Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
No matter their reason for being here, I'm glad they are.
"Have you been hurt, sweetheart?" Bandera asks Kaylee, making me snarl like a territorial caged animal. He looks at me and points. "Not the time for that shit, man."
"I'm not hurt," she says.
"Your ankle," I say, pointing to the mark on her left leg.
"Can't be healed by a paramedic," she mutters.
"Did he—"
"No!" Kaylee snaps, already knowing what her friend is going to ask, and I swear my vision sheets white with rage.
I'll kill him just for tying her up, but the fact that he could've done more, even in the limited time he had her alone up here, makes me want to track down every person in his entire family to make sure that they're incapable of creating another monster.
"What happened?" I ask, needing to know what she went through but unsure if I'll be able to be caged once I find out.
She shakes her head, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks.
"Kaylee?" I plead, watching as she darts her eyes around the room.
"I don't want to talk about it," she says. I know she can see the pain in my eyes, so she throws me a bone. "Later."
I dip my head, fully intending to make her keep her promise. I don't want her bottling all of this shit up, and I have no idea what long-lasting effects it will have on her.
"This is all my fault," Morgan sobs, tears now streaking down her face.
Thankfully, Kaylee doesn't tell her that it isn't. I'm not exactly impressed with my girl getting hurt because of something going on in her friend's life, but, honestly, it could've easily been the other way around. This situation could've been reversed with Morgan in trouble because of the recent choices that Kaylee has made.
If I dig deep enough, I know it's still possible this is related to Dima and his band of bastards. We have intel that the organization was considering going after Morgan and turning her out, so it isn't too far-fetched of an idea.
"We need to get you out of here," I say, holding my hand out to Kaylee.
Morgan looks completely terrified.
"You, too, sweetheart," Twisted says as he takes a step deeper into the room.
"The party isn't over," Morgan says, but her voice is distant.
I don't get the idea that she's egotistical enough to stay for a party. It just sounds like she has responsibilities and doesn't know if she can walk away from them.
"We've already started clearing the house," Bandera explains. "Waitstaff and the catering company you hired have been instructed to come back in the morning. It's all taken care of."
Morgan nods at him as she stands from the bed, a look of relief on her face, and it makes me wonder just how long this woman has been making decisions and hasn't had someone step in and provide a little reprieve. On the other hand, she could be a complete control freak and never gives anyone the chance to help her.
Either way, she doesn't argue when Twisted holds a hand out to her. She simply places her hand in his, gives Kaylee one more look over her shoulder to make sure she's okay, and then walks out of the room, shoulders shaking with the effort of her sobs.
"Baby," I whisper, unconcerned about Bandera standing near the doorway. "Look at me."
Her face is splotchy, her eyes red from crying so hard.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not hurt," she whispers, pressing her face into my chest, and I can read what she isn't saying.
This will have a lasting effect on her. I think that's only natural, but I would've done everything in the world to keep her from having been in this situation.
I should've followed her upstairs. I should've come up here sooner. I blamed the weirdos at the party and their intricate costumes for the warning that rushed up my spine when she walked up the stairs. I should've known better.
"Let's get you home," I say, urging my hands under her arms to help her off the bed.
As much as I liked seeing her in this wedding dress earlier, it's a real pain in the ass right now, having a million layers that I just can't find the end of as I try to lift it so she doesn't trip over it.
"Can you help me change before we leave?"
As much as I don't want to spend another fucking second in this house, I know it would be more practical if she were wearing something else.
She points to the bag on the floor, and I don't waste a second reaching for it.
"Give us a minute," I grunt at Bandera, but he's already stepping into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind him.
It takes longer than it should to get her out of the dress and into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt because I have to touch nearly every place on her body to make sure that she's physically uninjured.