Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
My mouth fills with salt and that’s when I realize a tear slipped in my mouth.
“What are you looking at?”
The cup in my hand falls and shatters to pieces, letting the liquid smear on the table and drip on the floor.
I slowly stare behind me to find Killian standing at my back, one of his arms taut as he clutches the edge of the chair.
His chest is bare, accentuated by the broken, haunting crows, and his face holds the darkness of a gothic chapel.
I always thought Killian was beautiful in a harsh way, but this is the first time I’ve see him as an actual nightmare.
My hand trembles as I lift it to show him the video. “Is this you?”
He watches it without a change of expression. My spine crowds with chills all over again when those words repeat.
The words of driving a suicidal person to their death.
The words no one should say to a normal person—let alone someone who’s struggling with depression.
When he remains silent, I repeat, more determined this time, “Was the one in the red mask you, Killian?”
“So what if it was?”
I think I’m going to throw up.
Or faint.
Or both.
I stand on shaky legs and start to leave. I don’t know where, but I need to go.
Now.
He grabs my shoulder, but I jerk back and slap it away. “Don’t fucking touch me, you monster.”
“Watch it,” he grinds out.
“Don’t come near me or I’ll go to your parents' room and scream the whole damn house down. I mean it.”
Then I’m running and running and crying and running.
I can feel the itch under my skin, the need to pull it all out, to end it all like Devlin did.
But I do something else.
I keep running.
35
KILLIAN
I drive my fist against the wall.
Pain explodes all over my knuckles, but it has no importance compared to the ticking in my head.
I’m nearing a cliff, an edge, and that’s dangerous.
My actions turn unpredictable when reality contradicts my desires, and right now, they’re the definition of a disaster.
I inhale deeply, but no amount of heavy breathing chases the black dots lining my vision.
Yet, I force myself to not bolt after Glyndon. Even I have no clue how I’ll react if I catch her right now.
You know what? Fuck it.
I’ve told Glyndon time and again that escaping me isn’t an option. She should’ve erased that thought from her repertoire, but she chose to leave.
She chose to defy me and provoke the devil side she hates so much.
I throw on some clothes, gather Glyn’s stuff, and grab Mom’s car keys. On my way to the garage, I check the app on my phone. The red dot moves at a moderate pace—she’s not walking, but not on a vehicle either.
Looks like my little rabbit has picked up her favorite running habit.
And yes, as promised, I sure as fuck put a tracker on her phone after she ghosted me that time.
I catch up to her after a two-minute drive as she jogs on the side of the road. From behind, the nefarious night devours her small silhouette.
If I were a predator searching for my next prey, she’d be a fucking perfect candidate.
My jaw clenches at the thought of another predator catching sight of her. He’d see how small and weak she is and make the snap decision to pounce.
I hit the brakes harder than needed on the side of the road and fling the door open.
She doesn’t stop to inspect the commotion, doesn’t even seem to be attuned to her surroundings.
One more fucking reason for her to be dragged into the darkness of the surrounding forest.
My parents' mansion is located in an upper-class, safe neighborhood on the outskirts of New York, but you never know what lurks in the dark.
I jog behind Glyndon, fall in step, then slide in front of her. She crashes straight into my chest and I grab her elbow to keep her from tumbling sideways.
The road’s orange lights cast a warm glow on her drained, tear-streaked face. The usually bright green of her eyes has dimmed, becoming as lifeless as that first time I saw her on that cliff.
Upon seeing me, she flings herself backward and slaps my hand away.
My fingers twitch to strangle the fuck out of her, but I have a feeling it’ll have the exact opposite effect of what I intend.
I grind my teeth. “That’s the second and final time you push me away, are we clear?”
She starts to bypass me, but I block her path, my voice lowering. “Are we fucking clear?”
“Fuck you. You have been playing with my emotions all this time, knowing full well what type of relationship Devlin and I had.”
“Relationship?” It takes effort not to shake the fuck out of her. “That’s an overstatement. You knew him for maybe two months max before his death. The only reason you felt close to him is because he fed into your insecurities, made you feel like you’re some kindred soul and blah fucking blah. He was manipulating your stupid empathy and had a field day with it. I still can’t figure out why, but I know manipulation when I see it.”