Chapter 40
The butt of the gun whipped across my face for the fourth time, my mind swirling at the edge of consciousness.
My head lolled on my neck, my body too tired to lift it.
“Look at me, you conniving little bitch.”
She tossed the gun over her shoulder onto the concrete floor, and it skidded away. As I watched it go, she hauled back and slapped me with her bare hand.
Both of my eyes were swollen, but because Mona favored her right hand, she was hitting me harder on that side, so my right eye was still functioning. My left eye was fully swollen shut.
Not that it mattered. There was nothing to see, and I was going to die here.
“You remind me of the young whore Byron started fucking during our marriage. Zero talents beyond sucking a man’s dick. You’re done corrupting my sons.”
She slapped me again, my head snapping to the right and hovering there for a moment before it fell back, my face to the ceiling.
I was so tired.
I’d been trying to convince myself to hold on, but what was the point?
She was going to kill me. She was going to beat me until I passed out or dropped dead.
And if I refused to die, she was going to find another way.
This cold, dark warehouse was where it ended for me.
“Hold her head up,” Mona snapped at the gunman from the car.
Footsteps sounded, then his fingers threaded through my hair, yanking on the strands so hard my scalp burned. He forced me to look at Mona.
She moved towards me, leaning down in front of me and pressing her hands to her knees so we were at eye level.
“You’re never going to touch one of my boys ever again.”
A crash sounded somewhere in the warehouse. Even in my fucked-up state, I clocked the look that passed between Mona and the gunman.
“Go,” she ordered, gaze falling back to me. “We’re not done here.”
He disappeared from the room. Mona stalked over to pick up the gun from the floor, her heels clicking across the concrete.
I worked to keep my head up, but it drifted from side to side as I watched her stalk back in front of me.
“You and your skank of a mother should have stayed the hell away from my family. I’m the one who was made to be the Governor’s wife.”
She cocked the gun, raising it to point it at my head.
“Please…” My voice was hoarse and desperate. “Don’t do this.”
I let my eyes fall closed, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like a tribal drum.
Sinclair, Presley, Dacre, Boston… I love you.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway outside the room, and my eyes flew open. Mona turned towards the sound, the gun still raised at me.
Boston appeared in the doorway like an angel of death. There was a gun in his hand that he raised in Mona’s direction.
She went to speak, but Boston didn’t hesitate.
He pulled the trigger, shooting her square between the eyes.