Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
By the time I came to and was able to open my eyes, my arms were secured, and I couldn’t move.
I looked up, seeing my right wrist tied to the treadmill with one of Aydin’s neckties, and my other wrist bound to his wrist with my belt. I looked over at him, seeing his left hand was also tied with his belt to the hook holding back the drapes.
I belted out a growl, yanking my arms and grunting as I glared at the girls.
“What are you doing?” I yelled. “What the fuck!”
They walked about the room, doing things and ignoring us, and I stared at Em, who wouldn’t even look at me. I wasn’t the one out of control here.
“Hey!” Micah said, Rory, Taylor, and him all rushing to the doorway. “What the hell’s going on?”
But Emmy charged over and kicked the door shut, propping a chair underneath it.
“This is bullshit!” I shouted.
But Aydin just laughed, shaking his head. He wasn’t threatened by them.
Emmy poured herself another glass of bourbon and then pulled off her T-shirt, leaving herself in Rory’s cut-offs and a bra.
She tried to look over her shoulder, and I could see a red spot forming on her back. Did she get hurt in that tussle? I remembered them on us briefly, but I didn’t know she’d fallen.
She took a sip of the drink as Alex inspected the damage.
“I’m okay,” Em assured her.
But Alex spun around, fire in her eyes as she glared at us like she wanted to kill us. “None of this is okay!”
She wiped the sweat off her face and walked into the bathroom, turning on the faucet while Emory downed the alcohol and poured herself another shot. She stood there quietly, and I continued to yank and pull on the six-hundred-pound treadmill like I’d actually be able to free myself. What the hell was the plan here? What were they going to do? Take control? Enlist the others?
Emory looked over at us—or me—through her glasses and hesitated a moment before bringing her glass over and sitting down on the carpet in front of us, just far enough away that we couldn’t reach her.
I held her eyes.
“The time you drove me home from the away game,” she said, “and we stopped at the Cove, I had a thought that night.”
All she did was think that night. She overthought everything.
“Part of me resisted you because I didn’t want to bring you into my horrible life,” she told me. “I was embarrassed and full of anger and without hope. I couldn’t give you anything.”
I tipped my chin up, remaining silent.
“But a part of me also resisted you because I feared I’d just be trading one abuse for another,” she explained. “How you coerced me, pushed me, wouldn’t leave me alone when I told you to… Tried to scare me.”
My gaze twitched as I studied her. I wasn’t abusive. I was a little spoiled and cocky, but I never wanted to hurt her.
She dropped her eyes, taking a sip. “The thought left me as quickly as it came,” she added, “because I wanted you, and deep down I held so tightly to the hope of you. I needed that.” She raised her gaze again. “But now, I wonder if I was right. Here I am, covered in bruises again. Maybe your world is just as bad as mine.”
I shook my head, but any protest I wanted to offer back died in my throat.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, as if Aydin and Alex weren’t in the room. And then firmer, “Huh? What do you want?”
Alex dropped down behind her, peering over her shoulder as both women sat there, challenging us.
“Who put me here?” Emmy asked. “Who thought I should be here with you? Damon, maybe? Michael?”
“Maybe it’s someone who hates you?” I shot back. “Your brother?”
She hesitated. “Why now?”
I grunted as I pushed myself up, using my shoulder to wipe off the blood dripping over my upper lip. “I think you know why.”
A look passed between us, because she knew what I was talking about. She was his loose end. The only other person who knew what they had orchestrated to send my friends and me to prison all those years ago.
“This place costs money,” she argued.
“His new wife has a lot of that.”
She does? I’d never met her.
But I countered. “He’d save the money and kill me if he actually thought I was a threat.”
“Would he?” I retorted. “In his head, I’m sure he thinks he loves you. Like Humbert Humbert.” And then I shrugged. “Perhaps he wants to teach you a lesson. Make you suffer.”
To my surprise, amusement crossed her eyes. “Because he loves me so much, right?”
Typical abuser. He never hated her, just like Damon’s mom never hated him, and none of us ever hated Rika when we were stealing her inheritance, kidnapping her family, and burning down her house. The diseased mind only sees its own intentions, and everything they did and everything we did justified the end.