Chapter 6
I’d been rotting in this black hole for three days, my body covered in welts from their whip. The boss was having a complete meltdown, hurling objects across the room while screaming at me.
“You’re the heiress of Virell! So why the hell hasn’t anyone sent a single dollar in three days! Are you even really part of that family!”
I let out a bitter laugh. The Virell family only had one real princess, but it sure wasn’t me.
“This is your last shot,” he snarled, approaching me with a syringe. “This stuff will amplify your pain by ten. You call your family-if they agree to wire money immediately, I’ll let you walk. If not, we’re shipping your fingers back to them one by one!”
“No, please don’t-AHHH!” The liquid shot through my neck, making my heart race and my vision blur. He shoved the phone into my trembling hands. “Make the call!”
I scrolled through my contacts with shaking fingers. Dad and Damon’s lines went straight to busy signals, Celeste didn’t answer at all. Finally, I reached Renric’s name.
“Yeah?” His voice came through over thundering music and party noise.
“Renric!” I gasped, clinging to his voice. “You have to get here with money now! They drugged me and they’re about to start cutting off my fingers!”
The bass was so loud I could barely think straight. “What… what’s all that noise? Where are you?”
“Look, Elara, it’s Celeste’s birthday party. We can’t just bail on her celebration.” His tone was casual, almost annoyed that I’d interrupted.
My blood ran cold. “Are you serious right now?”
“Just tough it out a little longer, okay? Once the party winds down, I’ll swing by and get you.” The music swelled in the background, drowning out my desperate breathing.
“But they’re going to kill me if you don’t-”
“Elara, just one night. Don’t be dramatic, alright?”
The kidnapper was already smirking, clearly catching the drift of this conversation. My voice cracked as I whispered, “You swore you wouldn’t let me get hurt for real.”
A pause, then his voice came back flat and dismissive: “Just be patient. I’ll handle it later.” The line went dead.
“Hello? HELLO! Renric!” I frantically hit redial, but it went straight to voicemail. He’d turned off his phone.
The kidnapper let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Damn, sweetheart. You really are a Virell? Because your own people just hung you out to dry.”
“Fucking waste of my time!” another one spat.
Something inside me snapped. I wiped away the last of my tears and slowly straightened up, feeling the grief drain away and leave something much colder in its place. “Alright, drop the performance. Cut me loose.”
The men who’d been playing tough guys immediately switched gears, their postures straightening as they hurried to slice through my restraints. “Ms. Virell, please accept our apologies for the rough treatment”
I brushed the rope fragments off my wrists and turned toward the exit without looking back. Torch the place.”
11
Standing on the dock minutes later, I watched the warehouse explode in a brilliant fireball behind me, the flames reflecting off the water. I calmly wiped away the fake blood and theatrical bruising from my arms and face. Then I reached out to take the scarred hand of the man waiting on the boat, his face half-hidden in shadow but his brutal scar clearly visible in the firelight.
Elara Virell had died in that warehouse tonight.
The one who survived was just an enemy gunning for the Virell family.
