Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Just the thought of that almost makes my stomach flip.
“Are you sure?” I ask, swiftly stuffing all the supplies back into the bag, which I throw over my shoulder.
As he gets up, he wobbles a little, and I quickly shove my arm and neck underneath his shoulder for support.
“What are you doing?” he growls.
“Helping you,” I say, but he flips my arm right off him again.
He saunters forward and says, “I don’t need help.”
I traipse behind him, watching him struggle as he continues to walk through the woods, refusing to give up. It’s admirable but foolishly stubborn at the same time.
“Why won’t you just let me help you?” I follow him, even though I have no clue where he’s going.
Suddenly, he falls on one of the small rocks lying on the ground, and I hurry to his side. However, the second I touch him, he shoves me aside.
“Don’t.”
I frown. “Okay. Geez. I was only trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask for help!” he yells in a way that reminds me of an injured lion licking its wounds. “Besides, I’m fine.”
I step back and watch him as he tries to recover.
“You don’t look fine to me. You were bleeding. And your body looks pretty beaten up. But it’s fine if you don’t want my help,” I quip, folding my arms.
“Why would you want to help me?” he asks.
“Because … that’s what you’re supposed to do. Help those who need help. And you couldn’t take care of that wound by yourself.”
He glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m the bad guy.”
He’s right, but I swallow my pride. “Even bad guys deserve help.”
I won’t change my stance. Even if it means I’m still not free, at least I’ll be a good person who did a good deed. Someone who doesn’t let others die.
He gets up on two feet again but waits and sighs out loud. “I’m sorry.”
It’s not often those words come from his mouth.
Which means they carry a heavier weight to them.
And it makes it impossible to ignore.
I step closer and place my arm underneath his again, carrying a little bit of his weight. Even if I can’t do much, I can at least help him walk around … if he’ll let me.
“Thank you,” he says, and it makes me blush.
“Thank me when we get to a safe spot,” I reply. “Where to?”
He points to the north, not far in the distance. “There’s another cabin there.”
I drag him along with me in the direction he pointed, which was opposite of where I ran.
“How do you know where all these cabins are?” I ask.
“I saw it from the mountain top.”
“Oh.” And here I was thinking he knew every corner of this forest by memory.
“What, you think I know every inch of these woods?”
I shrug and raise my brows. “You could have. I don’t know what you do every day.”
He laughs but stops midway, clenching his ribs. “Just because I remembered one doesn’t mean I know everything.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. So you don’t spend the entire day in the forest. Got it.”
“No,” he replies. “You know where I spend my time.”
When our eyes briefly connect, a chill runs up and down my spine.
He’s right about that. The dungeon in the house is his home. Torturing people for their sins is what he does best. And I must never forget.
The connection breaks as we reach the wooden cabin. There are no lights turned on and no people outside. I peer through the window, but there’s no movement at all.
“Did you kill the people who live here too?” I ask.
“No. I don’t know this place,” he responds. “C’mon.”
He treads forward, even though I’m hesitant. My heart beats out of my chest.
“What if people live here?”
“This far out in the woods?” he retorts.
“Well … they could.”
We walk up to the door, and I peer through the window again but still don’t see a soul. “What do we do if there are people? Ask them nicely if we can rest because you got mauled by a bear?”
He narrows his eyes. “Or I kill them.”
My pupils dilate.
Fuck no. He isn’t actually considering that option, is he?
“Please, don’t,” I say.
He snorts. “Do I look like a savage?”
I frown, confused why he’d ask.
He locks his arm in place behind my neck and pulls me closer to whisper into my ear, “Relax. It’s a joke.”
When he pulls back and looks me dead in the eyes, I don’t know whether to burst out into laughter or punch him in the face. Or both.
Yet my body can only respond with a blush from the mere sight of his blue eyes homing in on mine.
Typical.
I sigh out loud and knock on the door to break the spell.
Only one way to find out if someone lives here.
A very anxious minute passes, and nothing happens, so I knock again.