“What are you doing?” Star shrieks.
“Making my choice,” I say loud enough so she can hear me once the person at the other side of the line answers. “Brody, I’m going to kill the underboss’s daughter.” Without waiting for him to respond, I drop my phone and, in one fluid motion, remove one of my knives from its sheath. Wide-eyed with terror, Star fumbles for the lighter. I flip the knife so I’m holding the blade, then bring it over my shoulder and throw, putting all my weight into the movement. Just as she manages to coax a flame using the flint wheel, seven inches of stainless steel sink into the center of her chest.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE SHACKLES start at my wrists and extend all the way up my elbows, forcing my fused arms to jut out at an ugly angle behind me. Thank the racing gods for granting me some measure of flexibility. The pain is such that when they first placed the restraints on me, I thought my shoulders would dislocate from their sockets. Added to my discomfort are the rough hands of the two guards assigned to escort me to the room where I first met the boss before I willingly plunged myself in this mess. I can walk, but they refused to let me use my legs. Instead they lifted me on each side by my armpits. I can actually feel the ball of my upper arm grind against the socket of my shoulder. Maybe dislocation isn’t such a bad idea right about now. At least then, after the initial burst of agony, I’ll go numb. Or pass out. Either works better than this torture. I may not be heavy, but being supported by my arms allows gravity to use my body weight against me.
To distract my brain from focusing too much on the imaginary razor blades biting into my insides from the generous jostling of my guards, I count the number of steps left until we reach the receiving room. At least then I’ll be dropped on my knees and I can find some measure of relief. Unfortunately, for the choices I’ve made, there will no longer be real relief except for death.
No matter how many times Bedlam and Zamara urged me to make a run for it, I patiently waited for Brody to arrive. Running didn’t mean I would be safe. It would only make things worse. I told them so. Of course they refused to listen to my logic. Even Ace agreed that I should save myself by getting into my GT and never looking back. And then what? I challenged. He, having lived in luxury after being adopted by the counselor, didn’t have an answer for me. When Mac and Screw finished lecturing me on what I’d done, I spoke to them about the garage and how to access my funds so they can keep it going. They remained stone-faced for me the entire time. I silently thanked them for showing strength. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if they lost it on me. When Brody arrived via helicopter, the news of Star’s death had already made it to the press. Pictures of her body with my knife sticking out of her chest were all over the news feeds.
The disappointment in my mentor’s eyes crushed the last of my will. Without saying so much as a hello to me, he had his guards surround me and bring me back to HQ, where the shackling and manhandling commenced. The boss will want to take care of this quickly to maintain the peace. Not even an hour after I arrived at the Bitterblade Building, he had me summoned.
At the long corridor from the bank of elevators, I stare straight at the dead end we’re fast approaching. As if following a silent cue, the men dragging me along stop. I wince as lactic acid climbs up my arms. I’m losing circulation in my limbs fast. The man to my right punches in the code, and the door that blended into the wall slides to the side.
The receiving room is just as I remembered it. White marble. Empty space. Cameras at every corner. Massive chandelier. And the ornate screen. The only difference is the number of people in the space. Like before, Brody stands to one side of the screen. His expression remains blank when I’m dropped to my knees and my guards stand at ease with their hands clasped behind their backs and feet apart. I swallow the groan fighting to escape. My face warms from the effort.
Across from Brody stands Star’s father. The underboss. The boss’s right hand. Besides Ace’s adoptive father, the underboss is the next most powerful man in Terra One. And I just killed his only child. The sternness of his expression cannot hide the anger and grief in the dark pools of his eyes. If the devil had a face, his would be it. I can feel his hatred radiating toward me despite the immaculate suit he’s wearing. The tension surrounding him and his contingent of bodyguards—all also dressed in expensive suits—tells me he’s barely keeping it together. He covers a shaking fist with an equally shaking hand in front of him as he adjusts his stance.
There will be no mercy in this room today.
The moment I made my decision, I signed my fate over to the boss.
From his seat behind the screen, he sighs heavily. It’s like it pains him to have to exercise his authority on this day. My heart is hammering its way out of my chest. Maybe the stress will cause it to fail and I’ll be saved from what is coming. Sadly, the racing gods do not grant me this wish. My heart remains strong. I inhale through my nose and exhale out my mouth in an attempt to settle myself, but it’s no use. I’m a mess despite the absence of tears.
A crunch of leather from the
