“This is between you and me, Lazarus,” my brother says after a long beat of silence. “Don’t punish my sister for?—”
“Oh, I will do whatever the fuck I please to your precious little sister,” Lazarus returns, sounding lethal as he continues to hold my gaze.
I shiver.
Because that sounded like a threat, but also a promise.
And for some fucked-up reason, it excites me.
Except I don’t think he intends to be kind about it.
In fact, he lookslivid.
Because Gio hired Bastian to kill Johan?I question, dizzy with that information.Why would he do that?
Gio knows better than to start a war between the families.
Is it because of me?I wonder.Oh God, does Lazarus think I had something to do with it?
My heart kick-starts in my chest as I realize that, yes, he absolutely does think I have something to do with this.
That’swhy he’s threatening to do whatever he wants to me. Why he’s informing my brother of what’s currently happening to me. He wants my brother to pay for nearly hurting Johan.
And he’s going to make an example out of me as a result.
Every part of me freezes, my interest in his threat turning to ice.
Johan is no longer coming inside me, but his knot is still lodged deep within me, forbidding me from moving. Noah still has a hold of my hair.
Yet we’re all frozen as Lazarus says, “Friday night, we’ll have dinner at the Ferraro estate. If your sister survives what I’m about to do to her, I’ll let you see her.”
“Ferraro,” my brother growls. “You can’t?—”
“I assure you, Ican,” Lazarus returns. “And more importantly, Iwill. Friday at eight, Bianchi. Don’t be late.” Hehangs up, then slides the phone into his pocket while holding my gaze.
I feel raw.
Exposed.
Trapped.
“I didn’t know,” I breathe, hoping he believes me. Praying he doesn’t hate me.
This is my pack.
My scent matches.
“I wouldn’t do that…” I trail off, swallowing, my voice hoarse. I break his cruel stare and try my best to look at Johan over my shoulder. “I wouldnever…”
The alpha slowly turns to look at me, his crystal-blue eyes searching mine. Then he leans in to brush his lips against mine. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame you,” he whispers. “We kidnapped you. Forced you to stay here with us. And we all know fighting back is in your nature, little hacker.”
“But I didn’t?—”
Movement from the left has me abruptly quieting, my spine stiffening as Lazarus draws closer.
My throat tries to work, yet everything feels wrong. I can’t swallow. I can barely even breathe.
And those sensations only worsen as Lazarus takes hold of my chin and forces me to look up at him.
