Allowing myself another moment of self-pity, I think about their faces, their smiles, the way their entire beings lit up when I walked into a room, and I use that strength to pull the taser from my bag, flick it on, and slip it up into my oversized sleeve.
I knew wearing Asher’s sweatshirt was a good choice.
Once I have it in place, I check the pepper spray and feed it into the front pocket. It’s not going to disable someone for long,but it is easier to take down more than one person with it, so I want to keep it handy.
A loud bang pulls a scream from my throat.
“Hurry up,” the guard shouts.
With one final deep breath, I turn around and head to the door.
I’m not going down without a fight.
I haven’t come this far and lost this much to give up now.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
HANNAH
Tentatively, I tug the door open and find the guard standing across from me with his arms crossed.
His eyes trail over my face, and he sighs. “Boss isn’t going to be happy.”
“Thenbossshouldn’t have kidnapped me and killed the men I love,” I snap back.
Is it a good idea to sass a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me? Probably not. But fuck him. And fuck everyone else that works for Jeffrey.
But instead of getting mad that I snapped at him, a smirk tugs up the corners of his lips. “Your funeral.” He shrugs and guides me forward.
I swallow down the wave of nausea that hits me when he says that word. Because somehow I’m going to have to plan a celebration of life for the men I love. I refuse to let them die and then not acknowledge their lives.
Swiping a few stray tears away, I allow the guard to steer me down a series of hallways toward a boardroom.
I huff out a humorless laugh. It makes sense that this is where he would trade my life for the future of the company. His family has always been a business commodity to him.
His words from the car ring through my mind, and grief hits me for what feels like the hundredth time since we left the airfield.
My father didn’t abandon me. He died. He wasmurdered, and they were more than happy for me to spend the rest of my life thinking he left of his own free will.
It never even occurred to me to question the story they gave me, and that has guilt settling in my chest.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Granddad until we’re standing beside him, and the guard was right.
He’s not happy.
“That’s the best you could do?” he growls.
“Did you think I had hair tools, a change of outfit, and my makeup bag in here?” I ask, lifting the bag slightly.
“Do not speak to me like that, young lady,” he snaps as the tips of his ears turn a dark shade of red.
He prides himself on never showing emotion, and that extends to anger. But contrary to what he may believe, he can’t control his body’s reactions.
He steps forward until he’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath, sending a shiver of disgust through me. This man may be my own flesh and blood, but he’s also responsible for every shitty thing that’s ever happened to me. “You will not embarrass me in there. You will keep your eyes down. You will not sass me or anyone else in that room. And when it’s time to leave, you will go with your new husband without argument.”
My eyes widen at his words.
Did he just say husband?
