Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“You can tell me this until you’re blue in the face, but if I hadn’t killed that man at Medusa Enterprises—in the goddamn boardroom—you’d never have been arrested. It’s because of me you got caught. I was the reckless one.”
“No, it’s because someone was setting you up. Someone took video of that incident and went to the authorities with it. You had no way of knowing you weren’t safe in our building. You had no way of knowing. If anyone is to blame, it’s Medusa security. Footage of you killing someone should have never gotten out the front door. Our family business, our family empire, should have been impenetrable.” He clears the distance between us and places a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t on you.”
Ares looks over his shoulder at Olympus Manor, and my eyes follow. There is slight movement from the curtain that hangs from the attic window. I smile knowing the manor’s ghost is watching two brothers discuss life and death matters. I wouldn’t expect anything else. This island is full of ghosts. They are the backbone of Heathens Hollow. It’s almost as if the dead rule over all of us.
However, hundreds of people live and do work on the island and have for centuries. But the Godwin family still owns Heathens Hollow. The land is ours and the people merely lease it. The Godwins have owned this island since the Victorian era. It’s a fishing town, just under four hours from Seattle, that houses the rich, the middle class, the poor, and then the Eastsiders. The people who live on the Eastside of the island don’t even have enough to be considered poor.
Though the island is so close to such a big and thriving city, the fact that it remains cloaked in hazy fog for most of the year keeps it somewhat of a secret. Rarely do people speak of this secretive place. Tales are told, but reality is never known. The truth of what happens on this island is… murky. The only way to reach the island is by sea or air, and the isolation only adds to the hidden shadows of this place. It’s dark, dank, gloomy, and even after a rain, a rainbow never forms. This island is not for the fragile or for the man who can’t endure a harsh storm. The full-timers are weathered, cut to the bone, and if someone really wants to know Heathens Hollow, all they have to do is look into the eyes of one of the old fishermen who work the boats at the harbor. Everything you want to know is expressed.
And then there are the wealthy. Not Godwin family wealthy. No one can match us. But there are the second vacation homes, the mansions only visited when the occupants want to swim in dark seclusion. There are still parties fueled by fame, liquor, and sex, but on this island the pace is often slower. The heartbeat of the Pacific northwestern island pauses, beats loudly, then pauses again.
Heathens Hollow is the island of gods and monsters. Innocence is drowned early in life by the crashing waves. Heathens Hollow is… home. Though we live and run our family empire—Medusa Enterprises—from Seattle, Heathens Hollow will forever be our resting ground.
Olympus Manor has served as a beacon, a legacy, a symbol of our family lineage. Though we all have houses in Seattle, this is most definitely our family home. Our ancestors haunt the hallways of the house, they wander the grounds, and they stand over us in protection, even now.
“Remember when we were kids, and we’d stand here on the cliff and howl like we were wolves?” Ares says, clearly reflecting on his past in his last hours of freedom.
“Father hated that,” I say as I see the vision like it was yesterday. “He hated when we acted feral.”
“He hated a lot about us. We weren’t allowed to be kids.”
“We were Godwins. The expectations were—”
“Unrealistic. Always have been,” Ares interrupts.
“You know there still may be a chance Father gets you out of this,” I say. “Troy Godwin never loses.”
Ares smirks. “Maybe. But doubtful. I think the inevitable is pretty set in stone on this one.” He looks down at my left hand and notices what’s missing. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
I run my thumb over the bare skin of my wedding finger. “It’s complicated.”
“Simplify it for me. What’s going on with you and Daphne?” he asks. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I clearly didn’t get the memo.”
“No memo… Things are just shit between us,” I confess. “We both want out. A divorce.”
“But you know you can’t,” he finishes for me.
“Godwins don’t divorce,” I parrot the words of my father. “But we’re both tired of living this lie. We don’t love each other, and I don’t think we ever did. I married her so I’d have arm candy at events, and it felt like what society wanted. She married for money. It was essentially an arranged marriage. We want to sever the agreement but can’t.”