Chapter 7
"Walk to the service line," Damon ordered, pointing toward the bright white stripe painted on the asphalt.
"Damon, this isn't funny anymore," Evelyn pleaded, her American accent cracking as tears began to stream down her fair cheeks. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry! I shouldn't have turned it on."
"Walk," Damon repeated, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Evelyn looked at the two bodyguards, who stood like statues on either side of the humming ball machine. She looked at Miles, who was still unconscious, bleeding onto the court. She realized, with absolute certainty, that no one was going to help her.
Trembling, she stumbled forward, her athletic shoes dragging across the court until she stood directly on the white service line.
Damon followed her. He stopped ten feet away, holding the remote. He raised his hand and pointed the device directly at the machine.
"Damon, please," Evelyn begged, holding her hands up to shield her face. "The dial is still set to maximum speed! Miles turned it all the way up before you unplugged it! It will break my skin!"
"I know," Damon said.
He slowly walked forward, closing the distance until he was standing just inches away from her. He reached out, taking her wrist in his hand. Evelyn flinched, but he didn't strike her. Instead, he forced her hand open and firmly pressed the black remote into her palm.
Evelyn stared at the remote, completely bewildered. "What... what is this?"
Damon took a step back. The sunlight caught the loose strands of wavy hair falling over his forehead. His cold, sharp eyes bored into her soul.
"This time, you stand where she stood," Damon said, his voice quiet, lethal, and absolute.
"I don't understand," Evelyn whispered, her hands shaking so violently the remote almost slipped from her grasp. "You want me to turn it on myself?"
"Yes," Damon replied.
"I won't do it!" Evelyn cried out, dropping her arm to her side. "You can't make me shoot myself with a machine!"
"You will press the button, Evelyn," Damon said, his words slow and perfectly spaced. "Because if you do not empty that entire hopper, my men will drag your brother's unconscious body to the baseline, and they will turn the machine on him."
Evelyn gasped, looking back at Miles. "You're a psychopath."
"I am a father," Damon corrected softly. "Press the button."
"No!" Evelyn shouted.
Damon didn't argue. He turned his head slightly toward the bodyguards. "Drag him over."
The two men immediately stepped toward Miles, grabbing him by the arms of his tailored jacket. They began to drag him across the rough asphalt. Miles groaned softly, his head lolling to the side.
"Stop! Stop!" Evelyn shrieked, raising the remote. "I'll do it! Just leave him alone!"
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"Drop him," Damon commanded. The guards let Miles fall back to the ground.
Damon looked back at Evelyn. "Press it."
