Ryat moves toward the Lords’ table as Tyson grabs the back of Luke’s neck and slams his face down into the side of the table. It knocks him to his knees.
SIXTY-FOUR
TYSON
Ryat helps me get Luke into a chair, and we zip-tie him to it. I look up to see Kashton plop down in the pew next to my wife while Haidyn sits down in the pew behind her. Saint walks over to the other witness I had Ryat bring from Carnage.
He knocks the mask off Jackson, yanks him from the pew and drags him over to the Lords’ table. Hitting the back of his legs, Jackson falls to his knees, and he screams behind the ball gag in his mouth.
I slap Luke across the face, trying to get him to focus. The poor guy is dazed. “Wake the fuck up. You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
“Fuck … you.” He spits out blood.
“Let’s start with the obvious. How I found your wife.” I grab Whitney’s hair, yanking her head back, and she looks up at me through her bloodshot eyes. “I found my wife sedated, tied to a hospital bed in a psych ward, and jaw wired shut. And you can believe my surprise when Whitney here entered the room. The only thing she was surprised about was that I was there. You said she had one job? I highly doubt that was all she did.”
Looking up, I see Haidyn sitting behind my wife, and I nod to him. He reaches around her and removes the Lord’s mask. Her watery eyes are on her sister. They meet mine, and she shakes her head, fresh tears rolling down her face. She doesn’t want to believe it.
“Yes, little darling.” I shove Whitney’s head down into the table. “Whitney knew where you were and wasn’t going to tell a soul where to find you. But then again, a dead girl is meant to be forgotten. If you don’t know she exists, then she can’t tell secrets.”
Lake drops her head, her body shaking as she sobs behind the tape.
“Then we have Jackson here. He told me all kinds of information.” I leave it vague because I want Luke to sweat it.
“I’m not telling you shit.” Luke shakes his head.
I figured he’d be this way. That’s why I have Whitney here. Otherwise, I would have never let my wife see her sister was still alive. I kept her hidden, tied up in a cell next to Jackson’s at Carnage for this very reason for the past week. I didn’t want to break Lake this way, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my wife. I had to weigh my options. And my wife’s safety will always win.
Removing the gag from Whitney’s mouth, she openly sobs, her body struggling in the rope. After I fucked my wife’s mouth in the cathedral at Carnage, I brought her here while I had Ryat bring Jackson and Whitney. I then sent the video and pictures to Luke from Whitney’s phone that I took of my wife. I had Ryat tie up Whitney the same way, making him think it was my wife when he arrived. All I needed was a second of surprise.
“Don’t you fucking say anything,” Luke yells at her. “Keep your mouth shut.”
She can’t right now over her sobbing, but I have something that will help her get under control. Removing my cell, I unlock it and turn on my wife’s collar that I had placed on Whitney.
She goes silent as her body shakes from the shocks. Turning it off, she sags the best she can in the tight ropes. I do it again and she tenses.
“I can do this all night,” I tell Luke, ignoring my wife yelling into her tape. “But I don’t need to.” Stopping it, I lower myself at the end of the Lords’ table to meet her eyes. “Were you going to sell my wife?” I ask.
She closes her eyes tightly, and I grip her face, squeezing it as hard as I can, knowing it’ll leave prints afterward. “YES!” she cries, and I let go of her.
“Fucking bitch…”
I punch Luke, cutting him off. My wife’s face is white, drained of all color, and her big, beautiful tear-filled eyes are on mine.
“Please let me go,” Whitney begs. “Please—”
I pull out my knife and hold it to her neck. “Let you go?” Laughing, I shake my head. “You were going to sell my pregnant wife, and you think I’m going to just let you walk away?”
She gasps.
“Thanks for that, by the way.” I smile at Luke. “She’s giving me twins.” I turn back to Whitney. “You took her away from me. And you must pay for that. Nobody takes what’s mine and walks away.”
“Please!” She shouts, “Lake—” Whitney tries to look over at her out of the corner of her eyes, but she can’t see my wife with how she’s positioned. “Please, don’t let him do this to me.”
“My wife can’t help you,” I say truthfully. Lake could beg, cry, and plead with me, but this is one thing I’d never give her. It’s also another reason I made sure she couldn’t speak. “You will die here like the fucking bitch you are.”
Pressing the knife into her neck, she rushes out, “Ashtyn.”
The Cathedral falls eerily silent, and I look over at Saint, who is already heading straight for us. I step back, and he takes the knife from me, flipping her onto her back. She screams as the hogtied position smashes half her folded body underneath her on the Lords’ table. He wraps his hand around her throat and pins her down. The knife now pressed into the side of her face.
