Page 44 of Fallen Dane

“Whitney.” He tries for a reasonable tone. “You don’t want to do this. Think about Sloane. If you kill me, the Council will find out. They’ll execute you. Then who protects your daughter?”

I walk closer until I’m standing right in front of him. I lean down so we’re eye to eye.

“My husband is pretty damn good at protecting people. I think I’ll take my chances as Mrs. Fucking Sinclair.” I smile widely. “There is not a goddamn thing you can say to me to free you.”

His face pales.

“Or to make this quick.” I straighten up. “And once I’m done, my stepsons are very good at making people disappear.”

Thorne smirks from where he stands near the door. “We’ve had a lot of practice.”

Fox checks his phone as if this is just another Tuesday night. I’m certain he won’t lose any sleep over what’s about to go down.

Tate tilts his head, studying Harrison. “I’d be happy to take care of him for you, Whitney. It never gets old for me.”

“You can’t do this.” Harrison’s voice rises. “I’m on the Council. They’ll know I’m missing. They’ll investigate—”

“Will they?” Dane moves to stand beside me, and my body heats when he rests his hand on my ass. “Maybe if you were in a higher position, you’d understand better how things work. No one’s going to look for you. That’s how much power I have.”

Harrison looks at each of us in turn. I can see his mind racing, trying to find an angle, some way to talk himself out of this.

“There has to be something you want. I can work for you. Whatever you need—”

“I don’t need a fucking thing from you.” Dane gestures to the workbench. “But my wife does.”

I cross to where Dane laid out the knives. There are five of them, each one a different size and shape. I run my fingers over the handles and then select a medium-sized blade with a serrated edge.

The weight feels good in my hand.

“Great choice,” Thorne says approvingly, then he lunges to snatch Fox’s phone from his hands.

“You’re going in that chair next, you fucking asshole.” Fox wrestles him for the phone.

“Goddamnit,” Dane bellows, clenching his fists. “You’re grown fucking men. Can’t you show Whitney a little respect here?”

Thorne hands Fox the phone back. “Sorry, Whitney.” He glares at Fox. “I’ll find out what you’re up to.”

I don’t know if there is a more fucked up family than ours, but I am fucking here for it. “I’ll get started here, and hopefully it will be a bit more entertaining for you all.”

“No.” Harrison starts struggling against the restraints. “No, please. Whitney, listen to me. I can—”

“You threatened my daughter.” I test the edge of the knife with my thumb. It’s sharp enough to draw blood. “I should have killed you at the restaurant that day.”

“I was desperate and—”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” I step closer, the knife steady in my hand. “You made me betray my husband. You made me lie to the only man who’s ever given a shit about me. So this is as much for him as it is for me.”

Dane’s hand settles on my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, just touches me. He’s reminding me that he’s here. That I’m not alone in this.

“Please.” Harrison is begging now. “Please, Whitney. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Just let me go—”

“I killed Gerald for threatening Sloane.” I press the tip of the knife against Harrison’s cheek. “What makes you think you deserve better?”

I drag the blade down slowly. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, just enough to open the skin. Blood wells up and runs down his face.

Harrison screams.

“That’s for blackmailing me.” I move the knife to his other cheek and make a matching cut. “And that’s for threatening my daughter.”