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)
The cabin may look brighter and cleaner than we left it, but I see the shadows of what used to be here. I see the bloodstains of my childhood on the floor, the scars on the walls, the bones in the fire pit, and the danger lurking in Denver’s bedroom down the hall.
And I see her.
Frankie, lying on the table, her robed body stock-still and her hair spread like a halo around her.
My heart stops, but I force myself to keep walking.
She’s not restrained.
She’s not moving, either.
An IV fluid bag sits on the table beside her hip. I follow the line to the opening in the sleeve of her robe, where her arm hangs on Wolf’s lap.
Wolf.
He’s here. Dead. And Frankie’s drugged.
Horror cleaves through me.
Rhett sits at the head of the table, like a king on his throne. He holds a gun to Frankie’s head, his finger resting on the trigger.
My blood turns to ice, my rage a cold, hard knot in my chest.
I’m going to eviscerate him. Remove his entrails with claws and teeth. But not yet. He has her, and as long as he holds that gun, I must wear my human skin and maintain my domesticated mask, the face I show in the civilized world.
No sudden moves. No growling or tensing. Nothing that might startle him into squeezing that trigger.
Beside me, Leo and Monty fight their own inner battles. They’ll get their pound of flesh. But only if we remain calm, stall as long as we can, and give our plan time to play out.
A plan we never discussed. Not with words. That alone is goddamn unnerving.
Entering the kitchen, I stumble as my eyes dart from one corpse to the next. The two bodies I don’t recognize must be Alvis Duncan and his wife. That would explain why they went missing.
Numb. I’m numb and frozen with rage at the sight of Frankie lying at the center of all this blood-chilling carnage.
Then my gaze lands on Wolf.
His lifeless body slumps against the rope that holds him in the chair. I knew this was a possibility. I knew I might see the remains of the man I loved, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it.
My brother.
Monty’s son.
I can’t look at Monty and Leo. My own pain stabs too sharply, threatening to double me over as the knife of grief twists in my gut. I absorb it, bury the sorrow, and let it fuel my fury.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Leo’s lips curl into an arctic smile, a predator’s grin. “Nice touch with the Mad Tea Party. Or is this The Last Supper? Do you fuck the guests before you eat them? Asking for a friend.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Rhett gestures at the empty chairs. “After all, I saved a seat just for you.”
“Oh, joy. I’m famished.” Leo isn’t just ready for this. He’s fucking craving it.
Bloodlust inhabits every cell of his body, as much a part of him as his scars and his pain.
Nothing will stop us. Not the gun in Rhett’s hand. Not the ghosts that haunt us.
Our demons are meaner, scarier, and they’re fucking angry.
“They stink.” Monty scowls at Denver’s corpse.
“Impossible. I embalmed them.” Rhett stands, his expression cold and detached, as he holds the gun to the top of Frankie’s head. “There are bombs on both of those planes out there. I just activated them. Unless you know how to disarm a booby-trapped ignition bomb, it will detonate if you start either of those engines.” He gestures at his fancy satellite phone. “Password protected.”
Controlling those planes is his safety net, one we know too well. If we kill him, we’re not leaving Hoss.
Or so he thinks.
“What is that?” His glare narrows on Monty’s feet.
We’re naked, vulnerable, and exposed—precisely how he wants us. Except for the slippers Monty donned on his way out of the house.
“I watched you demolish your home when you received the photo I sent.” Rhett chews on his cheek, the gun unwavering on Frankie. “Those slippers came out of the box of mementos you hurled across the room. They mean something.”
“A year ago today, Denver raped my son and my wife.” Monty stands taller, an imposing pillar of confidence despite his nudity. “He raped them while wearing these slippers. The same slippers he stole from me the night he stole Frankie. If I die today, I thought it only fitting that I die wearing them.”
Dramatic.
And effective.
“Sit at the table.” Rhett directs his eyes at the empty seats. “Use the rope and tie yourselves to the chairs.”
I’m already moving, a beast in human form, muscles tensed and focused. The time for bloodshedding is almost here.
I take a seat beside Wolf, and Leo sits on his other side, closest to Rhett. Monty lowers into the chair on my left near Frankie’s feet.