Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Who was the person?
Though I didn’t see them, I can deduce who it could be. He’d said, “Oh, little brother, what have you done this time?”
That means it had to be Caius or Gareth Crowne.
I know nothing about these men, nor have I spoken to them before, but I have a hunch it was Caius. The voice was cold and utterly devoid of emotion. From what I’d seen on his face last night, he fits the bill.
His words are a clue, though.
He’d asked Theo, who I’m pretty sure wasn’t even in the room, what he’d done when kidnapping me. Even though he didn’t give any tells in his tone, I could sense his displeasure and annoyance at the situation.
I’m a problem.
A mess to clean up.
He also didn’t sound particularly surprised. This is valuable information. Perhaps Theo is known for doing impulsive things like kidnapping girls. Maybe that’s what happened to Megan. Eventually, these men are going to find out I’m not something that can be swept under the literal rug and forgotten.
I’m someone important.
Well, at least my dad is.
Pride surges through me. It’s not often I feel pleasure at having the Langston last name. In this moment, I’m incredibly grateful.
They can’t make me disappear without consequences.
A small, crazed laugh bubbles out of me. Then, because I can’t control it, I giggle until I’m crying. I just have to survive long enough to see justice served.
No one comes to my aid, even after my rollercoaster emotional meltdown in the box. For all I know, they can’t even hear me. If there were other captives nearby, I’d assume they’d have cried out to me.
I’m all alone.
My bladder throbs again despite uncontrollably releasing when the door was opened. All I want is a shower, a bed, and to pretend this never happened.
But it is happening.
I can’t pretend this reality away.
If only they’d have let me keep my purse. My captors aren’t stupid. It makes me wonder, though, if Bastian has tried to call. He’s never one to be ignored for long.
A raised voice has me freezing. My thoughts become laser focused as I strain to hear what’s being said. It’s deep and definitely male. I can almost make out another voice, also deep.
Are they having an argument?
“I didn’t know!”
The shout was loud and closer. My heart is pounding in my chest, making my ears throb too, but I’m determined to listen. I still my breathing and don’t move so I can make out what else is being said.
“…impulsive…”
“At least I have a pulse!”
“…won’t be pleased…”
The voices fade again. If I had to guess, it’s Theo defending his actions and Caius scolding him. Question is, what happens to me after this argument?
Maybe they’ll just let me go.
The stupidity of that thought has me shaking my head. These men are powerful people. Letting me go would cause even more problems.
I could offer to sign an NDA.
They kidnapped you, girl. They’re beyond following legalities.
“You tell him,” Caius growls from close by. “In the meantime, I’m going to try to fix this.”
A door slams after that, rattling my wooden cage.
Then the footsteps are back.
The jangling keys are back.
The blinding light is back.
The gun in my face is back.
Caius is back.
Before I can scream or fight, something sharp pricks my neck. It only takes a few seconds as heat rushes from the puncture site.
Everything goes black.
Romy
I wake to my head pounding something awful.
What happened?
Where am I?
As I crack my eyes open, they begin to water from a bright light. My heart rate kicks up, making my head hurt more as I remember where I am.
Stolen.
I was stolen from a bar and am in the Crownes’ prison.
Except I’m no longer in the wooden box.
I’m lying on something smooth and cold.
And I’m naked.
Realizing I don’t have one stitch of clothing on has me shrieking in horror. I attempt to cover my breasts with one hand and the other down below. My entire body shudders with full-bodied shivers as several long minutes pass by.
I realize I’m tense and waiting for an attack.
For someone to finish what they started.
Nothing happens.
Blinking away the fear and horrible headache, I wriggle into a sitting position, never stopping covering my most vulnerable body parts. A quick look around tells me I’m in an enormous bathroom. A really nice bathroom.
Everything is white.
White marble countertops, white stone floors, white framed mirrors above the white sinks, white folded towels on white shelves, white walls, a white robe hanging from a hook on a white door. The only things not white in the entire space are the nickel fixtures.
It’s not a sterile white either.
It’s actually a pretty white. A soft white. Like doves or cotton or frilly lace.
This bathroom is a far cry from my coffin-like hole in the floor.
Slowly, I climb shakily to my feet. The scent of urine and body odor infiltrates my nostrils.