Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
I strain with all my energy to move my muscles, but they don’t respond. Not even the slightest twitch.
I don’t have to see Leo and Kody to know they’re in the same hell.
Rhett is going to rape her, and all we can do is sit here and burn.
I hate him with a force that defies comprehension. I hate him for what he’s done to Frankie, to Wolf, to all of us. I hate him for what he’s about to do. I hate him for taking away my ability to protect the people I love.
The depth of my hatred is a black hole, sucking in every last shred of light, every last piece of humanity, until all that’s left is darkness and rage.
As Rhett opens Frankie’s robe, something moves near her arm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see…
Wolf.
He’s awake.
And he’s holding the knife Kody must have passed to him.
His hand moves fast, too fast to register. Before I fully comprehend what’s happening, the blade flies through the air and sinks into the juncture between Rhett’s chest and shoulder.
He stumbles back, staring down at the weapon in shock. Then he glares at Wolf with demonic eyes.
As he tries to yank the knife free, Frankie kicks the gun off the table with a burst of movement that defies everything Rhett thought he controlled.
The weapon clatters to the floor, skidding across the wood.
For a split second, everything is chaos. Rhett’s face twists in fury as he dives for the gun, and Frankie lunges after him, her fingers clawing for it. The IV fluid bag and pump go flying, no longer connected to her.
Leo, Kody, and I are frozen in our seats, unable to move, to help, to do anything but watch as the scene unfolds before us.
Time slows, the seconds stretching into infinity as Frankie and Rhett grapple on the floor. They scramble in and out of view, fighting to gain control of the gun.
I can’t fucking move. I’m trapped in this useless body while the fire inside me rages unchecked, burning hotter and hotter with every second that passes. It’s tearing me apart, this helplessness.
At the edge of my sight, Wolf struggles to free himself, to help, but he’s fumbling. Still fighting the remnants of sedation.
Rhett’s head pops up, the fillet knife still protruding from his shoulder. I see it in his eyes as his hand closes around the gun, the cold resolve of a man willing to do anything to win.
Frankie grabs it at the same time, and a shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space of the cabin.
The sound echoes off the walls, bouncing around my skull and reverberating in my chest. Rhett and Frankie drop. I can’t tell who fired the shot, can’t see who has the gun, can’t know who’s been hit.
All I can do is sit here, helpless, as the world around me teeters on the brink of oblivion.
In the next breath, Oliver appears in my periphery.
The Ghost.
Thank fucking God. Finally.
He breezes toward Rhett and Frankie, a rifle in hand. He looks like he just stepped out of a war zone, his face streaked with dirt and his clothes torn from the descent. He wears a utility vest loaded with ammo and a parachute harness still half-attached to his back.
It was the only way we could bring him.
He sneaked onto the plane like a ghost, parachuted out of it as we approached the hills, and hiked as fast as he could into this hell.
Rhett rises to his feet, still fumbling with the gun, and I realize the fired shot came from Oliver.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Oliver raises the rifle and fires again.
The sound of the shot cracks through the air, and the pistol flies out of Rhett’s hand. He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his wrist as blood pours from his palm. His eyes widen as he stares at the gaping hole where his weapon once was.
Then his complexion pales with panic.
Tucking his bleeding hand under his arm, he turns to flee. His footsteps are frantic and staggering as he makes a desperate dash for the door.
Oliver is faster. He moves like a predator, his rifle trained on Rhett’s back, finger hovering over the trigger, ready to end this once and for all.
But before he fires, Frankie jumps to her feet, her scream tearing through the cabin. “Don’t shoot!”
Oliver freezes, his rifle still aimed at Rhett’s retreating form.
Confusion contorts his face as he glances back at her, his brow furrowed. “He’s getting away!”
Her lips curl into a crazed smile, and she laughs. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her. A sound more feral than human.
“There’s no escaping Hoss.” Her expression empties, and an eerie calmness settles over her. “Let him run.”
Oliver hesitates, clearly torn between his instincts and Frankie’s cryptic command.
“The bombs,” she says quickly.