Page 156 of Seeking Vengeance

I smirk, pretending I’m calling his bluff when I know he speaks the truth. I’m going to have to find a way to kill him without getting pinned for the blame.

I’ll pay someone. Bribe. Threaten.

I’ll do whatever it takes.

“Those are adamant fighting words coming from someone in a hospital bed.” I turn on my heel and stride for the threshold, telling De Marco to, “Block the door,” as I pass and continue into the adjoining bedroom where Bishop faces off with Abri who stands before a closed door.

“We’re getting out of here.” I stalk toward them. “Where’s Layla?”

“Still in the bathroom.” Bishop flings a hand in Abri’s direction. “She’s been in there for over ten minutes with no flushed toilet or running faucet. And no goddamn response when I call her fucking name.”

I shoulder my sister out of the way and slam my fist against the door. “Layla. Open up. We’re leaving.”

There’s no reply.

No sound. No shift of movement from inside.

I glare at my sister. “What have you done?”

She raises her chin, defiant.

Fuck. What the hell has she done?

I step back, panic consuming me, rage inspiring me. “Layla, move away from the door.” I plant my heel next to the handle, sending the door flying and wood splintering from around the jamb.

I don’t have to step inside to know she’s not there.

The window is open, the white lace curtain dancing in the breeze.

I race forward, my hands sweating as I grip the ledge and shove my head outside.

A screen frame lays dormant on the grass below in an otherwise still garden.

There’s no sign of her.

“Where is she?” I swing around and charge for Abri. Her eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?’

She braces her feet apart and squares her shoulders. “Nothing.”

The crunch of pebbles carries from outside. Loud and urgent. Bishop shoots me a glance, then makes for the French doors.

I’m right behind him.

“What’s going on?” Salvatore yells from the other room.

Bishop and I step onto the balcony to see a Bentley fishtail around the drive, the brake lights glaring as the gates begin to open.

“It’s her.” Bishop shoves his hands through his hair. “Jesus goddamn Christ.”

I fight the compulsion to jump the balcony and chase after her the fastest way possible, knowing I’ll break my fucking legs in the process.

“What are we doing, Langston?” Bishop turns to me. “What the fuck do we do?”

How could she leave?

Does she hate me that much? Enough to risk running without protection?

“Wake the fuck up, bitch.” Bishop thumps my chest, the blow hard enough to jar bone. “What’s the plan?”

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