Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 80249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I’m too afraid now to risk being around someone who doesn’t have control…
Wolf leans down and kisses my forehead and motions to Red. I avoid Diesel’s eyes and I walk away.
I really want tonight over with.
Red and I walk back to my room in silence. That’s nothing new; Red and I never talked much with each other. I try to concentrate on walking and ignoring the moving shadows or that feeling like someone is going to jump out of the darkness and hurt me. That alone is exhausting. There’s a part of me wondering if I will ever feel normal again.
Somehow I doubt it.
We make it to my door and I open it with a heartfelt sigh.
“Thanks, Red.”
“Lock the door behind me, Tor. It’s our club, so you should be safe, but there’s too many unknowns here tonight to be entirely sure.”
“Got it,” I tell him, but I want to laugh. If he only knew how quickly I lock doors and windows these days.
“Good enough. Night, girl,” he says. I close the door on him, lock it and lean against it while I let my knees stop shaking.
A second later I feel the knob move and then hear footsteps walking away.
He checked to make sure I locked the door.
That should make me feel better. Instead, I kind of feel like a prisoner…
Devil
I watch as the man with Torrent walks away. It feels like my damn heart is pounding so hard in my chest it could jump out. I stare at her door, wondering if I truly want to see her. There are a million scenarios running through my head. The urge to turn around and walk out of this damn place is strong and it’s warring with my need to talk to Torrent. I don’t know why I’m even here. It’s obvious that Torrent wasn’t who I thought she was. Diesel’s words come back to me.
That girl is haunted.
I reach out my hand to knock on the door with Diesel’s voice still in my head.
“Who… who is it?”
“It’s me,” I answer, wondering if she will open her door. I don’t have to wait long for the answer as I hear the lock tumbler move with a clicking noise that seems extremely slow and loud.
“You shouldn’t be here, Logan,” she says once the door is opened. She doesn’t open all the way; instead it’s barely enough to peek her head out.
“I was just saying that to myself,” I admit, searching her face. My eyes zero in on the spot Diesel mentioned earlier. She definitely has a bruise, it’s faint and clearly hid by makeup, or at least the majority of it is, but it’s there.
Motherfucker it’s there.
“Then why are you here?” she asks.
“Because I care,” I tell her honestly.
Her eyes widen in shock and her lips separate at my answer—but only for the briefest of seconds and then she wipes the surprise away and it’s like a mask comes over her face.
“You shouldn’t.”
“That’s me. Always doing what I shouldn’t,” I respond. “Are you going to let me in there to talk, or are we doing this out here?”
I ask the question and then watch as her hand comes out and she pushes her fingers in her hair to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. Her eyes look down on the ground and that’s when I see the way her hand is trembling.
“I… I don’t think we should talk, Logan.”
“Are you scared of me, Angel?”
She looks up at me then. Her eyes truly are haunted and seeing the pain in them is gut wrenching.
“I don’t want to be,” she says and her voice drops down to the point that I have to strain to hear it.
“I’d never hurt you, Torrent. Never. I give you my word on that.”
“We don’t really know each other.”
“That’s not true. You know me, Angel. I’ve always given you the real me.”
I watch as she rubs her lips together and swallows down her nerves.
“But… people aren’t always who you think they are, Logan.”
“I’m starting to see that,” I tell her and instantly regret it. Her face closes up. I didn’t mean it as a barb directed at her for lying to me—at least not intentionally.
“It’s late. You should go before—”
“Before your boyfriend finds me?” I ask, my anger getting the better of me.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That cut you’re wearing says differently.”
“Is that why you’re here? To see what he had that you didn’t?” she asks, and for some reason I love what she said. This shows signs—the first signs—of the Torrent I know. The Torrent who… I still want.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Angel. You left me months ago. I’m not looking to pick back up.”
“You’re not?” she asks.
“Hell, no,” I tell her and I’m pretty sure I’m not completely lying. My attraction to her is not the only reason I’m here.