Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah, save it for the boss, big boy.” After gesturing for us to follow him, he announces, “Kirill wants to see you.” He locks his eyes with mine. “Both of you.” Before I can blink, he flattens his gun to my temple like he knows I am the only bargaining chip Ghost has left to barter with. “I’ll take those,” he murmurs, gesturing his head to Ghost’s gun holster he’s wearing on the outside of his clothing today. When Ghost’s teeth grit, he adds, “And the one strapped to your ankle.”
“I’ll have your fucking head for this,” Ghost sneers in a vicious tone as he removes his holster before lifting the cuff of his pants. He doesn’t hand his weapons to Watermelon Head. He tosses them onto a desk before ensuring he knows he will be coming back for them. “Because I’m gonna shove them into every fucking orifice you own before releasing the trigger. You’ll be eating shit and brain matter at the same time.”
The goon smiles. It is foolish for him to do because it doubles Ghost’s determination. He’s furious, downright ropeable, and his wish to kill doubles when we reach the stern of the boat. We’re not the only duo Kirill has summoned. Alek and Anastasia are here as well.
“You want to have a good fucking reason for dragging me out here after that showdown.” He nudges his head to the carnage left for the dock workers to clean up. “Sniper bullets can travel miles.”
Terror rains down on me when Kirill murmurs, “That would have been handy to know.” It isn’t the viciousness of his words that has me choking back a sob. It is the gun he pulls out from behind him that he arrows onto Ghost’s chest. “Would have saved me the cleanup.”
“I’m your fucking brother, you can’t touch me.”
My shock that Ghost and Kirill are related doesn’t get the chance to sink in. “No!” I scream in a frantic roar when three bullets shred through Ghost’s midsection. They hit him in rapid succession, pushing him back so forcefully, he hits the salt-eroded floor with a thud.
As Anastasia’s eyes shoot to Alek in panic, I dive for Ghost. Splatters of the blood Ghost is choking on as he fights to live dots my cheeks when I shield him from additional carnage with my body. “Hold on. Please.”
He could survive.
He’s still breathing.
It is low and wheezy, but he’s not close to dead.
“No,” I scream when an arm wraps around my waist, and I’m dragged behind a large stack of shipping containers. It isn’t just the image of Ghost lying lifeless that’s shutting down my emotions. It is the direction Kirill aims his gun next.
He is pointing it at Alek’s head.
I’m paralyzed with fear when a bullet being fired ricochets throughout the containers only seconds later. It cruelly informs me I have nothing to live for anymore and absolutely no hope.
Not a single iota.
So, with my mind shut down and my heart shattered, I ram my elbow into the goon’s rib, throw back my head, then start my sprint to hell with a grunt.
I’ll dive into the frigidly cold waters without an ounce of hesitation this time around.
“Get her,” Kirill shouts, doubling the length of my strides. “But don’t hurt her. She is with child. My child.”
His possessiveness makes me sick. I can’t be pregnant with his child. I’d know if I was growing the devil’s spawn.
When I round a corner too fast for my skittish legs, I skid into someone coming from the opposite direction.
Regretfully, it belongs to the one person who shouldn’t be here anymore than me.
After taking in my wide, wet eyes and colorless face, Sofia pushes past me and sprints into the opening. When her gut-wrenching scream booms over the lifeless splash of a body being dumped into the ocean, the world crumbles beneath my feet.
I collapse to the floor with a sob, my reality now worse than hell itself.
48
KATIE
“You need to eat.” Kirill’s anger is so apparent half of the tomato soup in the bowl he slides across the table sloshes over its rim and lands on the battered wood wedged between us. “You look unkempt. Like no one cares about you. I won’t fucking have it.”
I wipe away the sneaky tear that falls from my eye when Vera places a grilled cheese sandwich and a jar of prickles next to the cracked soup bowl. It was once my favorite meal.
Not anymore.
“I’m not hungry.” My voice sounds robotic. It matches my aura to a T. I am on autopilot mode. Breathing, sleeping, and occasionally eating, but not living.
I am dead on the inside.
“I didn’t fucking ask if you were hungry,” Kirill roars. The vibrations of his voice could have rattled my heart out of my chest if it was still there.
I am empty—both heartless and soulless.