Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
My thumb brushes against his wrist.
There.
The sticky edge of a plastic dressing holding something in place. The IV line. It’s right there. So close.
I pick at the tape, my movements clumsy and weak, but I keep at it, scratching and pulling until I free one side.
My heart bangs so hard I’m afraid it’ll stop, but I don’t care. I have to save him.
But when I try to pull the line free, my fingers refuse to cooperate. I can’t grip it hard enough, can’t close my hand around it.
Panic spikes again, but I push it down.
Focus, Frankie. Keep trying.
Just as I’m about to lose hope, his wrist flicks beneath my fingers.
Oh, God, he’s helping me. He’s fighting, too.
I grip the line as best I can, and as he pulls his arm away, the IV slides free.
Holy fuck.
He’s free of the drug.
If it’s short-acting, he’ll have full consciousness soon. We might have a chance.
The sound of a plane rumbles overhead, shaking the cabin and rattling the windows.
They’re here.
My entire world.
The men Rhett plans to kill.
Maybe, just maybe, Wolf and I can stop him. Maybe we can save them, save each other, and end this nightmare once and for all.
Hope is a dangerous thing.
It crushes, darling.
Not this time, Wolf.
Hope is alive, a flicker of light in the darkness. And right now, it’s all I have.
The strength in my fingers drains as quickly as it came, and my hand falls limp.
Footsteps sound, announcing Rhett’s return.
Wolf’s arm twitches again, moving, slipping back into the sleeve where it was, hiding the dislodged IV.
Rhett stops beside Wolf and stares down at my hand on Wolf’s lap.
Please don’t check his IV. Please don’t look.
“He’s not dead.” Rhett tilts his head, searching my wide eyes. “I’m giving him Propofol.”
He lifts the hem of Wolf’s coat, revealing the bottom of the fluid bag beneath the zipper. The bag must be hanging from his neck to keep it upright.
He doesn’t check the IV line under Wolf’s sleeve.
Why would he? Neither of us can move.
Propofol is a sedative-hypnotic that typically wears off within five to ten minutes.
How long has it been?
“Wolfson, Kodiak, Leonid, and Montgomery.” Rhett ticks their names off his fingers. “I kept the Strakh men alive and brought them here to test their strength and loyalty.” He paces to the end of the table, standing above my head. “Wolf has been quite helpful over the past ten months, feeding me information about the family. Reluctantly, of course. It turns out he’ll do anything to save your life, even if he did aim a gun at you in the end. He wouldn’t have pulled that trigger. He doesn’t have it in him.”
He reaches behind him and removes a gun from his waistband. A pistol I recognize.
He found the armory.
“I have it in me.” He lowers into the chair at the head of the table and presses the barrel of the gun to my skull. “Let’s see how deep their loyalties run.”
My mind is a hurricane of panic, spinning faster and faster, whipping thoughts through my head so violently I can’t hold onto any of them. I can’t think, can’t focus, can’t breathe, because all I see is Wolf, sitting there like a corpse.
That’s exactly what his brothers and father will see when they walk in.
“They followed my instructions,” Rhett says. “I just watched them disembark the plane and remove their clothes. No one’s with them. I’m impressed.”
They won’t cooperate. They’re going to rage and lose control and get themselves shot.
I need to get a message to them, to let them know in about five minutes, Wolf will be fully conscious and ready to fight.
But I’m so utterly, completely trapped.
As the entryway door swings open, my heart explodes, slamming into my throat.
“Come in. Slowly. Hands where I can see them.” Rhett digs the gun against my head.
As my beautiful, naked men approach the kitchen, a warm hand curls around my wrist.
Wolf’s fingers move with strength and purpose, sliding under the sleeve of my robe. With one, smooth pull, he frees the IV line from my arm.
Fuck.
Yes.
Fifteen minutes.
I don’t have a plan, but one thing is certain. We’re going to fuck shit up.
63
Kodiak
—
I stalk into the cabin, holding up my hands, with Monty and Leo at my side. The familiar creak of the floors echoes in my ears, a sound I’ve heard a thousand times before.
But this time, it’s different.
Everything is different.
The stench of death swamps the air, buzzing with the memories that haunt this place.
This is where I grew up. Where I was abused by a madman. Where I met Frankie.
It’s changed since then.
I’ve changed…on the surface.
But my understructure remains the same. A feral animal still lives inside me. It helped me survive these hills, and those instincts guide me now.
As I follow Rhett’s voice to the kitchen, heat trickles from the vents. He fixed the generator, repaired the floors, and cleared away the dust.