Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“If you’re done preaching like a hypocritical pastor…” I push past him and control the limp in my step.
I’m nothing less than the personification of physical perfection, and the world won’t see anything else, not even if I’m drowning in my own blood.
Bran’s words keep ringing in my ears like an unholy prayer. Or maybe it’s holy, because the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get.
After washing up in the locker room and changing into casual trousers and a hoodie, I head to the half-deserted car park.
My whole body aches as I slowly slide into the driver seat. That fucker Nikolai got me good and probably bruised several of my ribs.
I pull out my phone and find a few texts.
Ava: I can’t believe you lost after I bet on you. What the hell, Lan?
Rory: If you don’t give me my rightful place, you’ll deeply regret this, Landon. Remember, you’re not immortal.
Bethany: I miss our good times. Can I watch if I bring you one of my friends?
Nila: You’re belittling us at this point, Lan. Who’s getting all your attention?
Definitely not you.
I ignore all of them, except for Ava, whom I tell that I’ll pay her back the next time we meet.
Usually, I tolerate people, but at this point, they’re becoming my least favorite chess pieces that I’d much rather kill off instead of seeing them on my board.
I scroll to the text that Mia obviously read but didn’t reply to. When she said she was abandoning me for some stupid family dinner, I personally sent a fighting invitation to Nikolai that I knew he wouldn’t refuse.
He’s wanted to fight me ever since the incident that sent him to the hospital, but due to being busy with his sister, I haven’t really had time for the fight club.
So yes, I might have ruined her family night, but then again, I clearly stated I’m not to be shoved aside to a mere secondary role.
I tap the back of the phone, contemplating how to drag her out of her ivory castle. I suppose I could light it on fire again, but the thought that she might accidentally get hurt promptly removes that thought from my mind.
There’s the option of going home and calling it a night, but my beast rebels against the very foundation of that idea.
I’ve been keeping him entertained by chasing, biting, choking, and fucking Mia in the most acrobatic positions. Not to mention the bursts of creativity caused by her mere presence.
Forget being able to sculpt after she’s gone. That’s impossible now. My muse only manifests itself whenever Mia is around and is at its peak after I’ve fucked her to several powerful orgasms.
So I can’t possibly get to work now or I’ll only produce mediocracy. After being used to glimpses of perfection, I can’t allow myself to slide back down to the peasant category.
I just refuse to work on anything but finishing touches when she’s not around.
The addiction I feared is now flowing in my veins and turning into a nuisance. The worst part is that it’s probably too late to cut it out without suffering the consequences.
So what should I do now?
Maybe you can just water the plants as she asked?
I’m about to reach for that sappy part of my brain and strangle him to death, but I catch a glimpse of three masked men standing in front of my car.
Well, well.
Seems my beast won’t go home empty, after all.
They are, of course, the Heathens. The one wearing a yellow stitch mask didn’t even bother to put any effort into hiding his identity. Nikolai is still wearing black shorts from when we were fighting. His distinctive tattoos, which could give an artist a stroke, are on full display.
A baseball bat hangs nonchalantly on the shoulder of Red Mask, who’s none other than Killian. The reason I know is disgusting at best and involves seeing Glyn wearing it before making out with the bastard in his car when they came to visit my parents.
Naturally, I emptied his tires of air the moment he went inside. All four of them.
What? I managed to blame it on wild animals.
The orange mask is Jeremy, judging by the height and unnecessarily bulky build.
His weapon is a metal golf club that could possibly shatter someone’s skull. The target in this case being me.
But I do have a car that could crush a few legs. Preferably all three pairs of them. I grin as I rev my engine.
This baby can go from zero to one hundred in a few seconds and will teach them a lesson or two.
Nikolai approaches first, not giving a fuck about my McLaren’s loud engine.
He hits the bonnet with a fist. “Come outside.”
The tasteless brute dared to touch my car.
All I need is to hit the accelerator and he’ll join his family’s graves.