Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
I can’t bring myself to be horrified at the cold-blooded murder of the merc. I don’t even think I’m capable of guilt anymore. If I could cry happy tears at seeing Seth again, I would.
He’s okay.
Maybe the bullet only grazed him, or perhaps he was only pretending to be hurt so he could gain the upper hand.
Seth definitely has it now.
I can tell by the way these “hardened” mercenaries are scrambling for their weapons. I can tell by the way Finnegan removes his hand from my back to grab my arm in a tight hold instead. He brings me in front of him to use me as a human shield, and I let him because I don’t want him to die just yet.
“What the hell are you just standing there for? Kill them!”
“But, sir! Roberts and Sanders!” one of the men reminds their leader. He gets a bullet to the brain, and pandemonium ensues when the rest of the squad realizes it was friendly fire.
Finnegan killed his own man.
It motivates the rest to start shooting.
Realizing there’s no loyalty or brotherhood among their ranks, Khalil and Thorin use the mercs as human shields as they take cover.
Roberts and Sanders are dead by the time Thorin and Khalil take cover behind two of the boulders, leaving only Finnegan and three other mercs alive.
Seth has also taken cover, but only after Thorin shouts at him to get down.
Khalil raises his head to return fire, and he’s so focused on dropping the others that he doesn’t notice Finnegan drawing his handgun.
The wolf Thorin sees every time he looks at me raises her head, and I grab Finnegan’s arm with both hands. Lunging forward, I sink my teeth into his wrist.
“Aaaaargh! You fucking bitch!”
Finnegan starts shaking me around like a rag doll, trying to turn me loose, but I don’t let go—not even when his skin gives, and I taste blood. And not when I remember how close we are to the precarious ledge.
We could both fall, but at least Khalil will be safe.
Finnegan finally gets desperate and punches my temple hard enough to make me see stars. I drop to the ground while the shooting continues, and I curse Finnegan for tossing my bow.
He kept my axe, though.
It’s currently hooked to a D-clip on his back.
When he tries to grab me, I spit my mouth full of his blood in his face, and it stuns him long enough for me to lunge for his gun. Finnegan recovers the moment I grab it, and our struggle for control of the gun ends with us both tipping over the edge of the cliff.
“Aureliaaaaa!” one of my guys screams.
Khalil, I think.
He must have seen me go over.
My heart stops when I see the sharp rocks below rushing up to meet me, but then my next breath punches out of me when the ground reaches me much sooner than expected, and I slam chest first onto the hard surface.
The first thing I notice is that I’m not dead.
Unfortunately, neither is Finnegan.
He’s hanging onto the tiny ledge protruding from the cliff face with one hand clinging to the missing chunk in the rock while the other dangles unseen next to his body.
“Wow, you’re really strong. You must work out a lot. I’m guessing you can hold that just long enough to answer my questions, and then I’ll think about letting you up. What do you say?”
“I’m all ears, Aurelia.”
“You said my uncle wanted it to look like an accident.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Exactly what did he hire you to do?”
“To find your body and bring it home for burial, and believe me, princess. He spared no expense.”
But even if Finnegan hadn’t already tried to push me off the cliff, I would have smelled the bullshit. My uncle has never been particularly religious or sentimental. There’s no way he would have gone through all of this trouble for a funeral if there wasn’t something in it for him.
“And what were your orders if you found me alive?”
Finnegan isn’t quick to answer, and I can see by the distant look that flashes in his eyes that he’s weighing his chances between lying and honesty.
I’d say he has fifty-fifty odds.
Realizing the same, Finnegan chooses the honest route, and while his answer doesn’t surprise me, my non-reaction to it most certainly does.
“My orders were to bring back your body. It didn’t matter if your soul was still attached to it when I found you.”
I’m still processing that my uncle wants me dead—even if I suspected it a time or two this past year—so when Finnegan raises the hand that’s not holding the cliff, I’m caught off guard in more ways than one. There’s a gun pointed at me now.
What a fucking idiot.
“Not so fast, Finnegan. This one is for all the marbles…” Finnegan’s curiosity wins out, and he keeps his finger off the trigger. Bad kitty. “When did my uncle hire you to kill me?” I know by his minute pause that he wasn’t expecting me to ask that question. My gaze narrows, and he widens in return. “When did…my fucking uncle…hire you…to kill me?”