Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Carver leans through his window and enters the code for the gate and as Grayson slips through the opening, I lean forward in my seat, my breath held in anticipation.
Grayson slows as he approaches the heap and I don’t miss the way that Carver draws his gun, ready to shoot in case this is some kind of threat, but when Grayson begins to crouch down and reaches for the heap, I realize that this couldn’t be a threat. There’s no way in hell that he would willingly make himself vulnerable by crouching down like that if he thought there was even a slight chance that the heap was going to attack.
His fingers curl around something and he pulls it back, letting the heap roll back toward him and as it does, I realize that Carver was right—it is a person, but what the fuck are they doing crumpled up in a heap in front of the Ravenwood Estate?
Carver’s headlights shine on Grayson’s face and although he’s a little far away, I don’t miss the slight hint of surprise that flashes through his eyes. “Fuck,” Grayson calls, looking up at the Escalade. “It’s Ember. She’s been beaten.”
A gasp sails out of me and I find myself climbing across King’s lap and barreling for the door handle, despite the fact that the boys were all getting out as well. I guess that while I’ve learned a bit of patience over the past few months, I clearly haven’t perfected that skill.
My feet hit the ground and I hurry through the gate, dropping to my knees beside Ember’s face. The boys all move in beside me and I look down at her in horror. She’s barely recognizable, and although we certainly have our differences, my chest begins to ache. “What the hell,” I murmur to myself in disbelief, taking in her swollen eyes and the dried blood matted in her hair. There are trail marks down her face where her tears rolled down her cheeks, dark bruises, and deep cuts. “Is she alive?”
Grayson nods. “Barely,” he mutters, his tone dark and thoughtful. “But she won’t be if she stays out here much longer.”
Fuck.
The guys all look up at me as a million thoughts flow through my mind, but it’s King’s voice I hear through the dark. “It’s your call, babe. We can turn away and pretend that we didn’t see a damn thing. She’ll die and the threat will die along with her. Or, you can save her and risk that when she gets better, she will go straight back to plotting to end your life.”
I clench my jaw as my gaze falls back down to her, absolutely hating that the guys have left this decision up to me. Those fucking pricks. It’s times like this that I need them to take the power out of my hands. They should decide because if I make the wrong decision, it could come back and haunt me, and I’ve already got enough regrets weighing me down.
“Shit,” I sigh, looking up at the boys again. “What should I do?”
Carver scoffs. “I know what I would do.”
I roll my eyes and look at Cruz, already knowing the right decision, but struggling with actually making the call. “It’s okay to want to save her,” Cruz tells me. “It doesn’t make you weak, and it sure as fuck doesn’t make you a pushover. Being able to offer mercy to your enemies shows a kind of strength that none of us were ever gifted with. Besides babe, if you walked away right now, would you be able to live with yourself?”
My gaze travels over Ember’s swollen eyes and I follow the bloodied curve of her face down past her chin and over her distorted body. There’s no doubt that she has a few broken bones and although she’s passed the fuck out, her body would be in the worst kind of agony.
I let out a breath and stand before turning my back and walking toward the Escalade. “Put her in the trunk.”
The boys comply and within moments, Ember’s broken and bruised body is being shoved into the back of the Escalade. King and Cruz climb in beside me on the backseat while Grayson gets back in the front. Carver takes his time, closing the trunk and getting back in, but instead of hitting the gas and getting on with it, he pauses and meets my gaze through the rearview mirror. “Hospital or here?”
My brows furrow and I go to rush out with the obvious answer when it hits me. If we drop her off at the hospital, we might not get a chance to ask her what the fuck is going down, but if she were at my place and feeling gratitude for saving her life, we just might be able to get exactly what we need out of her.