Page 82 of Razor

Ryder grins.

“It’s another world, guys. Wait until you meet the members; that will be interesting.”

Snake shakes his head. “This shit never gets old.”

Creed asks, “Have you met them before?”

Snake nods. “A few times. But ask me to identify them in a lineup and I couldn’t.”

Ryder chuckles. “You’ve gotta admire them. I kind of love what they created here.”

“Do you trust them?” I ask, desperate to move this on, and Ryder nods. “With my life.”

I’m surprised by that. Ryder isn’t one to trust anyone other than a Reaper, and I wonder if he knows more about this club than he’s letting on.

He points to the staircase.

“We may as well make the most of this place. Settle in, and when you’re ready, meet on the terrace. I can promise you their hospitality is second to none.”

We do as he says because he’s right; this place is amazing, and now that he mentions it, food would be very welcome right now.

CHAPTER 42

SUNDAY

Once again, I’m locked in my room, with only my thoughts for company.

It suits me. I’m guessing Santiago is counting on breaking me. That can be the only reason he keeps me locked in here. He will bring me to my knees, so I’ll agree to anything just to get out of this hellhole. He is wrong. I willneveragree to anything he asks.

I am counting down the hours until our ‘date’ tonight. If it means I’m leaving this mansion, I’m good with that. There is no way in hell I’ll return with him if I get one second’s chance to escape, and my mind is buzzing with plans to make that happen.

Around midday, the door opens, the sound of the key in the lock my only heads up.

I shiver as the silent woman heads into the room carrying a tray of water and bread, my usual lunchtime treat.

I observe her silently, my gaze unwavering, wondering how she can be so cruel. She never looks at me, merely carries out her duties like a robot, and I wonder if Santiago is torturing her too, in his usual demonic way.

“Thank you.”

For the first time, I inject some warmth into my voice, and it catches her out a little as she tenses.

I say softly, “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for any of this. I’ve known Santiago a long time and understand how persuasive he can be.”

She still says nothing, but her movements are slower, almost as if she is hanging on to my words.

I take my chance.

“If he is keeping you here against your will, there are people out there who can help you. I accept my fate, but you have more freedom that me. You can save yourself if I tell you who to call.”

Her shoulders tense, and she straightens up, her movements slower than usual, telling me she’s listening at least.

“I want to help you, but I don’t know your name. That’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but you must seek help. There is no knowing what Santiago will do when he gets bored with the situation. You have seen his madness firsthand, and I would hate to see it unleashed on you.”

She nods, the first indication I have that she understands me, and she turns, her gaze loaded with turbulence, hatred flashing from her eyes.

I hold my breath, praying that hatred is not directed at me, and she glances toward the door, a nervous flicker in the pulse in her jawline.

“I wish I could help you, Josephine.”