for months. This is your revenge? Kidnapping? You're sicker than I thought."
He kneels, too close, his cologne choking me. "Revenge? Baby, this is justice. You fired me as your photographer, got that restraining order, tanked my rep. I couldn't book a gig after. But you? You rise from the ashes with this Valentine bullshit, all hearts and lace. Nah. I'm ending that. We'll film a little 'confession' video— you admitting you staged the leaks for publicity. Then we sell you and your sis to some interested parties. Human trafficking's lucrative. You'll disappear, brand and all."
Terror crashes over me like ice water. My breath shortens as my vision blurs at the edges. Disappear? No. Not with Viola. Not when I've just found something real with Mack. Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them back, upset turning to raw hatred. "You're delusional. Mack will find us. He'll kill you."