Heir in Exile Read Online Free PDF Page B

to make citizens disappear with alarming speed. The Chey Sinclair sitting before us will cease to exist and become some sheik's plaything in a harem until she loses whatever appeal she might have. Then she will become someone else's plaything, or used to generate income in a manner I don't think either of you would approve of.”
    Chey listened with growing horror. This went far beyond being detained in a musty cell below the King's castle. They meant to make her disappear for good, in a way that would ultimately be worse than death. She glanced at Sander. He wasn't looking at her, but at the leader of the group. Following the man with his eyes. Chey couldn't tell what he was thinking, although he must still be planning an out. Some kind of escape.
    He would not allow her to be sent off and get lost in any human trafficking system.
    “Do you understand? This is non-negotiable, Sander Ahtissari. You will be exiled, and she will become a victim of trade if you do not do as you're told. Accept your due, and she will be returned to her old life.” The leader of the group circled Chey's chair twice, flicking a piece of her hair with a finger. He came to stand in front of their chairs once more, looking between them.
    “I can see from the look in your eyes that you need more convincing,” the leader finally said to Sander.
    “He has always been stubborn like that,” another, familiar voice said from around the corner of an archway.
    Chey snapped a glanced that direction. A cold chill gripped her spine.
    Mattias stepped into view, leaning a shoulder against a marble column. Dark eyes shifted between Sander and Chey with careless disregard. He said, “But I'm guessing he didn't see this coming.”

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Not Mattias. Chey repeated the mantra while shock held her immobile in the chair. She heard Sander hiss to her right, the first sign of reaction since the leader began speaking. Glancing between brothers, Chey found them staring at each other with impossible to read expressions.
    No matter how Chey tried to reason what was going on, her mind simply refused to accept that Mattias had a hand in this. He couldn't have been stringing Sander along the whole time—could he? Was it all a lie? Mattias stood next in line to the throne; he had the most to gain if Sander was ousted as heir.
    The man she'd come to know, had lunched with, conversed with, confided in, would not do this to his brother. Yet there Mattias stood, looking for all the world as if everything was falling neatly into place.
    “The cat seems to have got his tongue,” the leader said to Mattias, in regard to Sander's silence.
    “He won't say anything. It's his way,” Mattias replied. His attention returned to Sander. “What the man says is true, brother. Unfortunately, Chey will find that unlucky fate as her own should you not return of your own accord and accept the terms of exile. The sooner, the better. Chey is scheduled to be transferred this evening to a holding cell before finding her way onto a bus bound inland in the morning. If I were you, I would get moving.”
    Sander pushed up from the chair. Several armed men brought their guns up, muzzles aimed at Sander's chest.
    “Careful boys,” Mattias chided. “Dead bodies are messy. See him out.”
    Sander looked away from Mattias to Chey. For the first time, she was able to read the gleam in his eyes. His held promise of retribution, of rescue. He would do everything in his power to free her.
    She inclined her head, a subtle motion of acknowledgment. Sander turned his gaze on Mattias once more as he started for the door of the suite. He pointed a finger at his brother, the kind of gesture that also promised retribution.
    Mattias, if Sander's gesture could be believed, had not seen the last of him.
    Chey felt sick. Her stomach churned and clenched. She watched Sander depart the room with two armed men in his wake. They kept a careful distance, leaving the door open behind them. Once