Page 175 of Burn Like An Angel

He nudges my leg with the tip of his boot.

“Turns out, there’s far more profit in protecting the underdog. It’s easy to sit atop an empire and dictate the world. But the real power lies in those who fund the man on top.”

Dread sinks into me faster than a knife into butter. I knew we were in trouble the moment Warner turned up at our door. Blood is irrelevant when decades of wealth are burning all around you.

My uncle has millions tied up in this investment. There’s no way he’d let all that money simply go up in smoke. To him, this madness is just another business decision.

“The boss wants you quiet and secure like a good patient for the plane ride.” Elon sighs exaggeratedly. “If I didn’t need this job, I’d happily slit your throat and call it done.”

Pounding roars between my ears.

“P-Plane ride?”

Elon grins down at me. “We’re all going on a trip.”

“I d-don’t understand.”

“Killing you would create a martyr. Another evidence trail. You’re going to take your medication and be a docile little freak.”

With a sudden adrenaline rush, I buck and fight, attempting to reach him. If I can just slip these shackles, I’ll fight my way out of here. Kick. Punch. Stab. Anything to escape.

Watching me struggle, Elon simply laughs. “You’ll spend the rest of your life in a drugged-up haze until your brain cracks open like an egg. He needs you complacent, Ripley. Silent.”

“No!”

“Now, now. No need to make such a fuss. I’ll get your meds, hmm? That’ll make you feel better.”

Strolling from the cell, Elon hums a tune under his breath. The shackles tear into my wrists, reopening old scar tissue in my desperate attempt to pull free. Even if I have to dislocate my limbs to do it.

Blood trails down my forearms, joining glass shards buried deep in my skin, dirt and ashy streaks. The words carved into my skin are obscured, the eternal brand covered by my fresh blood.

“Lennox! Xander! Raine!” I wail helplessly.

Elon returns, a zipped pouch in his hand. “Oh, they’re dead. Nasty wreck that was. I did tell my men to be gentler.”

“You’re a fucking liar!”

He rolls his eyes. “Again with the yelling. Let’s get those lips sealed tight.”

Elon unzips the pouch, pulling out a glass vial and hypodermic needle. I can’t read the label through my swimming vision.

He moves onto one knee beside me, pinching the skin above the veins at my inner elbow. That goddamn humming. It’s like nails scratching my brain apart as Elon draws clear liquid into the syringe.

“Stop,” I beg uselessly. “Don’t do this.”

“Ah, now she changes her tune. It’s too little, too late.”

“No! I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Just… Please, don’t do this.”

“We have a long way to travel to meet your uncle, Ripley. This was just a pit stop. And I don’t want to listen to you for the entire ride.”

I scream out at the pressure of the needle slipping in, plunging deeply into my vein. Blood wells up, spilling around the entry wound. Elon doesn’t bother to be gentle.

“You know, Craven once told me this is the good stuff,” he says conversationally. “Trialled and tested by his colleague, Professor Lazlo. An old friend, I heard.”

Elon depresses the plunger.

“Let’s give it a go, shall we?”

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