14
VIAN
Conrad is my inside man. I needed someone I could trust in her life. That, and putting a tracking chip under her skin, made it easier to accept our new reality. Following that small dot on my phone was like following my sanity. Her men are hers. She handpicked them, and they are entirely loyal to her.
I could drag out this cat-and-mouse game, but I must return home, and I am eager to take her with me.
They don’t pose a challenge. My father prepared me from childhood to take his place—mentally and physically. I honed both my body and mind into weapons: an undefeatable fighter, a master shooter, and an expert with numbers.
He often left me in the woods, blindfolded, my hands tied behind my back. In the beginning, it was so I could free myself and find my way home, but progressively, the training became harder—fighting both to escape and to kill if needed.
Torture doesn’t faze me, as I needed to become someone who could withstand pain. I am honored she chose her best men.
These are trained mercenaries, but they can’t reach my level. Modesty is overrated, and there is no humble bone in my body.I didn’t spend two decades of arduous training to be anything but an expert. I know what I can do. I am driven, my ambition helping me keep and grow an empire, but my skills made me into someone no one wants to mess with.
They surround me, thinking they’ve won. With an unassuming target, their tactic of cornering me would have worked, but not with me. They exchange looks, unsure how far they can take it since I am still their boss’s husband—unaware that this is our foreplay. She has been used to taking care of herself and doesn’t know about my involvement.
“Regulate your breathing, damn it,” I snap. “I heard you.”
“I still landed on top of you,” he grumbles as we stand up from the concrete floor.
“Now do your damn work.” I straighten my collar, sending them a hard look. “I’m the enemy. Treat me as such.”
“With pleasure,” says the one to my side, throwing a right hook at my cheek with enough force for my teeth to clatter. Good, at least they’re not completely useless.
Cracking my neck to dissipate the throbbing, I spit blood at his feet.
They look at each other, revealing proud smirks, thinking I can’t escape. Fools.
I outstretch my arms, and they cuff a zip tie around my wrists hard enough to force me to swallow a hiss. I could get out of these in under three seconds. When you must survive being thrown into a pool, every second matters.
I miss my steady father, and the gentleness of my mother. Those two were a brilliant team. Their relationship was something I always desired to emulate: that unbreakable, solid partnership.
The only thing that will bring my downfall is Zara leaving first. It might be selfish, but I want to die before her. Either way,I will follow quickly. Losing the woman who is an integral part of my life’s fabric is something I won’t overcome.
Subdued by grief, no wonder my father didn’t see the betrayal. He died in my arms with no remorse, only sheer gratitude, hoping to reunite with his loved one.
Pushing me down the stairs, they thrust me into a basement room. They hook me up, my feet dangling over the cement floor, then exit, surely to plan their next move.
I swing myself until I bring my weight up and tumble onto my feet, escaping the hook.
In a rapid move, I pull down my arms and separate my hands, and the ties break. If that hadn’t worked, I would have used my teeth. My back teeth are sharper than the rest; they were doctored that way. Behind my tailored suits lies a shark, a deadly machine. I acquire companies, tear them apart, and sell the pieces, just like I do with my enemies until nothing but ashes remain.
I’ve learned to tread the dual worlds, thriving on challenging myself.
By the time the door opens, I lean against the wall in plain sight, arms and ankles crossed.
The men stumble inside, staring at each other perplexed. The sight puts a grin on my face.
I gesture for the one who hit me and push myself off the wall.
Like an enraged bull, he stalks my way, and I block his punch, jabbing my elbow into his face, hitting his nose with such force the bones crack—the pleasant sound ringing like a rhapsody of dominance. Blood oozes from his nostrils, coating his mouth in red.
“That is how you hit,” I snarl.
The other two join his buddy, ready to save his reputation.
I easily outmaneuver them, and they lie at my feet in a pile of broken limbs. Then I hook them up, enjoying teaching them alesson a tad too much while thinking about what happens next: whether my wife sends more men or is done, eager to reunite with me like I am with her.
