Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I’m not getting out of here. I know I’m not. Not until he’s ready to take me to Girard. And by then, he and his brother will have broken me in ways I am sure my mind cannot even begin to grasp. I’m fooling myself to think otherwise.
Wren. What will happen to Wren? Will Zeke look after her? Why would he?
Instinct takes over and I kick backward, not caring about consequences, not sure how it could be worse for me at this point.
“Fuck! Mother fucking cunt!”
He releases me, my toes scrambling to make purchase on the dirt floor. I look over my shoulder to find Wyatt bent over, weight on one foot, rubbing his knee.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that.” He limps toward the nightstand, picks up the hunting knife and stalks back toward me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to fucking kill me. I brace myself for the attack. At least it won’t be rape, right? Tears stream down my face as he grips my hair with one hand and painfully forces my head backward. This time he wraps his legs on either side of mine so I can’t kick him again. I can feel his now limp dick against my hip. He holds me still and brings the blade of the knife to my chest, my nipple.
“No!”
I twist this way and that as I feel the cutting edge of the knife slice into soft flesh.
“That’s it, little bitch. Fight me. I’m going to rape that little asshole while I slice off your nipples.”
His phone rings then and it takes both of us a moment to figure out what the sound is.
“Fuck,” he mutters and stalks away, that knife in his hand. I turn my head to follow him as he picks up his cell phone. He doesn’t answer right away, his face growing darker. The phone stops ringing but starts again and he glances at me as he answers.
“Yes, Mr. Girard. I told you I’d bring her as soon as I—”
He stops. His mouth falls open. “What did you say?” he asks, tone different. He drops onto the edge of the bed.
I scream then. I have to because here and now, bound as I am, I am at his mercy. This Girard might be as bad or worse, but I need to take my chances.
And so, I scream for help, I yell at the top of my lungs that he’s going to murder me. I scream and scream and when I pause to catch my breath, I think I hear a sound outside. The crunching of tires. But my brain doesn’t have time to process before I start again, shutting my eyes to call up all my strength. I only stop when I’m slapped so hard across my face that I swear I feel my brain rattle against my skull. Dazed, ears ringing, I open my eyes to see spots and the vague shape of him.
My eyes are slow to focus. He's there, standing in front of me. Wyatt Hoxton.
I blink, my head heavy.
“He’s dead,” he’s saying when I manage to look at him again. “He’s dead, you little bitch.”
He slaps me again and this time, the ringing in my ears is all the sound I hear, and I think I’m seeing things. I must be. The door is crashing open. But that makes no sense. Not when Wyatt backhands me once more.
“Zeke,” I manage to say, tasting blood, my mind creating the illusion of the man who should hate me. Whom I tried to destroy. That man with all his radiant, burning fury on his beautiful face the last thing I imagine I see as I take the next blow, this one to my stomach, Wyatt’s fist as deadly as his hunting knife.
6
EZEKIEL
I think I hear her call my name. I think through the deafening pumping of blood in my ears, I hear her say my name. But then he hits her again, this time a blow to her stomach that forces the air from her lungs.
Blue is hanging by her wrists in the middle of the room. She’s naked, her body, what I can see of it over the hulking back of Wyatt or Levi or whichever the fuck he is, is covered in welts and bloodied. Her face, too, her pretty face, is smeared with blood. Her head lolls forward, she’s passed out when he hits her again. She won’t feel that, at least. That’s a blessing, right?
Some blessing.
I stalk toward Hoxton as he registers the interruption. And I understand why he didn’t turn when the door came crashing in. I see the fury, the utter rage etched into his face, his eyes, his mouth and his fists.
It takes him a moment to make sense of me being there and I take advantage of his confusion. I draw my arm back and rather than punching him, I slam the heel of my hand into his nose, which already looks bloodied.