Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Fallen leaves crunch under my feet as I zip through the tree trunks and jump over old fallen branches. The air zips into my lungs like icicles from a cool winter day and the fog mists out of my mouth like smooth smoke from a cigar. Why am I running? Who am I running from? All I know is that I need to run. Jumping over a moss-covered log, I stop running, breathing in and out heavily. A wall of glass drops down in front of me, displaying my own reflection. It’s peering back at me like an empty lost part of who I am. Cocking my head, I stare deep into my eyes, sinking into my own thoughts. My reflection stills and I step back, but my reflection remains the same, unmoving, frozen in time. Chills break out over my body as my eyes in the mirror begin to turn a light grey, dead, lifeless. Seconds pass before dark black lines begin to crack over my flesh in the mirror.
“Holy shit!” I gasp, stepping backward and covering my mouth with my hand. My chest starts to feel thick when suddenly I’m robbed of air. My throat feels as though a brick has been shoved inside of it, so I squeeze, hoping to rip out whatever it is that’s stopping me from breathing. My face swells and veins pop out of my head. As I’m about to collapse to the ground, bats fly out of my mouth in a loud squeak just as the mirror bursts and shards of the broken glass go flying over my skin, slicing me into pieces.
Sweat drips off my skin as I shoot up from the floor in a panic. What the fuck was that? Looking around the room, I notice I’m still in my apartment, my bedroom door slightly ajar. Rubbing my hands over my sweat-soaked flesh, a range of goosebumps break out all over me. I bend down, picking up my fallen handbag and suitcase. Whatever that was sent chills down my spine. Speeding up to a slight jog, I head toward the front door, pull it open and rush out the foyer until the cool breeze washes over my face. I don’t know what the fuck that was. Too many weird things are going on in my life right now that I don’t know how to comprehend them all at once. Devon going cold on me, Bryant being Wolf, and then whatever that dream was. Nothing’s adding up and everything is starting to feel too overwhelming. “Isa!” Jerry runs up behind me with three other MIB’s following closely.
“Sorry.” I pause. “I swear,” I look around nervously, my head still pounding, “I swear I wasn’t trying to run.”
Jerry looks at me closely, I see the way his eyes run over every inch of my body, checking to see that I’m not visibly hurt. Nope. Just a little fucking freaked out. “All right.” Then he looks to another MIB. “Go and get the car.” Before he takes hold of my arm and ushers me outside.
We’re waiting for the car when my phone vibrates in my pocket, I quickly slip it out and answer.
“Hello?” I say breathlessly, moving my unruly dark hair out of my face and slipping into the backseat of the SUV.
“Isa? Have you been running, are you okay?” Step-mother dearest. I calm my breathing, closing my eyes. Of course she would think me running would be something totally out of the blue. I don’t run, and if I am running, you should probably run too because that means something is chasing me.
“Yes, I’m fine, what can I do for you, Lydia?” We pull away from the curve after Jerry gets in beside me, and I crank down the window, attempting to dry off the excess sweat I still have trickling down the side of my face.
“Well… your father wanted to know how your night with Bryant Royal went…”
I scoff. Scoff. Flat out could not help the ridiculous scoff that escapes my mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, so why didn’t he call me himself?” I rest the phone on my shoulder and lean forward toward the driver. “Bryant’s place, please.” Then I lean back in my seat. “Tell him it was fine. Bryant and I have known each other for some time so we’re picking up where we left off—why?” A terrible lie, but if my family isn’t going to believe that I’m about to marry Bryant, it will only work if they think we’ve known each other for a while.
“Well…”
“Lydia, stop saying well and cut to the point.”
“It’s just… your father would really appreciate your cooperation in what Bryant may or may not ask you.” I sigh, massaging my temples with my fingertips. Seems Bryant has already beaten me to it, though I should applaud him for his brilliant swerve in working my parents. Of course going this route would work better. This way it will make my father feel important.