Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
I lower my hands from in front of my face as the idea sinks in. It doesn’t sound half bad. Lucas needs to figure out once and for all that I don’t want anything to do with him, and nobody knows better than me how scary Callum can be when he puts his mind to it.
So why is there a red flag waving in the back of my head? Something about the idea is all wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Until our eyes meet, his shining with hatred and murderous intent. That’s when I get it.
I push the wheeled chair backward away from him. “How do you know that?” I whisper.
“Know what? Where are you—”
“Lucas.” My legs are watery, but I force myself to stand. “How did you know he gave me that picture? What are you hiding?”
He stands, his eyes never leaving me. Eyes now burning with the sort of intensity I’ve seen before. Intensity that doesn’t usually mean anything good. “Let me explain myself.”
“What is there to explain?” The panic building in my head makes it tough to think straight. He was following me. Spying. “Why were you even there? How did you know exactly where I was going to be when I didn’t give you an address?” Every question leads to another until it isn’t only panic threatening to break me.
It’s outrage.
“Would you take a breath and let me—”
“No,” I snap, though I regret it when his eyes bulge. He’s breathing hard, barely controlling himself, and all it took was being questioned. Something as simple as that, and he’s ready to explode in rage.
Backing away toward the door, I make up my mind. “I’m signing the lease on that apartment tomorrow. This was all a mistake.”
“Bianca.” He throws his hands into the air, hands I’m afraid of again. He was stalking me. “What? You thought I was going to let you live just anywhere? If you’re this determined to live on your own, I could afford a much nicer place in a guarded building. I followed you from work, big deal. You can’t expect me to sit back and let you march into trouble.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve imagined living in a cage, is it? I didn’t realize how right I was.
Now, I see it all. “You’re just as bad as my father. Trying to control every part of my life.” It’s hard to breathe once the full weight of this sits on my chest. I’ve exchanged one cage for another.
He’s never going to see me as my own person, someone able to make my own choices. I will always have to follow his rules, always knowing there’s a chance he’s watching. Judging. Waiting to punish me for going against him.
I won’t live that way.
“Bianca!” he shouts when I take off, running from the room and down the hall. I don’t even know what I’m doing—it’s not like I have a plan in place. I only know I need to get away and stay away. It doesn’t matter that I still want him, and the idea of being without him is torture. My head’s all screwed up, thanks to my body being weak for him. It’s pathetic, and I will not let it rule me anymore.
“You will not leave this house!” He’s close, running behind me, and it’s sheer terror that makes me sprint madly for Tatum’s wing. “Bianca, get back here! Where do you think you’re going?”
Away from you. Anywhere but here. I slam the door to her wing and lock it before fleeing for the bedroom. I don’t even need that much. I’m in such a blind panic, so desperate to leave, I should’ve run straight for the car instead. I’m not exactly thinking clearly.
I lock the bedroom door, too, and hope he doesn’t get it into his head to stay out there and essentially block me in while I yank a bag from the closet. My laptop, my essentials. I throw them in at random with hands that shake at the thought of how furious he is. I shouldn’t have announced that I was leaving. When will I ever learn?
“Bianca!” His pounding on the door pulls a broken, breathless sob from my chest. I’m not going to let him scare me out of this. I refuse. No matter how hard he pounds, so hard, I’m afraid he’ll punch his way through the thick wood while I zip up my bag.
My head swings back and forth. The idea of an escape is the only thing that matters now. Could I make it out the window?
Oh, my god. Did I actually consider that?
I spin around from the window and bark out a scream when, all at once, the door flies inward, thanks to the way Callum kicked it open. He looms large in the doorway, his hands in fists at his sides and his broad shoulders heaving while he glares hatefully at me.