Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
I peer down at my gross attire, wishing I could take a hot shower and wash away the events from the last twenty-four hours. It's challenging to keep my head on straight when I feel soiled and uncomfortable.
I'll do it for you, little one. With one hand resting over my belly, I breathe deeply and almost instantly regret it when the smell of waste reaches my nostrils. I gag, barely keeping myself from vomiting.
What I wouldn't give for some fresh air.
“Soon.” I rub at my still-flat belly. “Soon, this will all be a distant memory.”
I do whatever I can to think happy thoughts, but the minutes tick by slowly, and soon all I'm left with are the memories of what took place in that warehouse. I blink back the fresh tears forming in my eyes. I'm tired, so very tired, in every way possible. Sleep evaded me last night, and all I could do was stare at the strip of light under the door, dreading the possibility of a shadow darkening it again, wondering who would come for me next and if they were going to hurt me to send a message to Callum. There's still that possibility hanging over my head. The longer it takes for him to give Jack what he wants, the more frustrated and desperate Jack will become. Thus the more strained his temper will get, and the thinner his patience with me will be.
In the end, Callum will never give him what he wants. Men like Callum don't back down. Jack all but stole the queen chess piece off his board. To Callum, this is much more than business. This is personal, a declaration of war.
I don't know how much time passes, but soon the lock to the door clicks again. I glance at the bag of fast food that sits untouched on my cot. Lunch, they called it. The fries were so old they'd gone hard by the time they reached me. Breakfast wasn't too bad, a foil-wrapped sandwich that was still warm, so I'm not too eager to eat. At least not yet, although I get the feeling it isn't dinner that they'll be delivering.
I expect one of Jack's men to come walking through the door, but I'm surprised to find the snake himself. The expression I give him is dissatisfaction at best. He's in yet another suit, his polished shoes so shiny I can practically see my reflection in them. Suddenly I feel even dirtier.
“I hear you were desperate to have my attention for a few minutes.” His nose wrinkles, his gaze sweeping the room. “Rather unpleasant of a smell in here, isn't it?”
“Yeah, the second I got a whiff of it, the only thing I could think of was you.”
His icy eyes gleam like a kid's on Christmas morning, like he's enjoying this, while his thin lips twist into a vindictive grin as he takes a step closer to me. My heart stutters, and for one terrified second, I'm sure he's going to hurt me–his hands are balled up into tight fists, and he's preparing to strike. There's nobody here to stop him from taking his hate for Callum out on my body and nobody to tell him he's taken it too far.
Fear slithers down my back, but I swallow it down and steel my spine, forcing myself to look forward, while holding my chin high. I want to cross my arms over my head and brace myself for what's coming, but I will not give him the satisfaction of watching me cower. He snorts softly after dragging the tension out for moments that might as well be an eternity. “I can see why Torrio is so smitten with you. Some men enjoy a sharp-tongued bitch to tell them all the things they secretly think about themselves.”
“Are we talking about you, or Callum?”
His smile widens, and though the satisfaction in my chest builds, I know I'm skating on very thin ice. “Keep it up, girl. You'll soon learn I don't shy away from hurting women who deserve it.”
“Oh, I believe that.”
“Is the food I'm providing you not good enough?” He tosses a dirty look at the guard, who slipped in behind him, the same one who watched me pee earlier. “It's rather disrespectful not to eat what is given to you, don't you think?”
“It's ice cold and looks like somebody scraped it off the floor of their car.”
“Do I need to remind you how important it is that you eat?”
I know how important it is, but this is my only way of fighting back. I can't thank them for the tiny scraps they give me. Maybe it's stupid, being this stubborn, but it's all I have. “By all means, take a look at it and tell me if you think any of it is edible. It was just as bad when it got here as it is now.”