“You can’t get away with it,” Electra says.
“Get away with what?” he grins.
“Any of it!” she cries out. “The police?—”
“The police are rigged. And I’ve just gotten started.” His grin lasts all of three seconds before it’s gone, replaced by something I’ve never seen on his face before. A wild rage that feels unpredictably dangerous. “Now get up.”
I glare up at him. “I was in a car accident. You wrapped our car around a pole. I can’t just get up.”
Tristan eyes flare with anger. He grabs Electra by the hair, yanking her to her feet. “I don’t think the two of you understand.Every ball is in my court. Everything that Ransome had is mine right now. So, if you care about your siblings or your bastard son, you better start listening, bitch.”
As much as I don’t want to comply, I’m not stupid. I know how unhinged this man is.
So I stand up.
Next thing I know, bags are being pulled over our heads. Our arms are being yanked behind us as zip ties bind our wrists together. Electra’s crying.
“It’s okay.” I try to comfort her as we’re forced out the front door. “We’ll get through this.”
I hear what sounds like the hatch of an SUV. Both of us are shoved inside, where we lay on our sides facing each other. All of the rear seats are down and the floor is hard.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say again, for the two seconds we are alone before Tristan gets in the driver’s seat.
To say that Electra is freaking out is an understatement. She is wailing at this point.
“Bitch, will you shut up?” Tristan shouts.
I shimmy my body closer to her, resting my forehead against hers.
“I can’t breathe,” Electra gasps.
“It’s okay,” I hush her. “You just need to calm down. Breath slower. Deeper. You’re okay.”
If I’m being honest, I’m just as panicked as she is. But I also know that freaking out is only going to make things worse.
“Where do you think he’s taking us?” she asks.
And that’s when it hits me. We don’t need to know where we are going so much as where we are. “Electra,” I whisper. “Where are we?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I answer as quietly as I can. “Where are we? What street? Or neighborhood?”
“Liberty Heights,” she whispers.
Liberty Heights. Okay. It’s not as ritzy as where Ransome lives, but it’s up there.
“I can’t calm down,” Electra whimpers.
But as we start to move, I have a plan.
“Start singing under your breath,” I tell her.
“Singing?”
“It will distract you.”
“Singing what?”
