The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, each one sending another wave of tension through Bill’s battered body.
His grip tightened around the phone.
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to move, to get up, to do something, but fear rooted him to the chair.
Monroe’s warning echoed in his mind. The beating. The threats. The cold certainty in the man’s eyes when he spoke about consequences.
Had they changed their minds?
Had Damien Blackwood decided twenty-four hours was too generous after all?
A cold sweat broke across Bill’s skin as the footsteps drew closer.
Each one echoed through the hollow silence of the mansion like a countdown to an execution.
His pulse hammered in his ears.
It had to be Monroe.
Who else would come back after what happened?
Bill’s breathing quicke
