Page 101 of Wrongfully Magicked
As I pass Stuart, the air around him is so vile that it’s hard not to recoil. The thought of Anita being at his mercy for her whole life leaves me gutted.
Her family makes sociopaths look like a bunch of overeager puppies.
As I pass, I brace myself, expecting to have a dagger plunged into my back. When it doesn’t happen, why don’t I feel relieved?
One look in Stuart’s eyes is like seeing into his soul. He is rotten to the core, so spoiled since birth that he was never taught right from wrong, only how to take what he wants.
Money, power, and women are never enough.
His kind always demands more.
Nothing anyone can do will ever satisfy him.
He’s a true psychopath, just like my father.
There is only one way to escape their clutches—by killing them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ANITA
Idon’t have to open my eyes to know we’re heading into the study. I have every inch of this place mapped in my mind, including exactly how many steps it takes to escape any room in this prison.
The temperature in the house drops ten degrees, leeching the heat directly from my soul, but that might just be my imagination. The air is sterile, the place as silent as a mausoleum. Not even insects dare enter without permission.
When the door to the office thuds shut behind us, the ominous sound has my heart thumping like a jackalope in my chest. It’s like a prison door slamming shut in my mind, and it’s a struggle to remember our plan and not to freak the fuck out.
My senses go into hyperdrive, and I can sense my three guys in the room…and double that many guards.
Escape is futile.
The guys would be taken down in a hail of bullets if they tried.
Fire crackles in the office, the flames soothing my panic enough for me to remember this is part of the plan. As Stuart’s steps head toward the massive desk that dominates the room—yes, he’s totally overcompensating—Cassius tucks me closer, his thumb brushing against the underside of my arm reassuringly.
To my shock, it works.
My panic abates at his nearness, my heart slowing to match his steady, reassuring beat, and the tightness in my chest gradually eases. I’m flabbergasted when I realize what emotion I’m feeling.
Trust.
It’s such a foreign concept that I don’t recognize it at first, but I trust the guys.
It’s tentative, something I haven’t felt in close to a decade, and I’m not sure how to process the emotion. Knowing now is not the time, I shrug it off and a fierce determination to protect the guys takes over. No matter what happens, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they don’t get caught up in my mess.
“Account?” I crack my eyes open to see Stuart sitting behind his desk in front of his computer.
Porter doesn’t miss a beat and rattles off an account number. The fact that he doesn’t even hesitate gives me pause for a second, wondering if they are double-crossing me, then I immediately dismiss it.
The guards stand around the edges of the room, never once taking their eyes off us. Garvey, the sadistic fucktwat who took great pleasure in torturing me the most, practically vibrates with eagerness at the thought of getting his hands on me once more, and it’s all I can do not to shudder at the thought.
I clamp down on my emotions before they can escape.
If his eyes are on me, then it’s not on the guys. Soren turns his attention to the bookshelves lining the room, his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s perusing the spines of thebooks in search of his next great read. The tomes are ancient texts worth a small fortune, and they took my family decades to collect.
While one or two of the guards watch him warily, they don’t object as he slowly works his way closer and closer to the desk. He’s searching for the demon contract. Something about the tense set of his shoulders tells me that he has a lead. I’m desperate to throw out my senses to see if I can find what caught his attention, but I don’t dare for fear of giving away our ruse.
“Garvey, don’t be rude.” Stuart smirks at his loyal servant. “Why don’t you prepare a seat for my long-lost cousin and make her feel welcome?”
