Alex paced anxiously from one end of the dark guest room to the other, his shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. The air inside the small space was thin, heavy with dust, and smelled faintly of wood polish.
He touched his jaw, his fingers coming away sticky with dark, fresh blood from his uncle's backhand strike. The stinging heat of the blow was nothing compared to the chaotic loop of anxiety running in his head.
He was completely blind to his father and uncle's plans. He had no idea what was happening on the main floor, no idea if Emily was safe, and no idea where Tony's guards had dragged Miller to and if he was even still alive. And Victoria? Was she now on their side?
Alex stepped up to the heavy mahogany door, raised his fists, and banged violently against the wood, the sound echoing through the quiet suite.
"Open the door!" Alex shouted, his voice hoarse, losing every ounce of his usual control. "Let me out of here! Dad! Please…"
