A low, grating laugh rattled in his throat. “Petty’s waist is so soft... You have no idea how gorgeous she gets when the drug kicks in. Lying on top of her, I thought I might just give her my whole life...”
A huge hand clamped around the back of his neck, yanking him right off the bed.
Owen found himself staring straight into a pair of cold, black eyes, so icy it chilled him to his core. For a split second, he was sure he was looking at the same man who’d beaten him to the brink just the other evening.
That thought barely even formed before Franco dragged him off the bed and tossed him to the floor.
The thud shook him, tearing through the pain of old fractures until he felt like his bones were being ground to dust all over again. Then a polished leather shoe pressed down on his trembling fingers.
“Someone like you thinks you’re worthy of touching her?” Franco’s voice was low as he ground his heel even harder onto Owen’s hand.
Somehow, the hallway had gone completely silent. Not a single guard outside, not a sound in the whole building. You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Franco stared down at Owen, his shoe crushing bone like Owen was just an insect. “If it weren’t for me, Petty never would have gotten into the White family,” he said quietly.
Owen, dizzy and on the verge of blacking out, heard Petty’s name in Franco’s mouth, and for some reason, it sent a chill right through his chest.
It was like Franco was letting slip some secret, something dark and hidden way, way down in his soul.
Desperate to stay awake, Owen gritted his teeth and rasped, “What… What are you saying?”
What did Petty joining the White family have to do with Franco at all?
Nothing made sense. None of it.
He tried to grab Franco’s leg, but Franco just kicked him over without hesitation.
Blood spilled from Owen’s lips. As his vision swam, he caught Franco’s gaze—cold, almost inhuman. “From the moment her parents died, she was always meant to be mine.”
The iron door slammed shut.

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