Page 153 of Taint My Soul

“Have you seen your friends?”

“I had a plan, and they decided to do something entirely different.”

“Hmm. Did it include leaving me for dead?” My brow lifts. He looks away, and my hand flies to his jaw, gripping over the grey stubble so tightly that he looks at me. The man wasn’t young. Probably in his late fifties, but overall, he was fit and strong.

An agonizing breath escapes through my teeth. I straighten up and look down at him.

“Why did you hire this man to bring me here?”

“Tread lightly, old man. I’m a sniper. I could have easily killed you if they wanted you dead.” Spencer asserts and leans forward.

“You’re wasting your time. Besides, my soldiers will figure out I’m gone soon enough, and they’ll come for me.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Spencer giggles.

“I want something from you, and you don’t have a choice.” I walk around him, forcing my trembling hands to my sides. “You worked with Tobias King most of your life. You knew the man. You knew what he did to your son, what he took from you.”

“Don’t speak about my son.”

“Tobias gave the order to kill your boy. Saint might have pulled the trigger, but Tobias gave the order. You could have kill Saint at the Greyhouse, but you didn’t. You let us both live. You want Tobias. I can help get you to him.”

He doesn’t utter a word. Being on the other side of the line, holding all the cards, makes me feel powerful. Now I understand what it feels like to be a King. To give the options of the bargain. To watch and wait for the captive to make a choice. To be the one with all the power.

It’s sensational.

I wait.

And like a moth dancing to a flame, he gives in.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I need to break into the Red Vault.”

“He’s really good at this.” Spencer whispers to Ali.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

SAINT

Dark. Pitch black. Soundless.

I have lost count of the hours I have stayed here.

Days maybe? Months even?

My father’s methods are ruthless. He’ll keep me here for as long as he needs so he can get what he wants.

But he won’t break me this time, not when I have something to hold on to.

All steel walls. No windows. No light. Just darkness and a single ventilation system above the vaulted steel ceiling. Red Vault was built shortly before I turned eighteen. I was one of its first prisoners. And after I’d been in here for weeks in this room, I became a pathetic mess, just the way my father wanted it.

I sit in the dark corner. Wrists and ankles bound in chains. Body fighting off the infection and the excruciating pain of the bullet wound on my shoulder. Eyes closed. Body taut and trembling.

Every part of me aches.

Skin, bones, and soul.

I keep my head bowed between my legs. It’s easier that way. I don’t have to watch the walls close in on me. I don’t have to shatter into pieces while trying to keep my pulse steady or my breath even.