Page 141 of Savage Surrender

“If I hadn’t ordered the DNA test when you were born, I would question whether you carried my blood at all.”

Alexander pulls Tristan’s hood off. Sweat has pasted his blond hair to his forehead. Alexander adjusts his watch until the face sits precisely over his wrist. “This has your name all over it, and I want it fixed. Now.”

Tristan looks from the watch to his father. “Compelling pitch.”

“Every authorization bears my name, and you’re going to reverse everything you did.”

“If I did it, why would I ever fucking reverse it?”

Alexander’s shoe drives into his side, and Tristan slumps. His stomach heaves once. When the second kick makes contact, he turns his head and vomits onto the floor between Alexander’s polished shoes.

Alexander steps back and checks the leather. “When you’re finished, we’ll continue.”

Tristan spits beside the mess. “I’ll try to hurry.”

A movement from Ezra catches my eye. His wrist appears beneath the edge of his jacket, wet and dark where the rope has rubbed it raw. A guard looks his way, and he freezes.

Vincent has Owen by the hair. “Your mother thought the villa in Lake Como would hide them.” His mouth curves into a grin. “I finally chose a pack for Emma. The papers are handled, but your mother disagrees. What do you think, son?”

“Enough, Vincent.” Alexander’s tone cuts across him.

“She isn’t going.” Owen’s voice is rough.

“You weren’t on the list of people to consult.”

Owen spits in his face, and Vincent drives him down until his cheek hits the concrete.

I get one knee beneath me, then William knocks me over. Pain tears up my calf as I hit the floor again.

“Down.” The command finds the old place inside me, but it doesn’t keep me there. I try again, using myself as a distraction for Ezra.

Vincent is yelling now. “Tell me where Miller took her.”

Owen’s swollen eye fixes on him. “I’d rather fucking die.” Vincent’s hands wrap around Owen’s throat, and horror hits me that he’s going to make Owen prove it.

Suddenly, he releases Owen and crosses the floor, rolling Ezra onto his back with his boot, drawing his gun. “Maybe they’ll be more inclined to talk if we start eliminating people.”

Alexander looks at Ezra as if Vincent has suggested closing a bad position. He shrugs. “Do it.”

The gun lowers toward Ezra’s head.

“He’s the only person who knows where they are.” It’s a bluff, and not a great one, but it’s the first thing I think of. I keep my eyes on him instead of the bloody hand hidden beneath Ezra’s back. “Kill him, and the answer dies with him.”

A phone rings before Vincent decides whether he believes me.

Alexander takes it from inside his jacket, checks the screen, and turns away to answer.

“When?” he asks.

Silence.

“Anaphylaxis?”

“Her? Why?”

Vincent steps away from Ezra. “What happened?”

Alexander lowers the phone. For the first time since he entered, he forgets to arrange his face.