Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

Chapter Twenty-SevenBrandonI wasted no time getting there. My foot was flat to the floor, pushing the car hard all the way up north along the motorway. I remembered this one of Drake’s manors from a few summers back. It was burned as far into my memory as it needed to be as I chose the best route to get to it.

Eric’s unrecognised number flashed up a few times on my dashboard with messages, and I wish I could have answered them, but I was driving way too fucking hard.

Gotta get here, bro. Drake’s in on the action himself soon.

Trying my best here, but it ain’t gonna be good enough.

He’s got his fucking highness York ready for the action too. I can’t hold them off. Not all of them. Get here fast, bro!

I would do. I’d get there as fast as I fucking could, driving like a madman.

Luckily there were no flashing blue lights or speed camera explosions. There was only me, overtaking streams of traffic and shrieking along on the side roads. I was doing my best, pushing my hardest, cursing under my breath at the necessity to get the hell up there.

Until I was there. In the heart of the fucking action.

Village signs came first, then the quaint little streets of rural suburbia. The streets turned to lanes on the other side, one of them curling up into the hills with the lights of the manor glowing bright. And I was ready for it. Holy shit, I was ready for it.

I screeched onto the driveway, throwing myself out of my car with my face twisted up in a rage, not giving two shits for the security guards heading down to meet me there, well aware from the recognition on their faces that they were at least partly expecting me. I raced across the gravel and up towards the redbrick building, the lights brightly illuminating hedgerows and wide stone steps and the ridiculously grand suits these assholes were wearing for appearances.

“Drake,” I said, without so much as a hint of concern. “Fucking take me to him.”

One of them made to take hold of my arm, but I shook him off.

“Fucking take me to him!” I repeated and he held his hands up before pointing me on into the main hallway.

The place was just as I remembered. A huge staircase curling up into the house, and a low-hanging chandelier with sparkling lights. I could picture Paige being cast in here, not having a clue where she was destined for, and cursed again under my breath again at the thought of the fear ripe in her.

“Where the fuck is he?” I snapped at the two guards, and once again one of them gestured me on forwards.

I climbed the staircase on their instruction, taking them three at a time and propelling myself right up there to the top. I had no real idea where the cunt was holed up, but the security guards were obvious in their pointing along the landing and corridors until the lighting turned to low and the intensity of the place heightened.

The action was close by, I could feel it. Virtually fucking taste it. It was ripe in my veins from experience. The tension in the air. The hormones, the wants, the endorphins, all fucking pulsing and pounding.

Somehow I knew it was my sweet little Paige at the heart of it too.

One of the guards pinged through ahead with some mobile device but kept his words to a minimum, another look passing between the two of them.

“You’d do best to stay the fuck out of this,” I told them. “This is between two business partners and Drake himself’s got some questions to fucking answer before the shit starts to fly.”

I’d never had a problem intimidating people with my tone. The look between them turned more nervous as they weighed up events, one of them shrugging barely perceptibly.

“I mean it,” I offered. “This shit storm is going to get real fucking messy, you’d do best to hang your job on the rack for the night and get the hell out of here.”

“Drake’s through this way,” one of them pointed to a door at the far end of the existing corridor. “We’ll wait out here until we’re called.”

I nodded my thanks, but didn’t offer any further words to them, just headed on through with my heart fucking racing, desperate to stop whatever fucking crazy was going down here.

The door was open, and led on through to darkness, just me in a room full of empty seats and a wall of one-way mirrors, with a well-lit dungeon on the other side.

A well-lit dungeon with the love of my fucking life in it.

She was suspended. Shaking. Looking beautiful in white, teetering on tiptoes as the cunt I’d called a business partner for long over a decade paced in front of her.