Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I give it one last look before snatching the radio from where I’d set it on Nic’s chair and lift the secret hatch to the safe.
It takes me a minute to remember the codes he wrote down for me. Once I get it open, I dig through it to find the keys to the basement door and the car that I know will be waiting at the end.
I study the safe contents one more time, my gaze lingering on the gun there. Finally, I snatch it out, close everything again, and march down the hall. The staff is still in the house, so I need to act like everything is normal, even as my insides are tied up in intricate knots.
Security is still chattering away, giving reports, and I’m still listening, hoping to catch Nic’s voice amongst the rest.
I make it to the kitchen, and Sarah intercepts me. “Do you want me to set dinner in the dining room tonight, or do you want to take your food upstairs to eat until they get back?”
For a moment, I’m stunned, trying to organize my thoughts to give her some kind of answer, anything that will mean she remains without suspicion.
“I’ll come back for it shortly. Just need to go do something.”
I know it’s a shitty answer, but before she can question me, I bolt past her toward the hall with the basement door. The lights are already on when I descend. It takes a few seconds to find the key to open the heavy door. Inside is a tunnel. It’s rough stone and dirt floors, but there are lights built into the wall every so often, which I’m grateful for because my dumb ass didn’t think about bringing a flashlight.
I don’t know how long I walk. At some point, the radio’s signal must have been blocked because it cuts out and goes silent. When I reach the end of the tunnel, there is another locked door to get through.
Just as Nic promised, a black SUV, like his security team uses, sits beyond the door on a sort of driveway that leads out of a large tunnel, which I assume is to the main road. If I’m trapped inside the compound, I have no doubt Nic will hear about it and come to deal with me instead of his brother.
I climb into the car that is way bigger than anything I’ve ever driven and give myself a pep talk as I set the radio in the cupholder. “You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this,” I repeat as I turn the key in the ignition.
Once I use the onboard maps to figure out where the hell the house is, I can easily map to the cabin in the woods my father ventures to at least once a month. It’s the only place that makes sense for taking a hostage.
It’s an hour’s drive to get there, and as soon as I hit the main road, the radio comes back to life. The entire drive, I’m straining my ears for Nic’s voice or news that they might have found Lucas, so I can turn around and go home.
Home.
When did Nic’s house become my home? When I created a favorite spot on the couch in the library? When I learned to stock the good brandy in the pantry, and Sarah baked goods for me?
I glance at the wedding band on my finger and guilt claws at my insides. I promised Nic I wouldn’t leave, and here I am, an hour away from our house, about to confront my father, to save my brother, all without backup. If I make it through this, I’m sure he’s going to take a lot more than a belt to my ass as punishment.
I pull up outside the cabin. It looks old to anyone who might drive by, but the inside has been updated to rival a five-star hotel. There is one other vehicle here, and I can’t tell if it’s my father’s or Lucas’s.
I turn the volume down on the radio, tuck it in my pocket, slip the gun into the waistband of my pants, and climb out of the SUV—no use waiting in the car when Lucas could be dead at any moment.
The door is unlocked when I test the handle, which should have been my first red flag. The next one is the way the living room is eerily silent. I spot Lucas on the floor, belly down, blood caking his face and scalp. It looks like someone beat him to high hell, and I don’t bother stopping the tears as they pour down my face.
“Lucas,” I whisper, trying to lift his head and wake him up. He’s a big guy, and I can’t carry him out of the house. Even if I could, I’d never be able to get him into the car afterward.