Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.
“She’s fucking seeing shit she shouldn’t see, fucking lock her up, Jagger, or I will,” Snake warns.
Jagger turns and, without warning, slams his fist into Snake’s mouth. The man stumbles backward, and I stop fighting Angel to stare in utter horror as he falls onto the ground and into a pool of the dead man’s blood.
“If you fuckin’ order me around once more, Snake, I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Jagger seethes.
“You’re fuckin’ weak, Jagger,” Snake bellows from the ground. “She’s made you fuckin’ weak. You’re not fit to lead us any longer. She’s nothin’ but a waste of space. I’ll gut her with my bare fuckin’ hands and get her outta the way so we can get on with it – she’s clouding your judgement.”
Snake’s eyes zone in on me and I stare in horror, my entire body numb, as he pushes to his feet and reaches into his pants to pull out a gun. The entire world feels as though it stops and for just a second, I’m convinced this is it for me. That this is the end. I stare at the man whose cold eyes have promised horrible things since the moment I got here.
I can’t even form words.
He’s going to kill me.
As if in slow motion, Jagger moves, and the knife in his hand plunges into Snake’s chest without second thought. It disappears as if the act didn’t take any effort at all, but the way Jagger’s jaw clenches and his arms flex, tells me it took more effort than I’ll ever understand. The gun falls from Snake’s hand and he drops to his knees, his eyes never leaving mine as he falls forward, his lifeless body slamming into the concrete floor.
“Let me go,” I gasp, my entire body trembling.
“Can’t do that,” Angel mutters.
“Let me go,” I scream so loudly the man behind me jerks.
Jagger nods, short and sharp, and Angel lets me go. I turn, and I run. I run as fast as my legs can carry me. I trip three times on the stairs, tears rolling down my cheeks as the images of what just happened play over and over again in my mind. Jagger just killed two people. Two human beings. As if they were nothing more than tiny frail animals. He didn’t even hesitate.
He’s a monster.
I reach the room and slam the door behind me, before running into the bathroom and locking the door, dropping to my knees and letting my head fall forward as sobs wrack my entire body. I can’t make them stop. I’m not sure I even want them to.
I hear the door to the room open, and then a few seconds later the pounding of a fist and Jagger’s roaring voice demanding that I open the door. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. More pounding, and then a bigger sound, a larger sound. He’s kicking the door. A few kicks later and the door flies open and Jagger steps in. I lift my tear-soaked face and see him standing, staring down at me. He’s covered in blood, and I flinch away when he reaches for me.
“Don’t touch me.”
His jaw tightens. “You shouldn’t have been down here.”
“You ... you ... you just killed that man. You killed him. You just ... killed him. And then Snake ...”
“That man is a sick fuckin’ rapist and part of the gang that could have taken you, but didn’t. That man was looking for you, and would have had no problems in raping you while they figured out what to do with you. As for Snake, he lost his place, and with that, means you lose your place in this world, too.”
“You’re a monster,” I whisper, pushing to my feet. “You need to let me go. Let me leave. I can’t be here anymore.”
I try to shove past him, but he grips me and pulls me against him, his arms so tight I can barely move. Blood smears over my arms and body, and I lose it, it’s just too much. I start hitting him, punching him over and over with my tiny fists. He releases me, shocked, and I turn and practically dive into the shower, turning it on, fully clothed, needing to get this blood off. Blood from a dead man. Blood. Oh god.
Jagger is behind me in seconds, swinging the door of the shower open, stepping in. He grips my arms and tries to pull me out, his voice rough as he attempts to stop my frantic scrubbing. I scream and kick, cursing and swearing. I tear my clothes off, needing the blood away from my skin. I don’t care that I’m naked. I don’t care. He continues trying to stop me, and I continue to slap him, hit him, punch him, kick him, and anything else I can manage – it doesn’t stop him. He’s soaked now, and his jeans hang limply on his large body. All the blood slowly washes off his skin and is sliding down the drain. He pulls me close, his eyes wild and flaring.