Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Grayson lets out a loud, relieved sigh, his cheeks blowing out in the process as I notice Carver’s gaze returning to the road. “So, you weren’t about to go down the torture road?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would have still brutally killed him, but no, I wasn’t going to torture him or his wife. I just wanted to scare him, and apparently, it worked a little too well.”
Cruz squeezes my hand. “Okay,” he murmurs, waiting until my gaze swivels back to his. “You’d tell us, right? If you were heading down that path?”
I watch Cruz for a silent, drawn-out moment, focusing on the intense concern in his eyes. “What’s going on Cruz?” I question, sitting up a little straighter and pulling out of King’s arms. “Why are you so worried about this?”
“Because there’s a fine line between someone who kills out of obligation and someone who does it out of need, and right now, you’ve got me worried that you’re toeing that line. And fuck babe, once you cross to that side, it’s really fucking hard to come back.”
I watch him for a second longer, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s speaking from experience or if there’s something more that Cruz and I need to speak about in private. His eyes harden, silently telling me that it’s not up for discussion. So instead, I swing my stare toward the front seat of the Escalade, flicking it between Carver and Grayson. “You mean, like them?” I ask Cruz, slicing my gaze back to his, knowing that while he might be talking about his own experience, that the two alphaholes in the front seat are the perfect example of men who have crossed that line and never came back. “Would that really be so bad?”
Carver’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Winter. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles through the Escalade as he pulls into the school parking lot, instantly darkening the mood inside the car. “This life is fucking heavy. I’m constantly in a world filled with darkness. There’s no light here, no calm from the demons living inside my head. I don’t want that for you, and you sure as fuck shouldn’t want that for yourself. The thoughts inside my head … fuck, Winter. If you even got a glimpse of what it’s like to fall off the edge, you’d be running for your fucking life.”
Silence falls throughout the cab and I’m left with way too many thoughts, but when Carver brings the car to a stop in his usual spot, a sense of dread fills me and all the heavy thoughts fade to the back. I don’t want to be here. Don’t get me wrong, spending the day with Ember is never a bad thing, but sitting in a class and doing schoolwork in order to graduate while someone out there is plotting my death just seems like a colossal waste of time.
I should be out there trying to catch the slimy bastards, trying to save my life and give the boys peace of mind that I can walk the street without someone jumping out to attack me.
The whole situation is absurd. Why did I have to be the heir to a society who gets off on death, corruption, power, and secrets? Fuck me. I must have done something terrible in another life.
Is it so much to ask to be able to live an easy, happy life with the four boys?
“Come on,” King says, swinging his door open and climbing out of the Escalade, wanting to get out of the dark, gloomy mood that consumes the car. “Let’s get this over and done with so I can get you back home where it’s safe.”
I roll my eyes and pull my hand out of Cruz’s while he opens his door and jumps out without a backward glance. “Why don’t you just take me back home where it’s safe now? We can spend the day naked in bed,” I comment, hoping the idea is enticing enough to ditch Carver and his mood, steal his car, and drive my ass back home where I can spend the day consumed by the sweetest type of pleasure.
King groans as I scoot out behind him, knowing damn well that it was a long shot. He takes my hand and helps me down from the Escalade, not trusting me to jump—probably assuming that I’ll either fall and wind myself or somehow get shot, blown-up, or kidnapped in the process. After all, getting screwed over by the world seems to be my specialty.
I safely get my ass to the ground, and I don’t miss how Carver watches my every single movement. It’s been three weeks, and he’s still torn up about the whole shooting me thing. He puts on a good act for everyone else, but I see the regret in his eyes, and every time I do, it tears me up inside. I wish I could take away his pain, but he’s intent on letting it consume him.