Chapter 68
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
HANNAH
Tentatively, I tug the door open and find the guard standing across from me with his arms crossed.
His eyes trail over my face, and he sighs. “Boss isn’t going to be happy.”
“Then boss shouldn’t have kidnapped me and killed the men I love,” I snap back.
Is it a good idea to sass a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me? Probably not. But fuck him. And fuck everyone else that works for Jeffrey.
But instead of getting mad that I snapped at him, a smirk tugs up the corners of his lips. “Your funeral.” He shrugs and guides me forward.
I swallow down the wave of nausea that hits me when he says that word. Because somehow I’m going to have to plan a celebration of life for the men I love. I refuse to let them die and then not acknowledge their lives.
Swiping a few stray tears away, I allow the guard to steer me down a series of hallways toward a boardroom.
I huff out a humorless laugh. It makes sense that this is where he would trade my life for the future of the company. His family has always been a business commodity to him.
His words from the car ring through my mind, and grief hits me for what feels like the hundredth time since we left the airfield.
My father didn’t abandon me. He died. He was murdered, and they were more than happy for me to spend the rest of my life thinking he left of his own free will.
It never even occurred to me to question the story they gave me, and that has guilt settling in my chest.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Granddad until we’re standing beside him, and the guard was right.
He’s not happy.
“That’s the best you could do?” he growls.
“Did you think I had hair tools, a change of outfit, and my makeup bag in here?” I ask, lifting the bag slightly.
“Do not speak to me like that, young lady,” he snaps as the tips of his ears turn a dark shade of red.
He prides himself on never showing emotion, and that extends to anger. But contrary to what he may believe, he can’t control his body’s reactions.
He steps forward until he’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath, sending a shiver of disgust through me.
This man may be my own flesh and blood, but he’s also responsible for every shitty thing that’s ever happened to me.
“You will not embarrass me in there. You will keep your eyes down. You will not sass me or anyone else in that room. And when it’s time to leave, you will go with your new husband without argument. ”
My eyes widen at his words.
Did he just say husband?
Am I about to get married wearing the sweatshirt of one of the men I love, who was brutally murdered an hour ago?
And here I thought today couldn’t get any more fucked up.
Maybe I should stop jinxing myself with those kinds of thoughts.
When he doesn’t step back, and his glare deepens, I realize he’s waiting for me to respond, and all I manage is a small nod.
It’s not until he steps out of my space that I take a deep breath and push my shoulders back.
I have no idea what’s waiting for me in that room, and even less idea how many people are inside, but the taser hiding beneath my sleeve brings a certain sense of calm to my body.
Jeffrey nods at the guard, and he steps forward to open the door for us.
We both step inside, but my brows dip when I notice the chair at the other end of the table is turned toward the wall rather than at us.
God, I hope whatever asshole I’m being married off to doesn’t think he’s some kind of supervillain.
The door closes behind us, and I take a tentative step forward, putting the table between Granddad and me.
The chair spins slowly, and it takes long seconds for my mind to catch up with the scene in front of me.
Because the last thing I expect to see is Camilla with one hand on her baby bump and the other aiming a gun straight at my grandfather.
“Hey, girl,” Camilla says calmly, taking her eyes off Granddad for long enough to shoot me a wink. “Looks like I’m your new husband.”
A choked laugh tumbles free, because today really does keep throwing curveballs, and I’m starting to think this might be some kind of fever dream.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jeffrey growls as he reaches into his pocket for his phone.
Camilla smirks, her long brown hair wavy around her shoulders. “That won’t work in here.” She uses the gun to point to a small black box in the middle of the table. “Can’t have you calling for help while we’re having a little chat.”
I step further around the table, wanting to put as much distance between me and the door as I can, just in case whoever Jeffrey was planning to marry me off to is still on his way.
“And to answer your earlier question, I’m Camilla De Marco. My husband, Kovu, is just outside taking care of your men, but he’ll be in shortly.”
Blood drains from his face at the combination of names, and I can’t help but be amused by what’s playing out in front of me.
“Where Ronald? And the rest of my men?”
Camilla shrugs. “Dead, I assume.”
His eyes flick to me and then back to the woman with the gun.
There’s a poetic justice in this that I wish I could enjoy. The way he’s always underestimated women, always thinking we were nothing more than pawns for him to play with, is being challenged in the most spectacular fashion.
The door swings open, and a man I can only assume is Kovu steps inside. His arms are splattered with blood, and he wipes his knife against his cargo pants as he steps toward Camilla with feral love in his gaze.
“Are you having fun, Little Lamb?” He comes to a stop beside her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, but he’s careful not to get any blood on her.
“You know I am. Did you scratch that itch?”
“Fuck yeah. You should have seen how this one guy bled when I cut off his—” He shoots a look at me and then back to Camilla. “I’ll tell you when we get home.”
As curious as I am to hear the rest of that story, it’s probably a good thing he stopped. My stomach hasn’t stopped churning since I woke up this morning, and graphic details about dismemberment probably won’t help matters.
“I can give you money,” Jeffrey blurts out.
Camilla’s laugh fills the room, followed closely by Kovu’s. “I have plenty of my own blood money, thank you very much. What I would like, however, is for you to apologize to my girl here.”
Granddad’s eyes flick to mine, fear morphing into annoyance right before my eyes. “I’m sorry, Hannah.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from scoffing at the pathetic apology.
“What are you sorry for?” I ask. “Killing the men I love? Killing my father and letting me think he abandoned me? Constantly belittling me at every opportunity? Trying to marry me off to some asshole who would have treated me poorly? Please enlighten me about what exactly you’re sorry for. ”
“You little bi—” He doesn’t get to finish the words before Kovu has closed the distance between them. He slams his fist into Granddad’s stomach, sending him pitching forward.
“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your granddaughter.” He grasps the back of his shirt, tugging him up until he’s facing me again. “How about you try that again?”
I’m almost certain no one has ever spoken to him like this, that no one has ever dared to disrespect him this way, and the hatred burning in his eyes would normally make me flinch.
But he’s not a threat to me right now. Not with one of the most ruthless killers in the city standing beside him and a gun pointed directly at his chest.
“I’m sorry for it all,” he spits. “I was only doing what I needed to do for the company.”
I glance at Camilla, who looks just as unsatisfied by the apology as I am.
Kovu looks up at me expectantly, and for the first time since he walked into the room, I get a good view of his face and understand why the entire city cowers when you utter his name.
The door swings open again, and I slip the taser into my hand just in case whoever is on the other side gets past both Kovu and Camilla’s gun.
Something about seeing how badass she is has given me renewed confidence in myself, and I’m willing to go down swinging if I have to.
But when Crew strides through the door, I allow my shoulders to relax.
At least until two men step into the room behind him and my entire world tilts on its axis.
“Hey, Little Doe.” Asher grins.
One moment I’m staring at a ghost, and the next the world goes dark.