Two seconds.
It was two seconds.
There’s no movement in the dark. No noise but nature and the piercing silence before Wallace calls out for her again.
And something pricks at me that something’s not right.
She’s not fucking here.
She’s gone.
SIXTY-SEVEN
bay
It’s inevitable.
Kicking the back of the asshole’s chair who’s driving isn’t going to do shit-all but piss him off.
Screaming and threatening aren’t going to do it either.
I’m surrounded by two dudes on either side of me, pending my fate in their hands, and my heart hasn’t stopped slamming against my chest since.
And to my irritation, they’re good at what they do.
I didn’t hear them stalking us through the woods. Not one snapped twig. No rustling of bushes or trees alluded someone was behind us.
All I got was a hand over my mouth—he got an elbow in his ribs—but, again, didn’t do a fucking thing.
“Where are we going?” I prompt, not exactly excited for an answer but needing one anyway.
Nothing.
“Hey!” I slap the back of the headrest behind the driver. “I’mtalkingto you, asshole.”
“Fuck off,” I hear him mutter, clearly uninterested in my question.
Or my fate.
“Sit back, and shut the hell up,” the guy in the passenger seat drones, stocky build, dark hair, loaded with tattoos that meet his ear—never seen him before.
“I will when you tell me—” He’s quick to move, his massive body leaning over the console as he glowers at me.
“Do you understand the English language? I said shut…the…fuck…up.”
Dick.
Head.
I glare right back at him, crossing my arms along my chest because the scowl on his face…it’s not the warmest and fuzziest one on the planet.
“I have a right to know,” I mutter. “Tell me…and I’ll shut up.”
“You’re going to see Ramsey.” Then he readjusts himself in his chair and stares out the windshield like he didn’t just tell me one of the two worst scenarios available.
I had an inkling it would be him or Matteo.
I didn’t want to throw all my chips on it yet.
