Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
She hadn’t cried in a very, very long time. Only, she couldn’t seem to stop these tears.
They fell thick, fast, and she gritted her teeth, angry at herself for even caring that no one had given a single fuck about her in all of her life.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you’d release me. Let me go. Instead, I’m still chained to a fucking chair.” She started to wriggle with more force. “Let me go. Let me out.”
She screamed until her voice was hoarse.
Landon didn’t leave. He didn’t untie her.
He simply watched her.
“I hate you. You know that? I hate you and your family.”
“I know.”
“Ugh, stop being so agreeable. It sucks. Do you know that? It sucks to watch you. To see you. I hate all of this.” She kept on spewing vile words she didn’t even mean, but she couldn’t help it. Hearing him, seeing him, it was a sick and twisted reminder that she was nothing more than second best.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
She watched him walk to the corner and drag a bucket beneath her chair.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she asked.
“It is what it is.”
She gritted her teeth. Hatred filled her. She shook her head. “If you loved someone, you wouldn’t do this to them.”
“I have no reason to believe you wouldn’t escape.”
She laughed. “As much as I’d love to run away from you right now, where exactly would I go? I have no identification. No passport. I don’t know how your uncle got me into this country, but I’m nothing. I have no money. I’m all alone, again. I shouldn’t be surprised. Running from you, I’d go back to your uncle’s. Great plan, they would just send me back here to you. Believe me, not a great plan. I may be angry and I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to punch you in the face, but I’m not stupid either.”
“You can punch me if you want.”
“I’m going to give it a try but not when you expect it.”
He watched her again.
His gaze heated her flesh, making her think of a whole load of things, stuff she didn’t allow herself to ever consider. She knew what assholes men could be when they wanted a fuck, and she wasn’t going to give in. Not ever.
Once Landon was back with his family, she wanted out of there so fast they wouldn’t know what hit them.
Landon tilted his head from side to side before finally coming toward her. He began to release the binds.
She didn’t charge at him or knock him out. Wrapping her fingers around her wrist, she rubbed the blood back to them. She hated being tied up with no way of escaping. It freaked her the fuck out.
“If you try to leave, I want to remind you I have a bounty on my head.”
“I know.” Maybe she should kill him? No, she wouldn’t make it that easy.
With her legs untied, all that remained was her waist.
She wanted to run for it, but she grabbed the arms of the chair instead. There was no way she’d make it out in this world. As much as it killed her to admit it, she needed Landon to protect her. To keep her safe until he got her home.
Landon took her hands and it was her first instinct to pull away, which she did.
His gaze landed on her hand then on her face.
“You don’t have to restrain me.”
“I wasn’t restraining you. I …” His brows drew together, his lips pursed.
“You what?”
“I know you think this is all bullshit and I accept that, but I still need to hold your hand. I want to.”
“Seriously? I’m going to piss myself because you want to hold my hand?”
“Don’t judge me.”
“It’s kind of hard not to.” She smiled. “No one has ever held my hand before.” She rubbed at her temple. “This is weird. You know that?”
“Yep, but I can’t do anything about it. I just have to accept that I’m weird.”
She released a breath. “Fine. We’re both weird. Let’s do this.”
She held her hand out and he didn’t even hesitate. He took hold of her hand. His grip was firm, tight, comforting.
He led her out of the room. He changed the position of his hand so their fingers were locked tight together.
“What was it like to kill your parents?” she asked.
He took them up some creaking staircase. The scent of death hung heavy in the air. The house was old and in desperate need of repair. Most of the paint had peeled off the walls. She’d seen horrible places and had even slept in some of them. The worst was being on the street, but when you consider rape a better alternative, you know your life is fucked.
He stopped at a door that looked nicer, cleaner than the other rooms. The door was white with a few cracks in the wood.