You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 93

My eyes darted around the place, looking for anything that could be of help. Nothing. Except the phone on the floor.

Without thinking, I lunged for it, but yet again, Grayson was faster. His hand came around my throat as he pulled me to himself.

"Son of a bitch! Let me go! Let me—hah!"

The sting of a needle piercing my skin stole the air from my lungs before the haze took over.

Grayson dropped me then and I fell on all fours with a thud that sounded miles away.

No, no, no.

I tried to grab for something—anything—but my fingers didn't listen. My muscles felt like wet cloth, heavy and uncoordinated.

The room seemed to fold in slow, terrible waves, like everything was being packed away one corner at a time.

I didn't know when the asshole held me. Somehow, I was on the bed.

"No... Pl...ease."

I couldn't form words.

Grayson's face hovered above mine, blurry and monstrous. "Don't worry, Zerali. I'll be gentle, I promise."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

VOID

He came in blindfolded, hands cuffed behind his back.

My men shoved him down onto the chair opposite mine.

I leaned back and drank him in. Black boots. Black jeans. And of course, a turtleneck shirt. This time, it was grey. Years had passed, but some obsessions clearly hadn't.

"Okay. Can the show come to an end now? I think I've been cooperative enough." his voice was roughened by irritation.

One of the men actually moved to undo the blindfold, but I lifted a finger. Just for the fun of it.

"Come on! Wherever you are. Just take this off already. It's not like I'm getting a surprise, am I?"

I smiled. There was something deeply satisfying about watching a man thrash inside his own mind.

He cursed under his breath, but eventually surrendered to the silence, shoulders going stiff. Only then did I nod for the cuffs and blindfold to be removed.

He blinked furiously as light stabbed into his eyes for the first time in forty-five minutes. His gaze skittered across the old dusty room, barely grazing over me like I was just part of the furniture.

"And here I was hoping for a little glamour," he muttered under his breath.

Finally, he settled his eyes on me and a smile slipped through. "The Torturer."

Everyone else filtered out. I already told them I'd be needing the room with him when he's brought in.

He brought his hand to the table between us where he massaged his wrists. "Was it really necessary to drag me here like some half-rate criminal? I get offended, you know?"

I offered a smile that barely reached my eyes. "Trust me, I actually considered taking your eyes out instead. You should thank one of my men for suggesting otherwise."

Though he put up a brave front, I didn't miss the flicker of unease in his grey eyes.

Let's just say his arrival wasn't red-carpet worthy. The address I sent was a decoy—miles from where I actually wanted him. He got to stand around and wait for ten minutes, long enough for my men to confirm he was alone. Then, they swarmed him, frisked him, bagged him, and drove him here right where I wanted.

The only resemblance between the asshole and I was the grey in our eyes. Other than that, we didn't look alike. Thank fuck.

"Blade, huh?" I rested my hands on the table. "Nice name."

"At least, it's similar to my actual name—Blayne. But yours..." his brows pulled together. "Void is quite a strange name and bears no similarity."

"Frankly speaking," his lips had stopped bleeding so his arms were folded across him. "you've done a great one with your legacy. You know, twelve years ago, when you said you needed all that money, I never imagined it was for a purpose like this."

He nodded. "It warms my heart, truly, to know I contributed to your success."

Fucking hell.

I tilted forward as a laugh bubbled in my chest. "Blade, you gave me nothing. Every cent I earned twelve years ago was soaked in sweat and blood, and not a damn dime had your name on it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it was with my connection, you know? I mean, if I hadn't brought the—"

"The only reason I'm repeating this question is because we were cursed enough to share a womb: What the fuck are you doing in Stonebridge?"

Whatever joke he thought he was living died the second he looked in my eyes and noticed my stare had flipped a switch.

Good.

"I'm here to collect a debt."

I said nothing. But then, I didn't need to, because he went on.

"I helped someone. Okay? We had a deal. But after I held up my own end, they're trying to deflate."

My fingers leisurely tapped the table. "Unless ‘Someone' is the name printed on their birth certificate, you'll have to do better than that."

He rolled his eyes, clearly hesitating.

I laughed. A real, unfiltered laugh. Because if it had been anyone else, they'd have been gagged and strapped to a metal frame, not sipping air across from me.

He must've read that exact thought somewhere between the twitch in my eye and the twitch in my fingers, because his shoulders sank, and the name tumbled out. Though, it wasn't one I expected.

"Vlyrissa Thorne."