“You…” she began, stuttering. “You’re the man from the—”
“I am,” came my response, swift and stern.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She struggled to steady her breathing, trying to get a grip on herself. But I could see right through her.
“Have I been kidnapped?” she asked, her voice breaking under the weight of her fear.
I rose to my feet, tucked a hand in my pocket, and approached her with slow, measured steps. She withdrew from me, her jaw clenched as she managed to hold my gaze.
“You were bundled into a van. What do you think?” I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
Her back hit the wall, her chest heaving with quiet, ragged breaths. “What do you want with me?”
I halted in front of her, my gaze unwavering. “You? Nothing,” I answered. “It’s your father I’m after.”
Her brows arched. “Then go after him. I have nothing to do with whatever you have against him.”
“Oh, but you do,” I said. “You’re the center of his world, meaning the best way to hurt him is by hurting you.”
She shook her head, her eyes becoming glassier by the second. “No, you’re gravely mistaken.” Her voice cracked.
“Am I?”
“Yes!” she blurted out, almost as if to vindicate herself. “I’m not the center of his world. You’ve got the wrong girl.”
I hesitated for a moment, amused by how quickly she tried to detach herself from this man. “You have his eyes,” I said, staring into their depths. “Are you not Mercer’s daughter?”
Again, she swallowed hard, biting down on the inside of her mouth. She didn’t have to answer; her eyes gave her away.
My lips curled into a mischievous grin. “You will pay for his sins.”
“I don’t know what messed-up shit he’s got himself into, but I want no part of it,” she insisted, trying to mask her fear with anger.
The defiance in her hazel eyes sparkled like a thousand sapphires. Intriguing. She stood her ground in front of me as if her heart weren’t pounding in her chest.
“If you have a bone to pick with Mercer, I can show you where he lives,” she said, looking right into my eyes. “You don’t have to involve me in whatever you two have going on.”
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, my gaze pinned on her face. The gentle rise and fall of her chest was a clear indication of her attempt to mask her fear. The air was thick with tension as she wondered what I was up to.
I unsheathed a knife from my lower back, the blade glinting in the soft light as I flashed it in her face. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes widened in horror. I reached out, fingers brushing the stray strands of hair that framed her face as I reveled in the scent of her terror.
Her jaw tightened, and her head pulled back from the knife in her face. She didn’t say a word, but the look in her eyes showed how petrified she was.
“Whether you like it or not, blondie,” I whispered in her face, “you already are involved.”
She didn’t beg, didn’t flinch—not even after I sliced the blade clean through a lock of her hair. She just stood there, glaring at me. If she were the one with the knife, she’d have already stabbed me in the fuckin’ neck.
Her refusal to show any sign of weakness was as amusing as it was annoying.
I held up the lock in my hand for her to see, and still, she refused to react. Quietly, I leaned in enough for her to feel my breath against her skin when I muttered, “This will be my first gift to him.”
Her hand flew to the uneven strands at her neck, but this petite blonde didn’t break. The violation left her shaken and pissed—it was clear in her blazing eyes.
A smirk played at the corners of my mouth as I stepped away from her, my gaze unwavering. I studied her with cold precision, thinking she might be a tough nut to crack.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, gesturing at the cozy interior. “And consider yourself lucky that I decided to keep you in here, rather than lock you up in my basement.”
Still no response. Just that icy stare of a dangerous fighter—one I shouldn’t underestimate at all.
