Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Maybe he isn’t here after all. Maybe Sergio rescheduled the shipment and Timeo didn’t leave to come here. Maybe—
Footsteps echo down the pier, heading in my direction.
I stand still and hold my breath.
The bitter cold night wraps around me like a vice, and my breath hangs in the air, half frozen. The waterfront stands silent and desolate, and the icy grip of the ocean breeze chills me to the bone, but I remain hidden, my heart pounding with anticipation. Each passing second feels like an eternity as I wait for a sign, a glimpse of Timeo.
Cautiously, I take a step forward, my footsteps muffled by the snow-covered ground. My heart races as I strain my eyes, hoping to catch any movement in the darkness. The waterfront remains eerily still, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the frozen docks.
A silhouette emerges from the shadows, a figure wrapped in a heavy coat, trudging through the snow. My heart skips a beat as I recognize his profile, the familiar clothes he wears.
Timeo.
Relief washes over me, and I take a steadying breath. He's here, just as I hoped. Now, all I have to do is wait for him to draw nearer, to reveal himself fully, and show me he’s here for his family.
Timeo is loyal to the Montavios, but I need to prove this to myself, to prove that he's loyal to me.
I don't feel very good. My head is a little fuzzy, and my throat hurts. Anxiety?
Breathe, Starla.
I had anxiety attacks back when I was younger, and haven't had one in years, but I know that they can mimic illness.
I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be watching any of this. I should know better.
Can I trust him?
Tires crunch over the icy surface of the pier, followed by the sound of a car door opening and closing.
Car door? It was supposed to be a shipment — on a boat, not someone coming in a car—
Footsteps approach Timeo. Two men. One has a hood ups, his head hanging low as if he wants to avoid notice. He has a second man in his grip. Fairly shoving him at Timeo, the hooded man says something in a low voice.
Timeo takes out an envelope and hands it to him as the second man stands beside him. Even from here, I can see that the man is cuffed, his shoulders hunched, but there’s something…familiar about him.
I’m not breathing. My head feels lighter than air. I swallow and give myself a little shake to clear my head.
Turn. Turn toward the light so I can see you.
“There you are.”
The voice is so near me I stifle a scream. I reach for my gun.
“Don’t even think about it.” Cold metal presses to my side. “Don’t turn around either.”
It’s a woman’s voice and familiar. Who the hell is this?
“I want to see you while you watch. See who the man you fell in love with really is. Go ahead. Watch. Turn around and I pull this trigger. Don’t try anything funny. You’re surrounded.”
My heart races so quickly I feel lightheaded. Or am I lightheaded for another reason?
Timeo —
What will happen if I yell out? How many people are here?
I’m shaking as I watch.
Timeo removes the cuffs of the man in front of him. How strange.
Clouds shift, illuminating their faces. I stand staring, held frozen in place with the gun to my side.
Tears clog my vision. I can still see the barrel of the gun in front of my face. I can still feel the paralyzing fear when he said pull that trigger.
I stare in horror as Timeo shakes the hand of my torturer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Timeo
I stare into the face of the man that tortured Starla and nearly salivate with the need to end him. To make him feel the same type of fear that she did.
And I have to pretend we’re friends.
Not for long.
I bring him into the clubhouse on the pier and hand him a bottle of beer like we’re fucking bros. Meanwhile I don’t know if I ever hated someone so much in my life.
Took fucking years to find his identity. Locked in the state penitentiary in solitary. Escaped the fucking holding place for Starla before we ransacked it.
“How the fuck did you spring me from jail?" Manuel says, his voice oily and low. I’m reminded of a slithering snake.
I shrug. "Someone owed me a favor."
Of course I don't tell him that my end of the bargain means making sure that Manuel Rodriguez no longer has to serve two life sentences… because he’s six feet under.
He fucking deserves it.
Manuel tips back the beer and drinks it in long gulps. He belches, tosses the bottle into a nearby trash bin where it shatters into shards.
“Fuck that was good.”
Enjoy it, motherfucker. That was your last.
Footsteps sound outside. I expect him to be on the defensive, but his face registers no surprise.