Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
They were going to pay for everything they ever fucking put me through…I would make them hurt. I’d make them feel like they had me right where they wanted me. Did they know I remembered everything from the past week? Them stripping me naked.
Malyk cutting me.
Dion’s lips between my thighs.
Sparrow’s praise when I’d do what he wanted.
Whatever drug they gave me didn’t do what they thought it would.
And now they would pay. They would pay for it all.
I reached for my phone first, ignoring the stabbing pain in my muscles. Fatigue wasn’t a strong enough word. I found the number instantly, knowing what was coming.
“I thought this day would never come.”
I thought his voice would be different. Older. Scarier. We all knew he was, but no one had ever lived to say they’d met him.
“She lied to me. She has been working with them all along.”
“Who, Blaire? Who has?”
“You know who!” I snapped, squeezing my eyes closed. Please don’t make me say her name.
“Your mother. I see. Have they put you through the ritual?”
“No,” I answered, swiping the tears from my eyes. “No, they haven’t. They didn’t get that far. For whatever reason, they pulled back.”
He was silent on the other end.
“Dad?”
“I am still here.” Movement rustled in the background, and I changed ears, afraid I wouldn’t hear his next words. “I may know why they didn’t. I need you to follow their lead until you next hear from me, Shiloh. Whatever they want you to do, do it. What your mother asks you to do, do it. They think they’re ahead of you. Let them think that.”
Fear crashed against my chest. “They’ll kill me.”
“They won’t.”
“How do you know?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the foreign door.
“Because the reason why you’re not dead right now or been put through the ritual is because they know you’re my daughter, and trust me when I say, Shiloh St. Claire, you are in a great position.”
The line went dead.
My muscles ache. I know I have to open my eyes, but I can’t bring myself to move because the first thing I feel is the throbbing in my legs. The fatigue in my bones. It’s a poison that won’t leave. What happened last night? My eyes pop open and I squeeze the sheets that surround my body, groaning when I try to roll out of bed, reaching aimlessly for something. Anything. Hopefully a glass of water to wash down the taste of whatever it is that’s sticking to the back of my throat. My hand collides with a hard object before a loud smash sounds, and I quickly jump. Where my bed is pushed against a wall, leaving no space for a bedside table, I know instantly that this isn’t my room.
Pressing my palms into my eyes, I scrub the sleep away and force them to part. The room is a blur, but I try to blink through it to take in my surroundings.
Oh God…