Page 35 of Inheritance
“Where?”
“Ivan. Ivan took her.”
“Where?”
I twisted the blade just enough to make him yelp.
“Hey, you’re gonna want to see this.”
Damien’s voice cut through the tension, rough with despair.
He was staring into the crate.
I stepped closer, my gut tightening at the sight of two tarp wrapped bodies.
I dropped the knife and ripped open the first tarp.
Michael’s face was slack, head tilted too far back. A deep, purple bruise wrapped around his throat, his mouth slightly open. I ripped open the other tarp.
Tony… Tony had been torn apart. Bullet holes riddled his chest, blood dried in thick, dark patches on his shirt. His arms were twisted over his stomach, as if he was still trying to protect himself. I let out a breath of relief and sorrow. She was still alive. She had to be. Damien was sitting against the crate, his face buried in his hands.
I stood still for a long moment, staring down at them, a cold feeling tingling over my skin. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the distant sound of the fat man running away.
I came back to myself and chased him down.
Reaching him, I gripped his face from behind, pulled his head back as he fell to his knees, and slowly slit his throat. Good and deep.
He gurgled, clawing desperately at his gaping wound. I searched him, he was unarmed. Luckily for us. That was sloppy. I took his phone then crouched down next to him, and he looked up at me, desperation gleaming in his eye.
"You can't unslit your throat, no matter how much you grab at it."
His mouth worked like a fish out of water, clinging to life one moment, staring into nothing the next.
“I’ll get some men here for Tony and Michael,” Damien said. Blood pooling toward his feet. “And tell their families they’re gone.”
“We’ll need a tow truck and a car cover. Make it quick.”
He nodded and made the call.
Sophia was gone.
Sophia
My hands were bound behind me, tape pressed over my mouth, a hood pulled tight over my head. Too tight. The fabric smothered me, clinging to my skin with every panicked breath.
The car jerked sharply. I tumbled like a ragdoll in the trunk, my shoulder slamming against the unforgiving metal. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, but my mind barely registered it over the suffocating panic closing in. My lungs pulled in short, useless gasps. The air inside the hood was stale, humid with my own breath.
Breathing was hard. Staying calm was harder. Impossible. My chest burned, my pulse hammering so fast it blurred into one endless, frantic throb. My stomach twisted, my muscles coiled so tight they burned.
I had no idea how long we'd been driving, whether we were going in circles or heading straight toward whatever fate waited for me at the end of the road.
The engine growled, the tires squealing faintly against asphalt.
I tried to focus on anything—anything at all. A change in speed, a sudden stop, the muffled noise of traffic or open air.But my thoughts scattered the moment I grabbed onto them, slipping through my mind like water. My body shuddered. My fingers twitched uselessly against the rough rope biting into my wrists, burning as I twisted against them, trying to loosen them, trying to do something. But there was nothing I could do.
The car began to slow.
No, no, no.
