Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Whether Tiago let her go didn’t matter. He would never free her heart.
Her person.
The man she loved.
The man who proved his love in the most excruciating ways imaginable.
Tears simmered beneath her eyelids. She willed them away, relaxed her face muscles, and continued the ruse of sleep.
Tiago had imprisoned her for eleven years. He would do the same to Tate just to rest his gaze on his macabre artwork every day. That knowledge had plagued her in the basement, and she’d spent those gut-wrenching hours devising a different ending.
She would walk out of the compound today, and Tate and Van would be with her. She knew exactly how she would do it.
Except she hadn’t expected to wake on Tiago’s bed. She needed to be near the chairs, so she could use one as a weapon.
There were other surprises, too. Tiago never lifted weights in her presence. Never allowed her in his room for this long. And never, never, never permitted her to wear clothes in here. The fact that she was dressed meant he’d been in a hellfire hurry to give her the injection.
But she didn’t have her guns.
The thud of a dumbbell against the floor resounded through the room. If one of those was twenty or thirty pounds, it would be light enough for her to lift. And heavy enough to crush a skull.
She peeked across the room from beneath barely raised lashes.
Tiago hissed through a set of curls, his bicep flexing with each heave of the dumbbell. Covered in sweat and dressed in a tank top and athletic shorts, he was angled toward her with his eyes down and his brow creased.
He was disgustingly handsome, sculpted all over, and evil down to the morrow of his bones.
She hated him with a seething passion that clouded her vision and poisoned her blood. Murder was the only way to relieve the pressure swelling behind her eyes. When she killed him, she wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Multiple dumbbells of various sizes scattered around his feet, and several of those looked like the weight she needed.
She twitched the muscles in her legs and arms, testing responsiveness. Everything moved as it should.
The plan will work.
Her insides tangled in a heap of nerves, making it harder and harder to initiate the first step. Once she alerted him she was awake, it would be go time. No turning back.
She pulled in a deep breath, sharpened her mind, and deliberately released a sickly moan.
The dumbbell paused mid-curl. He lowered it to the floor and prowled toward her. The mattress sloped beneath his knee, and his hand cupped her face.
“How do you feel?” His fingers, sweaty and vile, crept along her jaw.
“Where’s Tate?” She widened her eyes in a semblance of panic and wheezed a cough from her throat.
“You need to rest.” He gripped her chin, a gentle pressure.
“No.” She bowed her back and flailed as if trying to sit up but couldn’t.
Except she could. The flexing of muscle in her core and limbs gave her hope. She was strong enough. Definitely determined enough. She could do this.
“I want to leave.” She shot him a fierce look, one he’d come to expect from her. “You promised.”
“I’ll let you go, after we have a conversation.”
Restlessness trembled through her. She didn’t want to spend another second with this man. Didn’t want any part of his slippery tricks or mind games.
“You’re going to leave Caracas without Tate.” He tightened his fingers on her face, as if expecting her to jerk away.
She didn’t have to fake the quiver in her lips. If her plan failed, Tate and Van would never see outside of these walls again.
“You care for him.” His touch softened, ghosting across her cheek. “You might even love him. Those feelings will eat at you and consume you and you’ll return to Caracas with a half-cocked rescue plan. You’ll probably attempt to kill me, and you’ll die trying.”
Her jaw clenched. He has no idea.
“I won’t. I’ll stay away.” She made her voice shake. “Please. Just let me go.”
“I investigated your friends.” He stood from the mattress where it lay on the floor and paced away. “I learned that Tate Vades and Van Quiso are missing persons, living under the radar in Austin, Texas.”
Her stomach folded in. Tiago had been with her the entire night. An investigation like that would’ve taken time.
“How long have you known?” Her voice fractured.
“Six days.” He shot her a disapproving glare. “I investigate every man you fuck at that club.”
Oh God, oh God, oh fuck. Did he know she’d sneaked out the back door that night? Or that she spent five days with Tate? Or that Tate was close to her sister and her sister was alive?
Why did he wait six days to capture Tate?
Because he loves his twisted mind games.
“I know Van Quiso’s married,” he said. “But I didn’t know about his criminal history until he told me.”