Picture Perfect - Page 162

“Damn right,” I spit out, the knife in my hand clicking faster. “And if anyone’s hurt her—”

“We understand, Wraith,” Wolf interjects, his voice calm but firm. “We’re all on the same page here.”

“Good,” Chess cuts in, standing up. His youthful face is set in grim determination. “Because I’m not sitting this one out.”

“None of us are,” I affirm, locking eyes with each member of the team. “Not until she’s with us again.”

“Relax, boys,” Hawk says, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll get your girl.”

“Let’s gear up then,” Saint commands, and we all rise, a united front ready for the battle ahead. This time, there’s no holding back. We’re coming for you, Snowflake.

Chapter seventy-one

Addy ?

?

Ican’t tell how much time has slipped by since I hit the panic button, the one relic of trust they left me. My body feels cold against the hardwood floor of my room, the same spot where I collapsed into a ball of frayed nerves and shattered hope. My breaths come in shallow gasps, each one a question—why haven’t they come?

“Stupid,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible above the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. “It was all a lie, Addy.”

Every second that ticks by is a needle in my chest, sewing the idea tighter: they’re not coming for me. The boys, the promise of rescue, it was all just part of some sick, twisted game. And I fell for it—hook, line, and sinker.

“Game over,” I murmur, my throat parched, the words like sandpaper against my vocal cords.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a constant reminder of how long I’ve been trapped here. The light filtering through the curtains has shifted from the bright blaze of noon to the muted glow of late afternoon—or is it evening now? Time is a cruel, slippery thing.

“Maybe this is it,” I say to the empty room, my voice cracking. “Maybe it’s time to give up.”

But even as the thought crosses my mind, I reject it. Every bruise, every tear, every sleepless night—they’ve forged something within me. Resilience. It’s what’s kept me going when everything else screamed for me to stop. But God, I’m so tired. So very tired.

“Addy Winthrop doesn’t quit,” I remind myself, but the name feels foreign on my tongue. What does it even mean to be Addy Winthrop? A girl taken in by a family that showed their love through clenched fists and sharp tongues? All I’d ever been to them was a picture perfect addition to their family, a way to ensure that William got that senate seat. A girl who’s had to fight for every scrap of dignity she has left?

“Who am I kidding?” I choke out a bitter laugh that turns into a sob. I curl tighter into myself, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“Please,” I whisper into the silence, the word a prayer, a plea, a white flag. “Please…”

The door slams open with a force that startles me out of my numbed reverie. In the frame stands William, his presence like a dark omen. His eyes are wild, unhinged, as he zeroes in on my crumpled form.

“Adelaide,” he snarls, and I can’t help but flinch, shrinking back as if my body could meld into the walls and escape his gaze.

He’s upon me before I can even think of defending myself, his fingers latching onto my hair, pulling sharply until tears well in my eyes. A strangled cry escapes me, more from the shock than the pain. “The deal’s done, sweetheart,” he growls close to my ear, his breath hot and reeking of something sour.

“Please, don’t,” I gasp out, the words barely a whisper, but he only chuckles, a sound laced with malice.

“Thought you could play the game, huh?” He sneers, yanking my head back to force me to look at him. “I’m not letting you get away without getting my share. Waited long enough.”

My heart thuds painfully against my ribs, each beat screaming for me to fight, to survive. The taste of fear is thick in my mouth, but beneath it, there’s anger, too. How dare he reduce me to this?

“Get off me!” I scream, my voice hoarse but loud in the small space. I kick wildly, my legs flailing in an attempt to connect with any part of him I can. My heels slam against his shins, and he curses, but it doesn’t deter him. He’s determined, and that terrifies me more than anything.

“Feisty,” he grunts, trying to pin me down, but I won’t stop moving. I scratch, claw, bite—anything to keep him from taking this last piece of me. “You’re gonna whore yourself out, then let’s see what you’re really worth.”

“Never,” I spit through gritted teeth, the adrenaline giving me a momentary surge of strength. My nails find his cheek, leaving angry red trails in their wake. He howls, his grip loosening for just a second, and I use it.

“Get away from me!” I kick out again, catching him off guard. This time my foot connects with his stomach, and he stumbles backward.

But he recovers too quickly, his face contorted with rage now. “You little bitch,” he hisses, diving for me once more.