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)
We all stare at Frankie’s motionless figure as we wrap the nylon restraints around our chests. Nothing within view indicates he intends to shackle our hands and feet.
A single rope around our torsos won’t stop us from attacking him.
But the gun will.
Rhett holds all the cards right now, but that will change soon. We’ll make sure he pays for every hair he harmed on Frankie’s head.
We can’t act yet. Not until she’s safe, not until we can take him down without risking her life.
“Why isn’t she moving?” Monty knots the rope around him. “What are you giving her?”
“The drug affects skeletal muscles. She can’t move her mouth, but she’s fully awake. It’s safe. I’m a surgeon, after all.”
“I know what and who you are, Renat Moroz.” Monty cocks his head. “The hush money your family received from my father paid for your medical school and then some. You would’ve had millions left over. Is that how you funded this sick quest?”
We didn’t have time to confirm that detail, but given Rhett’s wide eyes, Monty’s assumption is correct.
“At age twelve, you were assaulted by a pedophile.” Monty directs his eyes at Denver’s corpse. “My father moved you and your family to a location Denver couldn’t find, changed your names, and paid you enough money to keep you quiet. You never forgave your parents for accepting that payoff. So you killed them years later. How am I doing so far?”
That part about his parents’ murders is another assumption.
“How did you know that?” Rhett’s brows pinch together. “No one knows that.”
“I know the devastation that Denver left behind. Unfortunately, I learned about it too late.” Monty hardens his voice. “Why is my son here? His body doesn’t belong among these…things.”
“Oh, Wolfson isn’t dead.”
My head snaps toward Wolf, my heart exploding in my chest. He doesn’t move. His torso doesn’t lift with breath. Or does it? The bulky coat hides those subtle signs of life.
I start to reach for him.
“Don’t touch him.” Rhett stands, bringing my focus back to the gun trained on Frankie. “He’s sedated. Unconscious.”
As Rhett leans over her, her glare follows him, narrowing in determination. My throat tightens as she directs those green eyes at Wolf, then at me.
She blinks twice.
Blink once for yes, twice for no.
Why is she saying no? Wolf isn’t unconscious?
“I wanted to surprise you,” Rhett says. “He’s been alive all these months.”
He let us believe he was dead because he’s a psychopath who thrives on breaking people, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. It satisfies his deep-rooted need for dominance and control.
I know because I was raised by a monster just like him.
This isn’t just about killing us. He wants to flaunt his sense of superiority.
Denver abused him as a child, twisted him into this monster. Denver abused us in the same way, but we weren’t alone. Leo, Wolf, and I had one another. We kept each other sane.
Somewhat.
I don’t feel sane at the moment.
Rhett studies us as if probing for vulnerabilities. He’s so focused on our faces, he doesn’t notice Frankie’s lips moving.
Ensnaring my gaze, she mouths, Red flag, and flicks her eyes to Wolf.
Red flag?
I glance at Leo. He saw it, too.
Didn’t Rhett say she couldn’t move her lips?
She must be fighting the drug. Unless…
I peek down at her hand on Wolf’s lap. Their arms are hidden beneath their sleeves. But if Wolf is conscious, he could’ve discreetly removed her IV.
Leo and I exchange a knowing look as I recall a long-ago conversation with Wolf.
My red flag is I can tell you my red flag with a blank face.
He never clarified what he meant, but I assumed it was his way of saying he’s self-aware and recognizes his problematic behaviors—red flags—without showing emotion—a blank face—which could itself be a red flag in relationships.
Is Frankie trying to tell us he’s awake and faking it?
Only one way to find out.
As Rhett returns to his seat, I place my foot directly over Wolf’s. He’s also barefooted, and the cold toes beneath mine lift, responding to my touch.
Holy fucking shit.
It takes every ounce of strength to keep my face empty and my eyes on Rhett.
Wolf is alive.
He’s alive and awake, and the only thing holding him in that chair is a measly rope around his chest and a gun leveled at Frankie’s head.
He must’ve dislodged the IV line in her arm. How long ago? Does she have full mobility? I don’t know how long it takes the drug to leave her system.
My nerves riot, flooding my body with adrenaline.
One wrong move, and Frankie’s dead.
What’s Wolf’s plan?
“After Rurik died…” Rhett’s finger twitches against the trigger. “I returned to Kodiak Island, to that massive, ostentatious mansion on the cliff. I found the flight logs, the blueprints for this cabin, and those photos stuffed in a leather-bound copy of Pushkin’s poems on his bookshelf.” He looks at Monty. “You hadn’t arrived yet to clean out the place. I took the book with the documents inside and followed the trail to Alvis Duncan.”