I was going to escape.
I wouldn’t die here.
This wouldn’t be my final resting place.
It may very well be Tom’s, though.
Withthatechoing in my mind like a final statement, I calmed just a bit. It wouldn’t be easy getting out of here, but I was determined.
Seeing Morgan dead next to me only fortified that I wouldn’t be Tom’s next victim.
Inhaling through my nose, I glanced down at my body. My clothes were still on, but my black opaque tights, underneath myskirt, had various rips and holes from when he’d hauled me and I tried to fight. The skin around my knee was scraped and when I shifted, I felt cuts pulling at my skin in various spots. I didn’t sense any soreness between my legs, which meant the sordid asshole hadn’t assaulted me while I was unconscious.
The relief I experienced grew tenfold when I realized that I still wore the necklace Papà had given me.
The one with the tracker.
Thank goodness.
My loved ones would figure out something was wrong—if they hadn’t already—and I needed to keep myself alive.
Exhaling slowly through my nose, all my senses sharpened when I remembered I still had my pocket knife tucked in my upper-thigh holster. I could feel it as I shifted. Tom hadn’t realized that I had a weapon on my person. Otherwise, he’d have removed it.
I wasn’t sure where he was or when he would be coming back, but instinct told me it would be soon. Working fast, I did my best to wriggle into position and reach under my skirt with my tied hands.
A sliver of victory blazed through me when I caught the handle of the knife, a keepsake my nonno left for me before passing away, and dragged it out.
A beacon of hope, the metal of the blade glinted in the dim light.
Anticipation rattled in my chest as I began slicing at the bindings, sawing back and forth until finally…they snapped and my hands were freed.
I didn’t move a muscle, momentarily wracked with disbelief thatI did it.
Just as I was about to sit up, a clatter near the entrance had me freezing like a deer caught in headlights.
I stayed put, joining my hands to give the illusion that they were still tied.
The atmosphere morphed with something sinister as Tom entered through the mausoleum’s opening. Hood down. Mask off. And a shovel in his hand that he propped against the doorframe, the end coated with grass and mud.
His presence made the space appear even smaller, tighter, inescapable.
A frisson travelled down my back.
“Oh, good.” He approached me and lowered himself to a crouch. “You’re awake.”
His knuckles skimmed my cheek and I recoiled with a sneer. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
The only man who was allowed to skim his knuckles down my cheek was Hunter.
Tom’s gaze hardened, a menacing smirk blooming over his lips. “You forget who’s in charge, Gabby.” He leaned in, his disgusting hot breath blowing over my skin. “Me. And if I want to touch you?” He pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I. Fucking. Will.”
I squirmed, under the guise of being a damsel in distress. I didn’t have the perfect angle to strike—yet—so I feigned helplessness, gripping the closed knife between my fisted palms. When the time was right, I was going to finish Luna’s job and take his fucking eye out.
I’d never been a violent or bloodthirsty girl, but this was a turning point for me.
A dark chaos consumed my mind, its fingers spreading through my mainframe like a sickness. I would never rest until Tom was dead. I grew antsier every second that he lived.
“Why?” I asked sharply. Tom’s brows rising stated that he was surprised at the lack of defeat in my tone. “Why do all of this?”
