Page 119 of The Colour of Revenge
I can't remember clearly. But there's one name that rises, searing through the fog:my father. He’s the only one who knew where we'd be. He’s the only one with the means to pull this off.
I try to move, but my body protests. My wrists and ankles are bound tightly, the rough ropes biting into my skin as I sit in an unforgiving metal chair. Panic claws at my chest. I’m not alone.
I catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of the room.
A shadow.
A figure leaning against the wall.
They don't step forward right away, but I feel their presence like a weight.
Like something is waiting. Watching.
Then, he steps into the dim light.
My heart stops. My breath hitches.
Him.
My father.
He stalks toward me with that predatory grace, his every step measured, deliberate, as though he’s savouring the moment. His eyes lock onto mine, cold and assessing.
“You’re a hard one to track down,” he says, his voice low and calculating. He tilts his head like a hunter examining its prey.
I refuse to look away. I hold his gaze, unwavering. The fire in my chest blazes brighter. I will not cower before him.
“Once I learned of your escape, I tried. But you covered your tracks well,” he continues, unbothered by my silence. His tone doesn’t change, doesn’t break. He’s enjoying this.
“But it was your need for vengeance that was your downfall,” he adds, his smile twisting with mockery. “Did you think no one would notice? All those powerful men going missing? Each one connected tomydaughter?”
The laugh that follows is low, cruel, and it chills me to the bone. I grind my teeth, rage flooding me like a dam breaking, but I keep my mouth shut.
“I’ve been watching you for months,” he goes on, taking slow steps toward me, as if savouring my discomfort. “You and your little boyfriend. Quite the pair.”
I can feel the blood pounding in my temples, the heat of my anger rising to a boiling point. But I stay silent. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“I hope you don’t mind myfindingyou,” he says, his words dripping with dark amusement. “But I couldn’t just wait, could I? At first, I wanted to find you because each sale gave me a nice chunk of change—that was one of the stipulations. I don’t appreciate you costing me.” He pauses, eyes narrowing. "But then, once I saw who you were targeting, I realised I couldn’t wait any longer. I knew it wouldn’t be long before you came for me. And I can’t have that.”
A sick twist of fear knots in my stomach, but I won’t show it. I won’t let him see that he’s won.
“What are you going to do to me?” I spit the words out, venom lacing my voice.
His smile widens, cruel and predatory. He steps closer, his shadow swallowing mine. "I’m going to break you," he says, his voice a low promise. His hand snaps out, grabbing my chin with an iron grip, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Then, once you're ready, I’ll sell you again. But this time, you won’t be getting away."
“Where’s Nate?” I ask, hating the way my voice trembles at the thought of anything happening to him.
My father lets out a cold laugh. “He’s fine. Left him with a bad concussion, that’s all.”
A mountain of tension leaves my shoulders, and I let out a short breath of relief.
His smirk deepens. "That's cute," he muses. "The way you care about him."
“Why are you doing this?” I barely manage to choke out the question, my voice hoarse with fury.
He smiles again, this time with a gleam in his eyes that makes my blood run cold. "Because you’re mine."
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