Upper Hand by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

13

GABRIEL

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

My mind has fled the scene. It’s barely in my body anymore. If I go back there, I know what I’ll feel. I’ll feel brick up against my face. I’ll feel blood between my fingers. That man’s hand, rough on my neck. I’ll feel everything that happened, and I can’t.

Not if I’m going to survive this.

Brick against my cheek. A hand on the back of my neck. Got you.

Fuck. No.

I could say something. A protest. Hey, this is too far. We all know that. I won’t do it. Saying that will only get me an invitation to a room with plastic sheets and a bullet through my head.

I have a limited amount of time to respond.

Brick. The hand. The blood.

I shove it away, harder this time. Something snaps. Deep in my brain. I’m hovering just outside my body. For one, two, three—

And then I tumble back in.

Take another breath.

I can’t sacrifice myself for this. I can’t die yet. If I refuse and let them murder me tonight, Elise would still be in danger. Someone else could hurt her.

Elise’s dark eyes are locked on mine, wide and frantic. It looks like no. It looks like I don’t want this. But then her eyebrows draw together, a fraction of an inch…

What is she begging me to do?

I make eye contact with Jacob. He looks at me, eyebrows raised, a familiar tilt to his mouth. He doesn’t look shaken, but he is. I’ve known him long enough to know. This expression is a cool veneer over his shock. A small, faraway part of me is relieved as all hell that Jacob is still capable of being shocked by this. The world hasn’t stripped away all the goodness from him yet.

Me? I’m not shocked. I’m seconds from throwing up on the floor, but I’m not shocked. Bettencourt would do this. There’s nothing he won’t do.

Jacob cracks his most adorable smile and glances from Elise to her father with mild confusion. He lets out a short laugh. “Mr. Bettencourt. Can’t I just…embezzle some money for you? A little corporate espionage? Something along those lines. I’m happy to sign my name and provide the evidence.”

“You already do that.” Wilson Chambers, from his seat at the side of the table. “You’ve always been a good boy. This is what the consortium has decided.”

He uses a chiding, gentle tone to remind his son that he’s supposed to be forcing someone right now, not negotiating the terms.

Bettencourt claps his hands. The sound pushes me up against a brick wall. It digs into my cheek, bruising the skin. I’ll have that bruise for weeks. The stitches from the knife wound will pull every time I move. Every time I get out of bed to get Remy ready for school. Every time I get down on my knees to suck a man off in the alley. I’ll carry my own knife after this but it will be too late. It will be far too late.

“Enough waiting,” he intones.

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