"Eldric, please! I'll pay anything—just name your price! The money's yours if you let me walk away!"
Demontae was shaking with terror. Eldric's brutality had left him broken—one snapped arm sent white-hot pain exploding through his body, threatening to drag him into darkness. If those merciless hands struck again? He'd be greeting the Grim Reaper before sunset.
Death? Hell no—not when he had fortunes to spend and women to conquer. Desperation made him generous. In his mind, he'd already signed over half the family vault if it meant survival. The Connors' wealth was bottomless, and what good was gold if you weren't alive to spend it?
Right now, he wasn't afraid of being robbed blind. No, his blood ran cold at the thought that Eldric might refuse altogether.
Yet even as fear clawed at hi
