Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
I should get back to the kitchen. No one was paying attention, and for all Aydin knew right now, I was sleeping. I could grab some provisions and be two miles downriver before he realized.
But…
Another cry pierced the air, and my curiosity got the better of me.
Continuing down the hall, I followed the sounds and rounded a corner, seeing white and blue ahead, as well as steam rising into the air through the open door down the hall.
Hiding behind the frame, I peered inside, taken aback by the sight of an indoor pool.
And heated, judging by the steam rolling off the surface.
I scoffed. Rich boys…
Two men rolled around on the mat laid out on the white-tiled pool deck, and I inched in, hearing Aydin talk to Rory as he pinned him to the mat.
“Ask for it,” he taunted him. “He can have it. All you have to do is ask.”
Rory Geardon shot up, grabbing Aydin by the neck and trying to throw him over, but Aydin flipped him over, his naked chest on Rory’s bare back as he whispered something in his ear.
Rory bared his teeth, pain in his blue eyes at whatever Aydin was saying. And déjà vu hit me, remembering a similar wrestling match I’d seen with Will.
Wood creaked next to me, and I tore my eyes away from the match and looked at the wall, feeling a vibration behind it on my shoulder.
It sounded like the movement I heard upstairs.
I stood up straight, ready to lean in and listen some more, but then I saw shadows fall behind me and turned my eyes to see Taylor, followed by Will and Micah, heading for the pool.
They stalked past me, each one throwing a look before stepping inside the room. I hung back, watching as Rory growled under Aydin’s attack.
“All the pleasure you got from their pain,” Aydin told him. “You knew it was going to cost something someday, didn’t you?” He bit his ear, pulling it as every muscle on Rory’s body tensed.
Aydin released it.
“But no,” the alpha continued, “you only dish it when you’re sure you can win. On girls who couldn’t even tell you were coming for them. You knew that wasn’t going to last forever, right?”
What was he talking about? Was that why Rory was here?
Taylor smiled, clearly enjoying the scene. Micah stood at the edge of the mat, looking helpless as he stared down red-eyed.
Girls who couldn’t even tell you were coming.
What did that mean?
“Say it, socio.” Aydin leaned into his ear again. “‘I’m. So. Fucked. Up.’”
Rory resisted, trying to turn away—find a way out—but the cut on his brow dripped blood into his eye, and he just remained silent.
“I’m,” Aydin recited, egging him on, “so fucked up.” And then he dropped his voice to a hard whisper we all could hear. “In the head.”
A sob escaped Rory, and he squeezed his eyes shut like he was afraid it was true.
I looked over at Will, his gaze locked on the scene playing out.
But he must’ve sensed me watching because he looked over at me, his expression unwavering but his eyes hard.
Why aren’t they helping him? The only person who seemed to be enjoying the show was Taylor. Was this how Micah got injured? Fighting Aydin?
“They’re never going to let you out,” Aydin told the man under him. “I’m your family now.”
Rory gasped, not looking happy about it, and Aydin shot off him, standing up and walking to the small table at the edge of the pool.
Taking a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, he poured himself a glass of Scotch and threw it back, everyone watching him.
I thought Taylor said they didn’t have liquor here.
Will walked over, and Aydin set his glass down, telling him, “Just ask.”
But Will just grabbed for the bottle, and Aydin grabbed him, a hand at the back of Will’s neck and the other squeezing his throat.
“Look at me,” he told Will, their noses almost touching.
And then, Aydin’s gaze flashed over to me, a bitter smile playing on his lips and a sinking feeling hit my gut.
He controlled everything.
Shoving Will away, he brought his hand down hard, slapping Will in the face.
“Ask,” he said again.
Will stumbled, his back to me, but after a moment, he rose again, standing tall.
Aydin shook his head, charging up to him and slapping the same side again and again, pushing Will back until he lost his footing, spun around, and dropped to his hands and knees.
Tears filled my eyes, and I stared down at Will as he took a moment to catch his breath, and then he rose back up, facing Aydin and steeling his spine for more.
What the hell was he doing? Will could fight. He wasn’t even trying.
What had happened to him?
Aydin stepped up, nose to nose, and gazed into Will’s eyes. “He’s hurting,” he said to him. “Ask me or beat me, and you can have the whole bottle.”