Page 175 of The Contract

I said I wanted him dead.

Fat tears spill out, raw and hot.

Sobs claw their way up, thick with regret.

This time, I don’t fight them.

I just slide down the wall, cold stone biting into my back, and let it happen.

Like some caged animal finally realizing the truth.

No one’s coming.

And Dante D’Angelo is dead.

And… I love him.

CHAPTER 60

Riley

At some point, I must’ve passed out.

Body wrecked. Heart emptied. Mind long gone.

“Beautiful.” I hear a voice. Dante?

“Which one’s for sale?”

Now that’s definitely not Dante.

Voices creep in like the fog, a thick, low rumble rotting with all the wrong intentions.

My brain scrambles to catch up, every instinct screaming wake up now.

I jolt upright as my vision spins. My hand latches around a bar as I scramble to my feet.

Mila’s still out. So soft and vulnerable in ways that gut me.

With a small crowd of voices approaching, I don’t think. I move.

I throw myself in front of her, shielding what little I can.

And then, they’re here.

Masked men in tailored suits. Polished shoes. Flashing rings. Eyes hollow behind bone-white masks.

Staring. Pointing. Whispering like I’m some exhibit behind glass.

One of them flips through a glossy black catalog, intrigued.

“Think they’ve taken it up the ass yet?” One of them chuckles, lunging for me, fingers splayed and eager.

I jerk back just in time, nearly tripping over Mila.

Another one smirks behind his mask, tapping the bars with his knuckle like he’s ringing a bell.

“How long can you last?” His eyes are bottomless disks. Black. And…I blink, fury and disbelief congealing in realization. Vincent fucking Shaw? “What do you think, Andre?”

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