Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
But after finding her and before I went after her father, I closed her legs, and I wiped away the word W-H-O-R-E the killer had written in her blood across her stomach. I wiped it away because she wasn’t that, and I wouldn’t have anyone think she was.
How did my mother know? Did Caius tell her that, too, just as he told her Alexia was pregnant? Did he tell her that after killing her and writing out that word to taunt me? To push me so far, I couldn’t come back from it?
But why?
Why?
The coincidence of the Commander choosing me of all people—me to take to make his enforcer. Me, who he couldn’t have known, except that now I know he and I were connected long before I was even born.
With a roar, I stand and hurl the decanter across the room. It crashes, leaving brown liquid streaking down the wall. I stalk out of the room and call for two soldiers to follow me out into the SUV. I drive to Augustine’s, and when I reach it, I don’t care that most of the building’s lights are out. The only ones still on are a random window on the third floor and the dimmed lights of the front lobby.
I get out of the car and slam the door. It echoes in the darkness, even the crashing of waves distant and muffled by the bulk of the building between me and the cliffs. I barely feel the cold as I walk toward the front door.
The glass doors slide open, and I hear Caius’s warning to get Madelena out. Away from here. Is that remorse?
The old man working the night shift looks up in surprise when he sees me. It takes him a moment to recognize me.
“Mr. Augustine, a pleasure—”
I am on the elevator and the doors are closing before he finishes. On the top floor, the soldier assigned to stand guard startles awake. He’s quick to get on his feet.
“Sir. Sorry, I…”
“Get out of my way.”
He nods, steps aside before I’ve reached the door. It’s unlocked and I push it open. The apartment is silent and dark, a lone lamp on in the corner.
“Stay here,” I tell the soldiers and stalk toward Caius’s bedroom.
“Caius!” I call out, flipping light switches on as I go. He took my old room, which is at the end of the corridor. I push it open and turn on the light. I’m surprised when I hear a woman’s startled gasp.
There, sitting up on the bed is a naked Ana covering her tits. But she’s alone. “Where is my brother?” I demand.
She shakes her head, clearly terrified.
The beacon light catches my eye, and I watch it scan the horizon from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Clothes are scattered over the back of a chair, the foot of the bed. There’s a half-full bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.
“Caius?” I stalk toward the bathroom but it’s quiet. When I open the door, it’s dark and empty. “Where the fuck is he?”
“What the hell is going on?” a man asks, and I turn to find Lawrence Cummings standing at the door in a T-shirt and boxers. He’s holding a pistol at his side.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, not afraid of him or his stupid little gun, which I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how to use.
“Santos?” My mother comes running behind him. She’s tying her robe. “How…”
Cummings looks like he might piss his pants and backs up into the hallway.
“What’s going on?” my mother asks me.
“Where is my brother?” I ask, and when I pass her to get into the hallway, she presses her back flat to the wall.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asks, mustering up her courage to follow me to the study.
“Caius? Where the fuck are you?” I push the study door open so hard it slams against the wall and rattles. But I find it, too, dark and empty. There are two more bedrooms down the other corridor. “See if my brother is in one of the rooms,” I tell one of the soldiers.
“What’s going on?” my mother demands.
I turn to her, and she shrinks back a little. Good. I stalk toward her. “How did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“Do you want me to call the police, Evelyn?” Cummings asks.
I turn to him, not even having time to tell him off before my mom snaps at him, “Go to bed. Don’t be an idiot!”
“Your brother isn’t here,” the soldier tells me.
I turn to my mother, turn on her. “How did you know what the killer had written on her stomach?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. She swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re scaring me, Santos. You sound like your father. His temper— ”
“W-H-O-R-E.” I spell it out, cutting her off. “How did you know? Because I cleaned that off her before the cops got there. No one knew. No one but me and the killer.” Not even Alexia. She was, thankfully, dead by then. My mom’s eyes fill with tears, and I feel that twisting in my chest. “Her killer was right-handed. Her father couldn’t fucking blow his nose with his right hand.” There’s a long, heavy pause and fuck, is this happening? Is this really fucking happening? “Mom?” I ask, hearing the break in my voice.