Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
He kills out of necessity.
He does the unthinkable because the weight of his family’s survival rests solely on his shoulders. And right now, he’s reacting to a threat. He’s protecting the people he cares about, and in this case, he’s out there protecting me.
Without him here right now, I’d surely already be dead.
I watch the very moment Killian disappears into the thick bushes at the very edge of the property line, the very bushes he warned me not to go running in, and I suck in a gasp. Fear booms through my veins, paralyzing me with every ferocious beat of my racing heart.
How can Krista stand by so calmly while he puts his life at risk? He could die at any moment, and the last proper thing I said to him was that I could never love a man like him.
Tears fill my eyes as my hands begin to shake. None of this is okay.
“He’s going to be alright,” Krista soothes, moving in beside me and latching on to my hand. She squeezes it tightly as her gaze remains locked on the same damn screen. “Killian knows what he’s doing. He was trained to be the best.”
The mere seconds feel like hours when I finally see Killian emerge from the thick bushes, his men dragging a man behind them. They stand just outside the bushes when they shove him to his knees in front of Killian.
There’s no sound on the screen, but it’s clear they’re having a heated conversation, and judging by Killian’s stance, he’s pissed. The gunman obviously isn’t giving him the answers he’s looking for, and when his gaze shifts upward and he says something to his head of security, the gunman panics and launches to his feet.
I suck in a gasp, horror booming through my chest, and before a scream can even tear from the back of my throat, the hitman snatches a gun from the holster of one of the younger guards, shoves the tip to the bottom of his chin, and pulls the trigger.
Horror consumes me, and I watch as the gunman falls lifelessly to the ground—a portion of his skull no longer intact—and if I thought Killian was pissed before, now he’s filled with rage.
“What—what just happened?” I ask, my heart booming so fast, it hurts.
“He chose imminent death over the brutality of Killian’s interrogation,” Krista explains. “And believe me, it was the wisest move he’s made all day. Nobody comes out of interrogation without deep scars.”
A shiver sails down my spine and I watch as Killian reprimands his security for allowing the hitman close enough to take his gun. And with that, he turns and stalks back toward the house. It’s not long before he walks right out of frame, and for a moment, I’m filled with overwhelming heaviness.
Is this really what he has to deal with on the daily? No wonder his heart is so full of darkness. Had that been anyone else who had to deal with that, they’d be in therapy for years, but not Killian. He shakes it off as though the trauma will somehow make him stronger.
There’s a sound at the door of the safe room, and as the mechanical locks release, the door opens wide, revealing Killian framed by the sunlight streaming in through the broken kitchen window. His dark eyes immediately come to mine, locking onto me like a hunter seeking his prey, and before I know it, I’m sprinting across the safe room.
I fly into his arms, crushing my face against his chest and inhaling that deep woodsy scent. His strong arms close around me, holding me tight enough to leave bruises across my ribs, but I don’t dare pull away or complain.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur against his wide chest as he scoops me up and walks us out of the safe room and back through to the kitchen.
He places me down on the counter, stepping into me as he takes my chin and tips it up to meet my stare. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel,” he tells me as his gaze sails across my face. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just . . . I hated seeing you run out there. You risked your life to protect me.”
“A man came onto my property to launch an attack on my wife. What did you expect me to do? Let him have you?”
“No, of course not,” I say, reaching up and cupping both sides of his face in my hands, sensing the fire burning within him and watching it slowly fade. “Seeing you like that . . . I was wrong to tell you that I could never love you. I misjudged you without giving you the chance to explain, and I hate that something could have happened to you and the last thing you would have remembered of me was being a bitch to you for the past few days.”