Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
But I have my brothers to look after, and consequences to suffer.
At one point, Sebastian was like the older brother I never had. And when he came here to see the safe house last year, I thought he’d stay. I should have known better. The world changed when he left, becoming darker, colder, and he didn’t want it for Chloe.
I knew I was descending deeper and deeper into the pits of hell, a misery of my own making, when I watched them drive away. He said he’d be back, but it’s been roughly a year. A year of messaging off and on. And a year that’s changed everything.
I don’t care what I said before. I want to come back, Carter. You need my help.
Aria
It takes a long time for me to move from where Carter’s left me. Daniel comes to check on me, to tell me Addison’s in the study if I want company. He’s not nearly as soft toward me as he was back at the safe house. I appreciate it either way though.
The thought of facing Addison though, knowing how she has Daniel and I don’t have Carter… I can’t take it right now.
Jase comes by again, although he doesn’t speak. He only squeezes my shoulders and offers me a weak smile that I return with a shake of my head.
Even Declan comes by and tells me he’ll make me something to eat if I want, but I know I would throw it up if I could even manage to take a bite of anything at all.
It takes me a long, long time before I start walking down to Carter’s wing. The idea of staying in the hideaway room offers a small bit of comfort. I could be alone and break down where the only person who would see is Carter, if he bothered to check on me.
But I don’t want to hide – even if I do want to be alone. Time is precious and I don’t want to live like this.
I’m halfway to Carter’s bedroom when my pace picks up. His door is closed, and I’m scared it will be locked when I grip the carved glass knob, but it turns easily for me.
Too easily, even.
The savage man I love is standing at his dresser, the whiskey bottle still sealed in front of him. But shattered glass scatters moonlight around the room as the curtains sway from the air blowing through the vents, letting in glimpses of the light.
It looks as if he must’ve slammed the glass down too hard and with another step into the room, my eyes assessing his hand as I close the door behind me, I can see the cuts that line his skin.
From the glass, or from earlier today, I’m not sure. Maybe the mixture of wounds is from both. The reminder he’s killed men today, men who may have protected me in the past, men who I’ve had dinner with, men who have fought for my father for years, settles an eerie chill in my bones as the door clicks shut and Carter’s dark eyes peer back at me from over his shoulder.
There’s a slam of fear in my chest, but it’s gone quickly as Carter turns his head forward again toward the bottle, not even bothering to look at me for more than that split second.
And then I’m given more silence.
In that moment, I almost turn and walk away. I almost run out of the room. Almost… but I don’t. I have a voice, and I’m going to use it.
“I’m not going to stay here as a prisoner. If you don’t want me, I’m leaving.” I don’t know how I manage to say the words so clearly, but I do. I hold on to that small accomplishment as Carter answers me.
“I have a right to be angry.” There’s no menace in his voice at all. Merely truth.
“You don’t have a right to treat me like I’m nothing,” I dare to respond with a harshly spoken whisper.
“Did it even cross your mind that maybe I was dead?” he asks, slowly turning to face me. His eyes are tired and his voice wretched.
“Yes,” I answer him quickly as my breathing catches in my chest, remembering all the worry the gunshots crying out in the night brought me.
“And what did that do to you?”
“It made me angry… angry that you didn’t call.” I swallow thickly, remembering how I held the phone. “I messaged you and you didn’t bother to give me any sign at all that you were all right or that you cared.” I confess a raw truth, baring more of myself to him, “And it hurt in every way possible. Every piece of me went numb thinking you were out there… that you were gone like Eli was.” It feels wrong even speaking of Eli right now. His memory should be honored and not brought up like this.