Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
The leader of the mercenaries had a gun aimed right at Cauldron’s head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Sorry for the convenience,” Cauldron said through gritted teeth. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
“We’re here for the woman—”
“I know exactly why you’re here, and you aren’t getting it.” Cauldron cocked the gun and stepped forward. “Now get the fuck out before I stain the plaster with your brains.”
All the men raised their weapons and pointed straight at Cauldron. Twelve to one.
The leader kept the gun pointed straight at Cauldron’s forehead, the barrel just inches from his face. “I have my orders—”
Blood sprayed the wall, and he crumpled.
Cauldron wasn’t the one who fired.
Grave appeared in the doorway, holding the smoking handgun. “Lower your weapons. Now.”
The remainder of the men all returned their guns to their holsters.
Grave stared at Cauldron.
Cauldron stared back.
It lasted for seconds, nearly a minute.
What the fuck?
Grave finally nodded to his men.
They all left the premises, leaving the hostages unharmed.
Now it was just the two of them, staring at each other in the dark, both furious with the other.
Cauldron lowered the shotgun. “You have Jeremiah.”
“Or he betrayed you.”
“I don’t buy my men’s loyalty,” Cauldron said. “I earn it.”
Grave seemed to feel my presence because he raised his chin and looked up at me.
I stared back, my heart like a stone in my stomach. It was the same look he always gave me, like his possession had never changed. He owned me then and he owned me now, and a change of hands wouldn’t alter that fact.
He turned his head back to Cauldron.
Another long stare ensued.
Silently, Grave walked out. His back was turned to Cauldron, giving him the perfect shot.
But Cauldron didn’t take it.
Hugo brushed off the whole thing like it was another day in the life and immediately got to work on the bloody wall. Security removed the dead body that leaked blood all over the hardwood floor. It all happened wordlessly, like everyone had done this before and was paid well enough to put up with it.
I stayed at the top of the stairs, still in utter shock.
“You okay?” Cauldron came to my side, his hand reaching for my arm.
“I’m fine. But—what happened?”
“I know how he thinks. But he also knows how I think.”
My eyes shifted back and forth, confused by the statement. “What?”
“He has Jeremiah somewhere. I need to get him back.” Cauldron walked past me down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“Whoa, hold up.”
He kept walking.
“I’m talking to you.”
He turned back around, no longer patient but visibly annoyed.
Instead of bursting with all the questions I’d already asked several times, I had an epiphany. “He’s family.”
His poker face was strong.
“That’s why he won’t hurt you. And that’s why you won’t kill him.”
He gave nothing away. “I have more important shit that requires my attention right now—”
“Why won’t you admit it?”
“We’ll talk about this later.” He continued to his bedroom.
“You don’t look enough alike…so he’s not your brother.”
Cauldron quickly changed his clothes then grabbed his suitcase.
“He’s your cousin. Is that it?” I followed him as he walked out, one bag over his shoulder with the handle of the suitcase in his other hand. “Why won’t you just tell me?” I followed him all the way down the stairs to the entryway. His men had already pulled the car around for him, were probably gassing up the plane as we spoke. “Cauldron—”
“He’s my half brother.” He finally turned to look at me, the rage written on his face. “But that doesn’t make him family.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
CAULDRON
Three days later, I had Jeremiah back.
Grave’s men had taken him a week ago, forced him into being a snitch. He was bruised and battered now, his face so swollen he looked like he’d been stung by a hive of wasps. The dead men were stacked in the other room, and the lock to his cell was opened.
He remained on the floor against the wall, either too afraid to move or physically unable. “I’m sorry…they tortured me.”
I couldn’t hold a grudge, couldn’t hold him accountable for his betrayal, not when he wasn’t in the game like I was. After a pitiful stare, I extended my hand to him.
He studied it timidly before he took it.
I pulled him to his feet, listening to him grimace the whole way up. “We’ll get you to a hospital.”
“You–you aren’t going to kill me?”
“No.” I threw his arm over my shoulder and walked him out of the building.
“But you should kill me.”
“Do you want me to kill you?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I just… I was the one who told them you were coming.”
“Given the circumstances, I understand.” We made it outside, where the men and the cars were waiting.
“You do?” He pulled his arm away and swayed slightly on the spot.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
His eyes shifted back and forth between mine in disbelief.