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“I swear to God, Rylan, if you don’t let her go, you’ll pay for this.” His fist curls at his side, the vein on his forearm pumping. “If you touch her, I’m done covering for you.”
“Your threats don’t work. I’ll do far worse until you’re all mine again.” Rylan starts to make good on her promise, and the captured woman on the other side whimpers. “I could kill her, and no one would see. She’ll make such a lovely fertilizer, wouldn’t you say?”
A profound sense of sadness takes over Marcus’s gaze. The same one he must find in mine.
The Rylan we know is gone.
The Rylan I know wouldn’t kidnap and threaten to murder an innocent person. She killed Marcus’s girlfriends because—the way she saw it—they weren’t innocent. They were so-called threats. She couldn’t let them have him.
Dr. Hatchett has done nothing to deserve this.
Rylan can’t understand this simple truth.
There’s no telling what she’ll do to me.
She won’t listen to reason.
However Marcus decides to placate her, it won’t be an easy feat. Their conversation won’t be civil. Won’t be resolved in a discussion over dinner.
This is going to be far, far more difficult than either of us has ever imagined.
Maybe the look we’re exchanging is one of disappointment. We hoped for a better ending to our story, for the three of us.
We were wrong.
She’s really going to murder Dr. Hatchett.
My legs aren’t steady anymore. My knees buckle at the thought of Rylan here with a knife pinned to Dr. Hatchett’s throat and then to mine. I almost drop and fall on the bed.
Marcus is there to catch me. He hooks an arm around my waist, yanking me to him.
The force of it has me gasping.
A sound I’m quick to regret.
“Oh, hi there, whore.” Rylan switches to sounding sweet again. “Just the person I’ve been looking for. You and I have unfinished business. When I find you, bestie, you’re going to wish you would’ve stuck around for my iced tea.”
“Rylan Kingston, watch your mouth.” Marcus’s grip on me tightens. He’s hurting me. He’s protecting me.
My dark prince. The man who’ll fight for what’s right. Even at the cost of going to war with his own daughter. A war that’ll break my heart.
“You won’t touch her. You’re never touching her,” Marcus says without shifting his intense gaze from mine. He shakes his head, as if telling me not to believe what he’s going to say next. “You can see Leighton—your best friend—on one condition. You have to prove to me you can be civil.”
She’s never coming over here, he mouths, then adds, Don’t say a word. I have this.
Every feature on his face burns with determination. His grip on my waist is a solid promise to protect me.
“It’s cute how you think you call the shots.” A sharp tearing sound slashes through the otherwise silence in Rylan’s idle car. “My best friend. What a fucking joke. Ha, ha, ha. You’re fucking hilarious. Leighton, you’re a bitch, do you hear me, or are you sucking my dad’s cock like the whore you are?”
The next sound we hear is a blood-curdling scream. Way worse than anything we’ve heard so far.
“My breasts!” Dr. Hatchett cries out. “She’s cutting off my breast! Please, Marcus, help me.”
Marcus takes a step back, raking a hand through his hair. He’s obviously torn about this whole fucked-up situation. So am I. I’m more than torn. I’m wrecked.
This…this…
“It’s my fault,” I whisper as tears stream down my cheeks.
