Page 103 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

I scoff. “So that makes me indebted to you, now. You want me to be your slave?”

Lakeland places his wine glass on the table and claps his hands in slow, loud applause.

“Ding, ding, ding! The kid does in fact have a brain cell working. There’s hope yet.”

It takes me a second to register that I’m standing and the table is flipped, all the food splayed across the floor.

The windowpanes shudder with the sudden squall outside—a wintry storm.

“Well, that was a waste,” Lakeland grinds out, still sitting in his chair.

“Listen, motherfucker,” I grind out, stepping toward him, but stop cold.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonishes, but I focus on the cold press of metal to the base of my skull. From the shadows, five burly guards step forward with their handguns drawn.

“Calm down, Storm.” Lakeland’s voice goes hard. “I’d hate for you to learn these lessons the hard way.”

I try to burn him to ash with my gaze, but he sits there with that satisfied look on his face.

He thinks he’s won.

And maybe right now…he did.

“This isn’t over, Lakeland. If it takes all the breath in my body, I will take you down. Believe that.”

He gets a look in his eye, a look that seems almost…excited.

“I’d like to see you try, Storm. And may the best man win.” Lakeland rises from his chair and gives a nod to the guard behind me. A second later, the pressure leaves my neck, and I sidestep the aim. His security detail files out behind him, and I’m left alone in the messy dining room.

What the fuck.

What the fuck am I going to do?

Deep in the hall, the grandfather clock my father purchased twenty years ago chimes for the top of the hour.

Pressure. The pressure within my chest grows until I’m suffocating. Literally suffocating.

What will you choose, Storm?

What’s there to do?

I pace back and forth, my hand gripping at my short hair, as the song drones on for the seven o’clock hour.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Fuck!” I shout, and it drowns out the melody until there’s nothing but silence from me and the timepiece.

One minute goes by.

Another minute.

One more.

I don’t know what the truth is or what I can do to free myself from this shit…but I’m determined to figure it the fuck out.

Tick. Tock.

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