Page 118 of Breaking Point

Chapter Fifty-Six

Crew

One of the guards cuffs a zip tie around my wrists, and though it’s tight enough to cut, it’s not exactly a disadvantage. If I used the right force, I could easily snap out of them.

Rema’s phone drops to his side, call ended, while he watches me with a sneer. It only makes me grin when his guards loop another zip tie around my wrists.

My grin drops when they move toward Liv. “Don’t fucking touch her,” I shove the guard that moves to zip-tie her as well.

“You might get away with transporting him like this, but you really think people won’t ask questions when they see a woman with her hands tied?” Liv asks.

Rema sneers again, twisting to leave abruptly. I linger close enough to feel her skirt brush my slacks as we walk. I can tell she’s scared. The tension in her shoulders, her pin-straight back, the slight shake in her walk. It makes the anger in my chest burn hotter.

It’s only a matter of time before we’re in the middle of the party. The hotel is crawling with people now.

Rema halts for a group of drunken guests to pass, and I take the opportunity to step closer. One of the guards grabs my wrists roughly, but Liv must sense it because she takes the smallest step back. Close enough that I can feel her again.

I whisper, leaning close, “Do you trust me, Princess?”

Her hair brushes my chin as she looks at me. Her blue eyes are like ice as she nods. Rema strolls forward again, and the guards shoves me after him.

The party blares around us wildly, people swerving in and out of the dance floor. We weave through the ballroom until we reach the balcony on the other side. The guards enter first, and we follow. I’m not surprised to find Skar at the head of a long table, leaning against it lazily.

Despite Skar being visibly unarmed, Rema stiffens when he finds the full-spread of food across the table. It’s clear that we interrupted a dinner of sorts.

Two women occupy a pair of the high-back chairs, arms now bound to their seats. One, I recognize as Sofia Vercelli. I only recognize the dark tattoos decorating the arm of the other.

They’re Prevyain.

“Donatello.” Skar motions for him to sit, but Rema doesn’t move.

Not as the four guards shut the door and we each assess the chance we have of winning here. I have to admit I thought we had better odds.

Skar’s eyes settle on Sofia, indifference written across his features. “What I still don’t get is your connection in all of this.”

Sofia’s cocky reply is a smile- as if pleased Skar didn’t put the pieces together. “SofiaRemaVercelli. Pleased to formally meet you.”

She’s his daughter-and somehow we missed it.

“I assume we can come to some kind of agreement in exchange for your brother and the girl?” Rema asks.

“Agreement is a funny word,” Skar counters. I know from his swift assessment of the balcony that he’s planning something. “How long have you been planning this?”

Sofia crosses her arms, revealing little. “You don’t even know what this is, do you?” she laughs, but it’s her father who speaks next.

“Enough, Sofia,” he growls before looking back at Skar. “You know this isn’t about Harvey’s petty debt by now.”

“Naturally,” Skar tucks his hand in his pocket casually. “You have more money than you know what to do with, I’m sure.”

“This has never been about money.”

Skar shifts his weight, hand flexing at his side. “Influence then. Is that all?”

“You own Westos-“

Skar laughs, shaking his head. “If you want Westos, you’d have better luck killing me.”

“There’s only the matter of your brother,” Sofia adds sarcastically, and Skar’s eyes flicker back to her.

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