Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
She waited in bed, under the covers, after having turned on a lamp, arms folded over her chest.
He came in, dressed in track pants and nothing else, flicked the ceiling light off, and got into bed with her. “So?” She asked.
His eyes met hers. They were hard, steel-blue.
“Is he dead?” Kyla asked.
Tristan nodded, expression softening, his eyes roving hers searchingly.
Kyla felt hollow. She closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath.
Tristan turned the bedside table’s lamp off.
“You sent me away.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“You would’ve tried to stop me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You would’ve. That’s who you are. That’s not who I am.”
She shivered. She probably would try to make him stop. The second Kyle’s suggestion had come out about making Adrian help Kyla wanted to ask Tristan to reconsider.
“And I don’t want you seeing any more violence. You’ve seen enough. It’s my job to make you happy, to look after you, not to be the source of nightmares for you.”
She scooted down in bed and turned her back to him and closed her eyes, a tear trickling down her cheek.
He leaned over and caught it with his soft lips, “Can I hold you?” he asked against her wet cheek, his breath warming her skin.
She nodded, lower lip trembling.
He spun her to face him and wrapped her up in his arms,
“No fucking one will ever come between you and me again. I will inflict endless violence on anyone that tries to fuck with what we have. Do you hear me? This is non-negotiable, Kyla.”
She nodded, eyes shut tight, cheek against his chest.
“Sleep, princess. I love you.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
After what felt like an eternity, she fell asleep. He was still awake.
~~~
Tristan plunged a dagger into Adrian’s gut and Adrian’s beat up face fell forward.
Was he dead?
Tristan lifted an axe, his lip was curled, his skin was grey, and his eyes were coal black. The axe came down, chopping off Adrian’s right arm at the shoulder. It felt to the ground with a thud and the blood that spurted out was as graphic as in a Tarantino movie. Tristan grabbed the dagger and dragged it upwards to Adrian’s upper gut, below the chest and then yanked it out. Blood spilled from his gut as Tristan watched, chest heaving up and down.
Adrian woke and saw his arm on the ground beside him and started to scream. Tristan punched him in the face over and over and over while Adrian bled out. Adrian’s face had already been punched, a lot by the looks of it, and now it was like his face was caved in. Tristan was covered in blood and he was shouting words that Kyla couldn’t make out at Adrian in a chilling guttural voice. Adrian was crying in agony.
Sam and Sergey were laughing, both behind Tristan. And then Tristan started to laugh.
The laugh died and Tristan’s expression went dark again and then he plunged the dagger back in, making Adrian’s head roll forward until his chin rested on his chest, and then Tristan brought the axe down to cut off his other arm and then pulled the dagger out and Adrian woke again, screaming in pain.
Tristan lifted the axe high over his head and she understood him this time when he said, “Now you can watch me cut off your leg. But before you pass out I’ll dagger you so that you won’t, so that you’ll be frozen and fully lucid, aware of that pain.” and then the axe came down.
Kyla was screaming. And screaming. Tristan was shaking her.
“Kyla, wake up! Wake up, baby! It’s okay…”
She woke and she was off and running out of the room. She was fighting with the lock on the door, and then she was out of the house, running toward the water, frantic.
She stopped when she got to the shore and fell to her knees, out of breath.
The water was warm. It lapped at her knees. She took breath after breath after breath, her fingers dug into the wet dirt in front of her.
Tristan touched her shoulder, “Baby?”
She was sobbing.
“Kyla what was it? Tell me.”
“You cut off his arms. His leg. With an axe. You kept punching him and his head was caved in. And he was screaming. And you tore the knife up his middle and …God. I could barf.”
“C’mon.” He took her wrists and dipped her hands in the water to rinse off the mud and then lifted her up by the waist and put her on her feet, took her hand, and they walked back to the house.
She shivered a little, “I’m gonna get into dry clothes.”
“I’ll put coffee on,” he said quietly.
She washed her hands and face and brushed her teeth and then changed her clothes. When she went back out she found him sitting in the gazebo outside, in track pants, bare-chested, with two cups of coffee on the table. He was staring out at the water.