Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
This isn’t my senior year at Barrington, and she’s not my chosen. I knew Charlotte was her daughter the moment I found out her true identity. I wanted revenge and saw an opportunity. Even though I knew it was a setup. I couldn’t deny I wanted her since the day I saw her on her father’s yacht.
Four years ago
I was kept in a cell—starved and drugged—for who knows how long. Four men had entered, and I didn’t even bother to fight. What’s the point? I’m not saying I’m giving up, but I refuse to give that bitch the satisfaction of watching me lose a fight when she’s stacked the odds against me.
I woke up after that, thinking I was buried alive. I couldn’t see, my nose was plugged, and I couldn’t move—the space so small. The only source of oxygen was through a tube that I could feel in my mouth. At times the airflow was cut off, forcing me to panic, no matter how hard I tried not to. I was burning up—my body on fire and sweating to death. I’m pretty sure I was hallucinating, unable to see or hear anything and unable to control the body spasms.
I knew it was the pits. I don’t know how long I was in there—felt like days—but I eventually lost consciousness, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed.
Now, I’m returning to the basement for more torture, more training.
I’m shoved through the plastic curtains by the Lords who remain covered in cloaks and masks. I immediately come to a stop. Saint and Kashton both hang from their tied wrists secured to the ceiling in the center of the room. It’s the first time I’ve seen either one of them since Ashtyn shot my brother. How long has it been…days, weeks, months? Time doesn’t exist down here. At least they’re both alive.
Kash looks like fucking shit. Bruised, cut, and bleeding, he’s on the brink of death. His skin ashen and breathing labored. Scanning Saint’s body, I see he’s got a fresh 666 brand not far from his bullet wound. He hasn’t been down here long. Maybe a day. At the most two.
“Oh, you’re back.” The bitch turns and smiles at me. Slapping Saint’s fresh brand, he grunts. “Told you Haidyn would be okay,” she tells him.
“What do you want?” I ask. It’s a stupid question, but for us to finally be seeing each other, there has to be a reason. It’s all about mind games with her.
“I’m here to teach you to be men.”
Kash snorts and spits blood from his busted lips onto the floor.
“I feel like we’ve gotten off to a rough start. Let me introduce myself. My name is Isabella, but you can call me Costello.”
“Fuck you, bitch.” Kash groans, his head falling back to look up at his restrained wrists as his body hangs from the ceiling. “I’m not calling you shit.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Do you know why I chose to move into this hellhole for six months?”
We say nothing, and she steps into me. I bow my chest and fist my hands that want to rip her head from her body. Too many of her men are here, and they outnumber us. Kash looks as weak as I feel, and who knows how Saint feels since his surgery or what they’ve done to him.
“I wanted to be part of making the next generation of Spade brothers “good boys,” but the real reason is for revenge.”
Giving me her back, she claps her black Versace heels on the concrete floor, splashing the puddles of blood and water as she walks over to a rolling cart that contains scissors, knives, and pliers. “You…” She picks up a knife, running her fingers up and down the rusty-looking blade, and her red lips turn up. “Killed my husband.”
“Fucking…lying…bitch.” Saint gets out, finally speaking. “The Lords wouldn’t allow you to come here for revenge.”
“As you’ll learn during our time together, I can be very convincing.” Her smile grows. “They knew I’d get the job done. Plus, revenge is the best motivation.”
I slowly approach her, and she doesn’t even flinch as she tilts her head up to meet my glare. “If I did kill your husband, he deserved it.”
Her face turns red, and she slices the blade against my upper thigh, cutting me.
I grind my teeth. “Goddammit.” I hiss under my breath, placing all my weight on the other as I assess the damage, watching the blood run down my leg. It’s not deep or anything. My main concern should be an infection due to how filthy it was.
“When I leave Carnage, you will remember Isabella Schults as the one who taught you how to be men.”
“Schults?” I repeat out loud, my pulse starting to race as I recognize it. Fuck, our initiation last year…the yacht that was named Isabella, and her husband owned it.