Fear holds me hostage.
The Collector walks over to us, power coiled in every step. “What do you think the price is for double-crossing me?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues. “Maybe you should ask Jack?”
“No point,” Sin answers. “Dude can’t talk when he’s dead.”
“Exactly. You know enough of my methods to know that I don’t brook betrayal. He had to go. But I’ve got something special lined up for you, Sin. See, I could shoot you in the head, burn your body, and bury it where no one will find you.”
“You could try.”
The corner of The Collector’s mouth quirks. “Or I could slit the throat of your girl right here.”
“No, you fucking couldn’t.”
Strangely, the thought of dying doesn’t compare to the pure, unadulterated terror of Sin being taken from me. I flatten myself against his side as though my presence will somehow prevent his psychotic father from acting out his threat against him.
Unmoved, The Collector spins to face Saint. “Or I could finish off your brother.” He scratches his chin. “There are so many ways I could fuck my boys up. Christmas came early this year.”
As if on cue, the dude on the right holds Saint up while the tattooed guy on the left punches him in the stomach.
Saint buckles forward, groaning. His matted hair flops onto his swollen face, sticking to the beads of sweat.
“Sin,” I hiss. “Do something.”
He reaches for the waistband of his jeans. Pulling out a gun, he removes the safety and aims it at his father. “Let him go.”
The bruisers drop Saint and point their guns at us.
“What the hell?” I shriek. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Put the gun away,” The Collector orders his son.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“If you don’t, you’re dead. But if you do, I’ll give you a chance to get out of here alive.” The Collector takes in my petrified expression. “That’s what you want, right? Not to die tonight.”
Wary, Sin lowers his weapon and puts it away. He keeps his hand on it though.
The Collector nods. “Good. Now, listen carefully. You’ve got a choice, son. You can either leave with Temple or your brother, but not both. One of them stays with me.” He holds my stare. “That’s your exit strategy.”
Oh, God.
The sound of the ocean rushes through my ears, and the floor undulates like a carnival ride, making me light-headed. “No.” My voice is so faraway, I can barely hear it. “You can’t.”
The Collector would make my father look like a priest.
Thoughts of what he’d do to me if I was forced to stay have bile burning the back of my throat. I’ve heard the stories muttered in the dingiest corners of dive bars. I’ve seen the evidence of limbs missing, teeth removed, and loved ones tortured. There’s no way I’d survive. Not again. He’d make sure of it.
I glance at Saint. He’s crumpled on the floor like a broken, discarded toy. I can’t wish the same fate on him, either.
“If I agree—” Sin begins.
“Are you out of your mind?” I exclaim. “You can’t seriously be considering his offer.”
He ignores me. “If I agree to your terms, no one can stop me or the person I choose to leave with.”
Dizzy, I reach for him. “Stop. You can’t—”
His father nods. “If you make a choice between Saint and Temple, no one will stop you. You have my word.”
Sin observes him closely, his expression unreadable. “And afterward, we have immunity. From you, the assholes you hire, and anyone connected with you or the mob—legit or otherwise. We’re off the grid for good.”
His father’s expression hardens, and a vein in his forehead pulses. “Only if you keep your mouth shut about sensitive issues. Permanently. You’ll know what’ll happen if you don’t.”
Disorientated and nauseous, I tug on Sin’s shirt. “Choose him. He’s your family, it’s the right thing to do. Choose Saint.”
Sin doesn’t look my way.
In my heart, I know it’s the right choice to make. “You heard me. I want you to choose Saint.”
“Temple is coming with me.”
“What?” I gape. “Are you insane? No, I’m swapping places with Saint.” I go to do exactly that.
Sin stops me. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Pussy over blood. You always were a heartless bastard, you must get that from me.” The Collector saunters to Saint’s crumpled form. “I’m going to have fun with you.”
The door crashes open. “Police! Everybody on the ground, now!”
And it all goes to hell.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Temple
Five cops rush inside, their guns drawn.
“Everybody on the ground,” the first calls.
The Collector grabs Sin around the neck and, using his son like a human shield, jams a gun against the side of his head.
“Sin!” I scream.
“Easy, Aaiden,” the first cop warns. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like entering my office without a warrant?” The Collector sneers. “I’ll have your badge for this, Decker.”
Sin whips out a six-inch serrated blade. “Fuck you, old man.”
Oh, God.
“I’m going to paint the walls with your blood, boy.”
“Sin,” Decker yells, his gun raised. “We’ve got him in sight. You don’t need to do this. No one is leaving this room. We’ve got the exits covered.”
Another cop turns to me. “Miss, my name’s Taylor. Come here. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Like fuck you will.” Sin struggles, but The Collector cracks him in the skull with the barrel of his gun.
Sin grunts.
Terrified, I stay where I am.
“Miss?” Taylor repeats.
I glance between him and the man who owns my soul, not wanting to go anywhere without him.
Beside me, a fight breaks out between Saint and The Collector’s men. Grabbing him in a headlock, the tattooed bruiser pummels Saint’s face with his fist while the other kicks him in the ribs.
“Hey!” Decker calls. “On the ground, all of you!”
With a final punch, tattooed bruiser knocks Saint out cold. He throws Saint over his shoulder and legs it through the concealed exit, his companion close behind.
“The fuck, man?” Sin yells. “You said you had the exits covered!”
The Collector flips the safety.
Panicked, Decker gestures to his colleagues. “Barrett, Romano, Jones, don’t let them escape.”
With my gaze fixed on The Collector, I silently beg, Don’t do this. Please don’t hurt Sin.
“I’m going to enjoy this.” The Collector smirks.
“Back the fuck up, asshole or you’ll regret it,” Sin grits out.
“You’re as pathetic as your mother. All talk and no action.”
Like a goddamn warrior, Sin fists the knife and slams it into his father’s thigh. The Collector howls in pain, dropping his gun. Desperate, he reaches for the knife, but Sin is too quick. He tears it from his father’s leg, spins to face him, and plunges the blade deep in The Collector’s neck.