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“No, it was always mine.” The sharp bite in her voice cuts through the air. “He was blind to what I could offer him because I didn’t have a dick hanging between my legs. Both of you cut me out.”
“I didn’t cut you out. I tried to protect you.”
“Same fucking thing from where I stood.”
How did I miss it?
Wendy managed to conceal this festering hatred and resentment for Father and me for so many years…
“Well, you got what you wanted now, didn’t you?”
Her bright-red lips curl. “The last thirty years have been very good to me, but I want to secure the future, Weston. And for that, I need your help.”
“I’m not going to help you.”
A slim, dark brow rises. “Are you sure? Just because you have Callista locked up in your library doesn’t mean I can’t get to her.”
Her words send a chill down the back of my neck, and my hand tightens around the crystal tumbler.
“You touch her, you die.”
The satisfied grin that spreads across Wendy’s lips only makes my blood run colder. “There’s the beast I’ve been looking for. I always knew he was there. Didn’t it feel good, creating the bodies instead of just burying them?”
No, it didn’t.
It felt like my soul had been ripped apart again. Even though I was doing it for a good reason, to protect Callista, it still felt awful, just as it had every time I did it for Father.
My curse rearing its ugly head.
“I won’t do it, Wendy. I won’t come back.”
She raises her hands, her shiny manicured nails reflecting the glow of the fire. “Then it appears we’re at an impasse.”
I nod slowly and lift my glass to my lips to down it. “It would appear we are.”
CALLISTA
I can feel them coming.
That deep, aching sense of dread only grows as they get closer and closer to the house each hour that has passed since Weston first told me they had arrived at the base. And even in the pitch black of night, staring out the library windows overlooking the valley, it feels as though I can see them lurking, waiting to make their move.
Though it’s undoubtedly my overactive imagination playing tricks on me.
Wendy isn’t stupid enough to use men who don’t know what they’re doing. She’ll use a real hit squad, one that will come for me and take me easily to ensure Weston understands the ramifications of not complying with whatever it is she wants him to do.
Our only hope is that she is stupid enough not to see what Weston is doing.
That contradiction is what makes my stomach churn and my body tremble. Sitting here for so many hours, my knees bouncing, my hands sweaty and clammy, waiting for the right time to act, has wound me so tight that I might snap at any minute.
I’m not good at this.
Doing nothing, knowing Weston is facing her alone.
It will only take one slip, one mistake on his part to ruin everything, and if anything happens to him, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on my own.
In only a matter of one short month, I’ve gone from despising the man to needing him more than I need my next breath.
What does that say about me?
