Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I was so sure I felt something between us, but the more time ticks by, the more I question it all. Especially after what I heard him say. What if he was only keeping me here because I’m to be handed over to some other person? At least I know Laurel won’t be meeting that fate. I don’t think I’m going to be so lucky. It does, however, make me wonder what would happen if I showed up at Santino’s again.
It’s funny how the one man I wanted to beat the hell out of is now the one I think I need to run to. I check the time again.
“Go time.” I let out a breath, trying to shake off the anxiety. There is only going to be one chance for me to get this right.
Once they know I spotted this small window of time, they’ll fix it. I grab the book off my bed and flip it open, pretending to read it as I leave my room, keeping my head down as I go. If anyone is paying attention, they’ll likely think I’m heading to one of the gardens to read like every other day.
That’s not my plan today, though. I make my way down the long hallways, not glancing toward the main church doors. My destination is the kitchen. I slow my pace as I grow closer. I peek inside and see the sunlight pouring in from the side.
When I see a shadow block the light, I pull back and wait a second before looking again. My eyes lock on the back of a man carrying a giant bag through the kitchen and toward the massive pantry. This is it. I creep through the kitchen, not wanting to draw his attention. This is my only chance, I remind myself. I can’t afford to make any mistakes.
The second my feet hit concrete, I take off, not knowing where I’m going. I just run, the sun slightly blinding me. I hear someone shout after me, but it only makes me run faster. My legs burn and my chest aches, but I keep going.
“Fuck,” I breathe when I see a giant metal back gate ahead of me. I don’t know if it’s a miracle, but the gates start to slide open.
I burst through the small opening as it grows bigger. I almost run right into a black car. My hands land on the hood. Lars' eyes lock with mine. I glance up to see a figure sitting in the back passenger seat. My guess is Bjornsson.
I dart to the right, knowing Lars is going to open the door to try and stop me, but I hold my hands out and shove it as hard as I can on him. I’m surprised when it actually clicks shut. Not for long, though. I hear it open behind me, but I don’t turn to look. I keep running.
“Watch it.”
“The fuck.”
People snap at me as I push my way through them, not caring who I bump into. A horn sounds when I run across a street. The sound of tires screeching to not hit me. Still I keep moving. My heart leaps when I see a bus ahead. There really might be a God.
“Wait!” I scream.
The bus driver actually stops closing the door, letting me jump on. “Go please,” I tell them the second I’m inside.
“All right.” The woman driving takes off without question. I drop my head trying to catch my breath. “Why don’t you sit down,” she offers.
“I don’t have a pass.” Worry fills me for a second that everything I did to get away will be for nothing.
“Have a seat, honey.”
“Thank you.” I drop down into the first seat. A few people are giving me curious stares, but I ignore everyone. I did it. Holy shit. I should be happy, but my heart is still heavy.
“You need me to call anyone?” the bus driver asks after a handful of stops. The question makes my stomach clench. There is no one to call. I shake my head.
“How far south do you go?”
“17th.”
I glance at the street sign. “That’s the next?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I tell her again when the bus stops.
“You sure you don’t want me to call someone? You don’t have to get off.”
“I’m good, but thank you.” I give her a warm smile, stepping off the bus. It’s only a three-block walk to Santino’s building.
I pray I’m not wrong about Santino now. He sounds very protective of Laurel. He’ll either give me back to Bjornsson or let me in. I debate for a second standing outside of his building. Maybe I should run. I could leave the city. Then what? I don’t have my bag. The only things I have are the clothes on my back.
I never get the chance to make my decision. A hand comes down over my mouth, an arm around my waist. My feet leave the ground. A second later, I’m pulled into the back of a car, the door slamming closed behind me.