AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I heard nothing but the ringing, made louder by the noise of my fucking gun.
“She told me to kill you, and if I did, Rothbart would be pleased. She told me he’d treat me well. I just didn’t want to be punished. I wanted him to treat me well.”
She stared down at the hole in her stomach, blood rushing over her fingers. “I’m cold,” she stuttered through trembling lips.
I nodded, knowing that she’d be fucking freezing with that amount of blood loss. “Don’t try to move.”
I rushed into the dining room and pulled the fancy cloth that sat below the fine china, not caring about any fucking noise. I moved for one of the drapes—held in an elaborate pose—and grabbed the tie around the middle. It would be big enough to wrap around the slave’s tiny waist.
Back in the living room, I dropped to my knees at her side, pulling her forward to secure the tie and try to minimize the bleeding.
“Fuck.” She was bleeding through it.
I stripped myself of my own belt and did the same thing over again, forcing the prong to create a new hole to accommodate her size and do what I needed it to do.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her bloody fingers cold and touching my cheek. “I’m sorry.” Her breathing grew labored.
I wrapped the cloth around her, trying to avoid the inevitable.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She nodded, her head and everything else still shaking when she’d granted her acceptance. “Will you do something for me?”
“I will.” Anything, seeing as I’m the reason you’ll never get to do anything again.
“Will you tell Cat I’m sorry, too?”
My heart dropped. She called her Cat, not Aribella.
My eyes glassed over for what they must have shared. At one point, this woman was a friend or an ally before becoming so wrapped up in her own safety that it made her an enemy.
“I will tell her for you.”
She nodded again and forced out a few more words before she was silent for good.
“Go help your friend. He needs you.”
Chapter 13
Remi
Ollie wasn’t in the office.
Papers lay scattered on the desk, some on the floor. The room was in no more disarray than it was the last time I stepped inside.
I’d already looked everywhere downstairs. Ollie could only be upstairs or down in the basement. Wherever he was, I hoped he was still breathing. He would be. He was quick, skilled, but something about not knowing where he was had me feeling like I needed to rip the house apart.
My feet moved me to the stairs, and I found myself halfway to the top, gun back in hand.
“Ollie!” I called, hoping he’d answer.
I heard nothing, obviously.
“Ollie!” I edged around the banister, keeping my back to the wall to prevent anyone else from jumping on me.
With the gun pointed, I opened the door to what appeared to be the master bedroom—an elegant space that screamed of each accessory’s value.
The four-poster bed made my stomach churn, thinking of how many innocent women and girls these fuckers had forced beneath the sheets.
