My hands slam against her chest and narrowly miss the sharp tip of her blade before her hands fist in my hair and she pulls hard. My feet fall out from under me and she quickly drags me through the glass. “Not today, bitch. We’re seeing this through once and for all.”
I scream as she threatens to tear my hair right from my scalp. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s that fucking crazy. “CARVER,” I yell, knowing that he’d be the first one up the stairs, not because the others don’t care enough but because he’s simply the fastest. “CARVER. HELP!”
I fight against Paris’ hold on my hair as she shamelessly drags me through the bathroom and back into my bedroom. A deep, howling laugh tears out of her as I scramble on the floor, desperate for freedom. “Scream all you want, but they’re not coming. It’s just you and me, Princess.”
I kick my legs and my right foot slams right into the center of her back but she doesn’t let up, only laughs louder. “What did you do?” I growl, grabbing hold of her hand over my hair and trying to pry it free. “Where are the boys?”
“What does it matter?” she says, dragging me toward a chair that’s been placed in the center of my bedroom. She pulls with everything she’s got, hauling me across the carpet like a sack of shit and burning my skin. “You’ll be dead by the time I’m through with you.”
Like hell. I kick harder, ignoring the pain in my abdomen and the burning from where she pulls my hair. “WHERE ARE THEY?” My growl is deep and authoritative. It instantly burns my throat, but I push through it, determined not to give up. I will not be dying here today. I need to make sure the boys are okay.
Paris just laughs and adjusts her hold on me until the knife is at my throat. “On the chair, now.”
“Fuck you.”
The blade presses harder and despite my need to fight her every step of the way, if she gets bored of her little, twisted game and slices through my throat, I’m done for and I’ll never get the chance to make sure the guys are alright.
I pull myself up off the ground and slam my naked ass back into the chair with a deep scowl. I watch her every movement as she grabs a belt and fastens it around my arms, chest, and the back of the chair. She pulls it tight—too fucking tight that it squishes my tits and is bound to leave a mark.
I suck in a shallow breath, unable to take anything deeper as I try to reach for her, desperately wishing that I could rip that smirk right off her face.
How am I related to this bitch? I know I have my moments of insanity, but fuck. Is this chick for real? She takes crazy to a whole new level. It’s as though she saw how fucked Sara was in the head and saw it as a challenge rather than a warning.
Once I’m completely bound and unable to move, Paris takes a step back and surveys her handiwork with a sick, twisted grin. She holds the knife in one hand and presses her finger to the tip, spinning it like it’s some kind of cheap toy rather than a deadly weapon that she intends to stab right through my chest.
“You’ve been more trouble than you’re worth, girl,” she spits, looking at me as though I’m nothing but trash that got stuck to the bottom of her foot. “But don’t worry, momma is going to take real good care of you.”
I pull at the belt and she flinches. “Drop the fucking act, Paris. I know you’re not my mother. Everyone fucking knows. You’re done. Kill me all you want but you will never get Dynasty. Your bitch ass plan to take me out and claim my mother’s identity is never going to work. Your game is over. They all know. Everyone fucking knows. You’re done.”
Her eyes widen and they start flickering round the room in a panic. Silence overtakes her and she starts pacing back and forth in front of me, clearly trying to figure out her next move.
“Just tell me what you did to the boys and I’ll let you walk out of here unscathed.”
Her glare shoots back to me as though only just remembering that I’m in the room. “UNSCATHED?” she wails, jumping at me with her knife outstretched, dragging it in a shallow arc across to the top of my shoulder. “You’re in no position to make demands, especially because you’re lying. If everyone knew, I would know.”
I laugh, desperately attempting to mask the sharp stinging coming from my shoulder. “How? Because you’ve got Michael Harding wrapped around your crazy little finger?” Her eyes go wide and she gapes at me. “Yeah, that’s right. We know all about your little affair with Harding, and so does his wife, but don’t worry, we took care of those loose strings for you.”