Page 72 of It Destroys Me

“I assumed you’d want Astrid.”

“You assumed wrong.”

My heart should pound in my chest, but it remained slow. His plan started to unfold in front of my eyes. Once he had me, he would kill me—and nothing would get in his way again. Astrid would have nowhere to run. Axel would need to focus on protecting his family, as he should.

“It’s you or Scarlett. What’s it going to be, Theo?”

If I’d known that a love affair with Astrid was going to get me killed, it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. I would still want her. I just wished the story would end happily for her, instead of trapped with him.

“You have five seconds before I change my mind.” He spoke to the guys in the background. “Cock the gun and put it to her head.”

Scarlett screamed in the background.

There was no other choice. I had to do this. “I’m coming, asshole.”

“Oh good,” Bolton said. “I’ll have a scotch waiting for you.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Octavio.

He seemed to hear everything based on the sadness in his eyes.

I took off the vest and left it on the table. Put down the rifle and removed the handgun from the back of my jeans.

“What’s the plan?” Octavio asked.

“There is no plan,” I said before I turned around. “He won.”

I was handcuffed, and a bag was placed over my head.

You weren’t blindfolded if you were going to die, so Bolton was paranoid that I would get the upper hand and call for backup. But if I didn’t know where to send them, then I would be cut off at the knees.

It was a long drive, at least an hour and a half. The road was smooth before it turned bumpy as we went into the countryside. They were probably taking me to a village in the middle of the hills, surrounded by acres of olive trees and vineyards, so remote that gunshots wouldn’t be heard.

I didn’t say a word, and neither did the guys in the car.

I should be panicked right now, but the sense of defeat was potent. All I cared about was getting Scarlett out of there. Some men would have shot Scarlett when I turned up just because they could, but I didn’t believe Bolton would do that. Not when he knew Astrid cared about her. As sick and twisted as his mind was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fix their marriage if he killed her friend.

We drove up a hill, and then the van came to a stop. The door was pulled open, and the bag was yanked off my head before they shoved me out of the van. With my wrists still bound together, I walked forward, looking at the Tuscan villa as it stood glorious in the uplighting. The guy behind me pushed me forward. “Move.”

I threw my body back and hit him so hard he faltered backward and smacked into the van door. “Tell me to move again.” I might be handcuffed and they might have guns, but I was still bigger than every single one of them.

He looked pissed off but didn’t do anything.

Bolton would want me to die by his hand, so I knew there would be no retaliation.

They took me through the terrace, a fountain in the center with lights hung overhead. Must have been one of Bolton’s properties. Perhaps he took Astrid here in the summer once the crowds swelled in the city.

They walked me through the double doors, and I entered the home. We passed the foyer then entered the large living room, big enough to comfortably fit twenty people. Scarlett was on one of the couches, her hands tied behind her back, her left eye black and swollen.

She looked at me, and her uninjured eye started to well up.

I was the one about to be shot and dumped in a landfill, but I chose to comfort her. “It’ll be alright.”

Bolton walked into the room in a collared shirt and slacks, a grin on his face. “Glad you could join us, Theo. Take a seat.”

I remained where I stood. “We made a deal.” I continued to stand in front of Scarlett even though I couldn’t do a damn thing to protect her. “Now let her go.”

“We’ll get to that.” Bolton moved to one of the armchairs, practically giddy as he crossed his legs.