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“You’re brave getting that close to me,” I growl, inches from his face. “I could reach out and claw your eyes out quicker than you can pull the trigger.”
“I’ll take the risk if it means I can look you in the eyes as you die, Boss,” he whispers back.
A gunshot rings out and I brace myself for the pain. Poppy’s face flashes in front of my eyes. Her desperate stare from across the table, laced with disbelief and betrayal.I hope you can escape, China Doll. I hope the key to your handcuffs is enough to set you free.
But the pain doesn’t come.
Instead, Antoin’s body crashes to the floor. A single bullet in his temple. Instinct kicks in and I grab the gun from his lifeless hand and point it in the direction of the attacker.
The one henchman left in the restaurant is pointing his AK-47 at me.
Cillian.
“Well would you look at that,” he drawls, eyes dipping to Antoin’s contorted body. “I saved your life.”
I stare at him in silence for a split second. “But why?”
He smiles. “Questions later. Right now we need to save Poppy. And lucky for you, I know exactly where she is.”
Poppy
I wake up with a banging headache and the smell of damp assaulting my nostrils.
Where the fuck am I?
I’m lying down on something soft, a slimy wall pressed against my back. The handcuffs are digging into my wrist bones, rubbing the flesh raw. When I groan into the darkness, there’s a sudden movement and a light comes on.
I’m staring into my own eyes. Except they don’t belong to me.
“It’s good to see you again, Poppy,” my father whispers.
The shock makes me bolt upright, draw my knees to my chest and push my back against the wall.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his eyes tracing me with fascination. “You’re with daddy now. You’re safe.”
Breathing heavy, I stare at him as everything comes flooding back.Gatsby’s. Lorcan. Bratnov.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, wincing at the tenderness at my temple.
“We’ll get that patched up, Pops, don’t you worry.”
“Where am I?” I manage to gurgle.
“Don’t worry about the logistics, just know that you’re safe now.”
Through blurry eyes, I sweep the room. It’s nothing but a small, concrete box with a mattress and a naked lightbulb swinging above my head. This doesn’tfeelsafe.
And neither does being around my father.
He looks old. Deep wrinkles distort his face and his knees creak when he stands. It’s been two years since I’ve seen him, four since I had a proper conversation with him. Time isn’t the only thing that’s changed him, either. His suit is sharp, his beard neatly trimmed. There’s an air of confidence surrounding him that he never had during my whole childhood.
Despite having a headache and feeling disorientated, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Because my instincts know better.
“You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, Pop. You look exactly like your mother.”
“I know who you are,” I hiss. “Who youreallyare. So, what am I doing here, Marcus?”
