Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
“Fuck off!” I snarled, wrapping my arm around my broken ribs, choking on tears I refused to shed. “Go away. I don’t know you. Go harass someone else.”
Don’t let them know I love you.
Please don’t—
Jack tripped. His face flushed white.
The thin-lipped man stepped into him, reading between the curses I threw Jack’s way. “If you know this man, we have questions. Do you know where he’s been staying here? Do you know who’s been employing him? Any help you can provide in these matters—”
“He’s nobody,” I grunted, dripping with agony-induced sweat. “I’ve never seen him before.” Groaning, I snapped, “I need another doctor. Either take me back into the hospital or—”
“We have our own physician. He’ll take care of you and confirm if you’re fit to fly.”
“Fly? He can’t fly anywhere—” Jack moaned, his eyes glittering with sadness. “Look, I’m just a concerned citizen, okay? I’m here to see my, eh, wife, but I can’t stand by and watch you accost an injured man. It’s not right.”
“I suggest you go see your wife, sir, and leave the welfare of this overstayer to us.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Car doors opened and slammed as the men climbed into the SUV. Two sat beside me, one in the middle and another on his left, leaving me to stare at Jack through the window.
He shook his head.
He raised his hand.
I closed my eyes as I was driven horribly away from him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
*
Nerida
AGE: 20 YRS OLD
*
(Love in Swedish: Kärlek)
THE QUIET KNOCK ON THE FRONT DOOR ripped me from the couch where I’d been sitting beside Mum. Hope bloomed. Relief swelled. I practically skipped to the door.
My temper toward Dad faded now he was back.
I’d cursed his name for leaving me behind.
How could he?
How could he be so sneaky to wait until I’d been unable to ignore the urge to pee any longer and then driven off the moment I went to the bathroom? He knew I wanted to be there to pick Aslan up. He knew I needed to be there.
He’d practically had to carry me out of the damn hospital to get me home, let alone forbid me from returning.
He’d betrayed me.
Hurt me.
But everything was okay now.
Because he’s back.
Aslan is home.
My heart squeezed. My lips twitched into a smile.
I ripped open the door. “Aslan—” The name of my forever after and soulmate died on my tongue as I blinked at only one man on the threshold.
All it took was for my eyes to meet my dad’s.
A single second to sink into the sorrow pooling there and the regret scratched into his face.
And I knew.
No...
A vortex appeared beneath me, sucking me to the floor.
Guilt snatched me up.
Horror sucked me down.
I collapsed.
My heart stopped.
My ears rang as Dad kneeled before me. Mum charged from the couch. Their arms wrapped around me as I rocked.
Just rocked.
I rocked and pulverised.
No tears.
No screams.
Just silence.
Aching, breaking silence in my chest, my soul, my heart.
No...
He can’t.
This can’t be...
No.
I’m sorry.
So sorry.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault!
“I’m so sorry, Nerida.” Dad’s voice came from a long, dark tunnel. “I tried to stop them. They took him, but we’ll get him back. I promise.”
“How, Jack?” Mum cried. “How the hell do we get him back now he’s in their hands?”
“I don’t know, Anna,” Dad choked. “I just know we have to try.”
My eyes burned with vinegar.
My insides corroded with acid.
Aslan...
Shoving my parents away, I tripped to my feet and stumbled toward my bedroom.
The apartment mocked me.
The kitchen Aslan had installed.
The bathroom he’d renovated.
The lab he’d set up for me.
The bedroom where he’d loved me—
I bit my fist as a bulldozing sob ripped up my throat. I crashed against the wall. I slithered down it. I shook. I shivered. I stared at our bed where only yesterday Aslan had touched me, fucked me, and given me the best birthday I could’ve imagined.
My tattoo gleamed on my arm.
He’s gone.
A keening noise escaped me.
Because of me.
A whimper crawled up my throat.
They’ve taken him.
He’ll die...
Mum and Dad appeared on the threshold of my bedroom, hovering in the corridor as if unwilling to step into the sanctity of my sea-wedded marriage bed.
The dissociation when I’d watched Aslan being flung through the sky by a shitty red Mazda found me again, tugging me blessedly free.
I sank into it.
I didn’t fight it.
I couldn’t survive the grief and guilt whirlpooling around my legs.
I didn’t have time to grieve when Aslan was still here. In Australia. Safe.
I’m going to keep him that way.
Bottling it up.
Swallowing it down.
I ignored my debilitating despair.
Launching to my feet, I snatched my phone out of my yoga leggings pocket. Tripping forward, I sat on our bed and prepared to go to war.
My fault...
“Neri...sweetie, a-are you okay?” Mum asked, drifting forward warily.
I ignored her and pressed the contact number for immigration.
Holding my phone to my ear, I looked up as it rang.
Dad frowned for a moment before understanding. “You’re calling immigration?”