Page 117 of Irreversible

Then he has the audacity to address me. “What do you say, Mr. Porter? Are you ready to meet your new master?”

“I don’t know. Are you ready to die today?” The threat oozes from my raw throat. “Because mark my words, I’m coming after every last one of you.”

The Timekeeper chuckles. “You did say you were looking for a worthy challenger,” he tells the gathered men. “I’m afraid this one comes with an attitude to match.”

“All the better.” Amusement laces through the buyer’s words. “We aren’t looking for someone to roll over and play dead without a fight.”

I open my mouth to promise more violence than he can handle, but?—

“Are we just going to stand around and chat for a while, or will we be seeing what we paid for someday?” A voice that hasn’t spoken until now interjects.

Stagnant air catches in my throat.

For a moment, the world goes completely still.

“I’m afraid patience isn’t Langford’s strong suit,” his father explains.

Langford. The older son.

The one my captor had never heard of.

Because…

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

This changes everything.

My battered heart races inside my chest. Tension coils in my muscles, ready to spring at the first chance I get. Because the tables have just been turned. I’m not alone, praying to the powers-that-be for an unlikely miracle.

It’s already here.

The bag is ripped off my head, and my blurry eyes land on a tall blond man standing several feet away.

“You smell like shit.” Tanner grimaces.

I nearly weep.

But there’s no time for a reunion. Instead, our eyes slide to the man who has tortured and tormented me. Who has taken untold numbers of people. Who killed my sister.

The man who is about to fuckinggo down.

He’s too busy pandering to his guests—apologizing for the unkempt condition of their purchase, promising I will be cleaned up before delivery—to realize that “Langford” and I aren’t strangers. He doesn’t catch the shadow of movement in the doorway or notice the billionaire’s entourage reaching for their guns.

Tanner goes for his. “HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Chaos erupts. Shouts ring out, echoing off the concrete.

But the men who work for my captor are here, too. And they have weapons.

Everything moves in slow motion, like we’re underwater. Dammit, I should be in the thick of it, taking people down, doingsomething.But I’m trapped here, on this chair, watching the black-clad members of a SWAT team rush down the stairs like an army of giant ants.

My head is swimming.

Someone is behind me, unlocking the handcuffs, cutting the straps. Catching my shoulders when I slump forward, depletedof energy. “Are you okay, sir?” It’s a young guy, a kid I don’t know, propping me up.

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