Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
But I don’t.
Forgiveness isn’t possible for those who have no issue harming others. Men who rape, steal, torture, and kill can’t change. All they can do is fake it until they’re convinced they have society fooled. Men who use religion as a tool for corruption cannot be allowed to obtain power. Divinity becomes a weapon in their arsenal, powerful enough to brainwash the masses.
Alaric halts at a large door. Two men with semi-automatics strapped to their backs talk into a walkie-talkie before opening the doors.
“Alaric,” says a thin man with a goatee and greasy hair. He stands from his chair and raises his hand for Alaric to shake.
“Not sure if pleasantries are warranted, Marcus,” Alaric sneers, refusing to shake the man’s hand. “You kidnapped someone important to me. I’m sure you realize that this altercation means the end of any business deals my organization has with yours.”
Marcus laughs. “Dear Alaric, with the money I’ll be gaining today, I could buy your organization ten times over.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Lev says as he opens the briefcase.
“That’s not the amount we agreed on,” Marcus says in disgust. “Where is the rest of it? This is a quarter of a million at most.”
“No suitcase in the world could house that amount of paper bills,” Lev states. “We have your Cayman account, and we’ll wire the rest of the money once the girl is returned to us safely.”
“Levinston Cartwright, I assume?” Marcus asks. “Your parents threw wonderful events with the best party favors. Such a shame you didn’t continue their legacy.”
Lev’s back stiffens, and his eyes go blank. That same look he gets when he’s touched. I want to jump in front of him and stab Marcus until his body goes limp and falls on the floor at Lev’s feet.
Lev looks away from Marcus and shuts the briefcase, regaining his composure. “Yes, well, my parents’ interests and mine differ drastically. Now, I suggest we forgo discussions about the past and continue with our negotiations.”
Marcus laughs and pulls out his phone. “Bring the girl in.”
A large man bursts through the door with my sister. She looks good and has no visible markings. Her eyes are alert, and her hair and clothes are clean.
I free myself from Zeke and run to her, wrapping my arms around her tight. “Joonam.”
Tears fall from Mona's eyes as she returns my hug. She keeps saying sorry in Persian. Mote’as-sefam.
“Shh. I’ve got you. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ve got you.”
“As you can see,” Marcus says, “the girl is fine. So how about you wire that money, and we can all be on our way?”
I wrap my arm around Mona’s shoulder and hand her to Zeke. Pulling my knife, I turn and throw it across the room. The blade lands in Marcus’s throat.
The big dude pulls a gun, but Lev is quicker and puts a bullet between the man’s eyes, causing blood and brain matter to splatter Cyrus’s black hoodie.
Cyrus shrugs. “It’s cool. Everything washes out of black.”
The two guards barge in, but before they can do anything, Cyrus has one in a chokehold while Zeke has the other pinned against the wall, his gun at his head.
“Looks like this turned into a party after all,” Cyrus says as he pulls out his zippo. The guy screams as Cyrus holds a flickering flame against his face, and his flesh burns. “Azadeh, what do you think about me starting a perfume business? There has to be a market for Eau de Burned Flesh.” He bends and sniffs the man’s cheeks. “Even this piece of shit now smells divine.”
My gaze moves from Cyrus to Zeke. He has a spoon held upright under the man’s eye. Shock takes over as I witness how ruthless my sweet Zeke can be. I always grasped that Cyrus was a bit unhinged, but seeing Zeke push a spoon into someone’s flesh and scoop an eye out so effortlessly is a little jarring. Never in a million years did I think him capable of such brutality. The man has a hard time calling me a slut, and here he is, consumed with violence and gore.
The room fills with the screams of the tortured men, so I barely hear Alaric.
“Azadeh, get them under control,” Alaric says as he places a small device on the table. “We gotta get out of here. In five minutes, the place will blow. We gotta go.”
My gaze flits between Zeke and Cyrus, unsure how I can calm their blood lust. While I’m trying to figure it out, Lev solves the problem by putting a bullet between each guard’s eyes.
“Dirty pool, Lev,” Cyrus growls. “I was having a good time.”
“We gotta go,” Lev states.
The six of us sprint out of the building and make it to the limo as the thunderous roar of the explosion echoes behind us and searing heat licks at our backs, leaving us breathless and shaken but alive.