Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I open the door to the outside and start running.
Right to Kincaid’s boat.
CHAPTER 28
The rain lashes at my face as I run down the ramp and the dock, nearly wiping out a few times. The wind batters me from the sides, making me wobble, waves smashing up against the sides of the boats as they’re tossed violently in the swells.
I reach Mithrandir and pull myself aboard, bursting through the saloon doors and yelling down into the cabin.
“You knew!” I scream.
I scramble down the stairs in time to see Kincaid coming out of his quarters, pulling on his jeans.
“What happened?” he says fearfully.
“You liar!” I yell, storming toward him and slapping him across the face. The CRACK echoes in the cabin, and before he can adjust, I shove him hard against his chest.
He moves back a step, hand at his cheek, staring at me in horror.
“You asshole!” I scream again. “I saw Clayton! I went into the operating lab—I saw him there. He’s dead. He’s dead, Kincaid. You killed him.”
His face pales, and he swallows hard. “I didn’t.”
“Liar! I saw the blood on your boots! I asked Clayton, and he said you knew! He said you were one of them!”
“You just said he was dead,” he says calmly.
“And you know why he was able to speak despite that! You killed him, one way or another, you killed him, and you’re making him come alive. You’re bringing him back from the dead again and again so you can experiment on him.” My heart breaks at the endless cruelty of it all. “All so you can peddle your fucking drugs.”
He presses his lips together in a fine line.
“Fuck your NDA! I’m reporting you to the police! I’m reporting you all to the police!” I start looking around for his phone.
“There’s no reception here. The storm is causing service dropouts from the satellite,” he says. He reaches for me, and I try to pull myself out of his grasp, but he holds tight. “Listen, Sydney, I can explain everything, and I will. But you’re not safe now. Neither of us are.”
“Why? No one saw me down there. And Clayton wouldn’t tell them that.”
Would he?
“If they suspect something, they just need to check their monitors. Everything here is recorded, everywhere, all the time. Even in this very boat.”
I look around wildly, trying to spot the camera.
“We have to go,” he says, grabbing both my shoulders now and peering into my face. “Do you hear me? We have to leave. On the boat. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, and especially not in this storm!” I yell, wriggling myself out of his grasp. Off-balance, I land against the chart table, then spot the VHF radio.
I can call the coast guard!
I reach for it, but then Kincaid grabs me from behind and pulls me away. “Not until I’ve explained,” he grunts, holding me in place.
I squirm, trying to fight him, but he’s just too big and too strong.
“Let me go!”
“I can’t do that, Syd,” his voice rough at my ear. “I’m sorry.”
Then he’s pulling me backward, and with one hand, quickly reaches under the chart table to pull out a spool of rope.
“No!” I yell. “Help!” I scream. “Someone help me!”
Oh my god, what is he going to do?
“No one will hear you in the storm,” he says grimly, wrapping the rope around my shoulders quickly, pinning my arms to my sides. Then he steers me to the couch, plunking me down.
I try to bite him, but he has quick reflexes.
“Stay here!” he commands, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t move. I’m doing all of this to help you, Syd. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” I exclaim as he turns and goes up the steps two at a time until he’s on the deck. He turns the engine on, and it comes to life, loud, rumbling and shaking the boat.
Oh my god. He’s really going to try and leave with me. He’s serious. He’s kidnapping me and taking me with him into the storm. We’re going to die!
I’m going to die.
I’m going to die and wake up strapped to an operating table.
I get up and run over to the galley kitchen. With the way my arms are pinned down, I struggle to open the drawers. I keep watch through the portholes at the side, watching as Kincaid’s legs go past, the sound of ropes being unfurled. I manage to pull a drawer open, leaning just so to try and get my fingers around a knife. I have no idea how I’m going to stab him like this, but it’s better than nothing.
By the time I have the handle in my grasp, the boat starts moving backward, waves slamming into the stern.
We’re loose, no longer tied to the dock.
“Oh fuck,” I whimper. Suddenly, the GPS console at the chart table comes alive, and I can hear beeps from on deck. Kincaid must be plotting a course, using the autopilot on the system in the cockpit, which is showing up on the downstairs chart.