Page 27 of Wild Angel

It’s where he keeps all his bitches.

Instead, Earpiece leads me to the elevator. Sergio has disappeared, so it’s just me and the silent hulk. Thank God there’s no elevator music in here. My fragile mind wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

When I tug on my wrists, Earpiece just grips them tighter. “Where are you taking me?”

Not a word. He doesn’t even have the decency to tell me to fuck off. I tug harder. “When Savage finds out you touched me—”

The elevator door pings as it opens. There’s a long hallway, but it doesn’t look like the same one where I had my room. It almost looks like…

The one leading to Savage’s father.

My heart hiccups in my chest, and then starts a frenzied race to some invisible finish line.

This can’t be good.

What the hell is Bryan going to think when he sees me like this? Before, when I was a guy, he gave me a fucking “job”, the end result of which would have been my brains splattered all over that food truck’s tasty burger.

But now?

I start kicking and struggling. I even twist around and try to bite off a chunk of Earpiece’s arm. But this guy could have easily gone into professional wrestling, because he subdues me seemingly without effort, biceps bulging.

We stop at another door before we reach Bryan’s room though.

At first, I thank God.

Then I curse Satan.

Because when Earpiece opens another door, shoves me inside, and slams it closed behind me, it might as well have been the lid on my coffin.

I’m in a bedroom. Whoever sleeps here, likes minimal, modern decor. Glass, chrome, white. White bed, white couches, white carpet.

Sergio is in a single white armchair across the room from the door, smoking a cigar.

There’s no one else in the room.

And he’s holding a belt.

Chapter Seventeen

Savage

“Hurry,” Vito says as soon as my car door is open a crack. The urgency in his dark eyes, the way his hands are shaking…my body instantly goes numb.

“Where is she?” I yell, already racing for the villa’s front doors. Vito is right behind me, and he calls back, “Father’s room!”

Hot and cold spikes push into my fingertips. One of Sergio’s sicarios bar my way, but when I take out my Beretta APX and aim it at him, he steps aside.

I’m not sure why that worked, but I don’t have time to think about it.

Vito’s panicked face spoke volumes.

I hear him behind me, but I’m already outpacing him.

The stairs blur under me as I race up them. My lungs pump like bellows, the air just as hot, just as thick. Choking me.

Or is that fear?

I clear the third-floor landing and sprint down the hall.

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