Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Perse massages her temples. “Oh, really, Killian? How do you know that?”
I smirk. “Because I killed her.”
Pulling up to Tabella after searching it on my phone, I’m surprised to see that the parking is underground. The truck is even louder with the concrete walls barricading the sound waves, confining them to such a vast space.
I pull into a parking slot and take out my phone. I see four missed calls from Killian.
Ignoring them all, I’m just about to text him and ask him what he wants when he’s calling me and the photo I took of him and I in Kiznitch is point blank in my face.
His smile. His dimples. His white teeth biting at my jaw. His sparkly blue eyes that I know aren’t showing. So different to my blue eyes. Dark hair. So similar to mine. I won’t lie, we look good together.
Sighing, I swipe the phone open just as I’m slipping out of the driver’s side and jumping down to the ground.
“What’s wrong, Killian?” I absently hear a car pull up behind me. Turning around, a black SUV skids up beside me and the doors swing open.
“Get home. We need to talk.”
“I’m sorry for stealing your truck, okay? I just have to see her.”
“Saskia, I swear to fucking God, get home now. I don’t give a fuck about my truck. Fucking get home.”
My mouth opens just as an older man in an immaculate suit steps out of the black SUV. “I’ve—”
“—Drop the phone, Saskia,” the man orders, and I watch as he unbuttons his jacket and fluffs it up. His hair is short, greying on the sides, and his neck is covered in tattoos. My mouth turns dry as my palms twitch.
“Who are you and where is Hope?” I ask, forgetting that I have the phone still pressed to my ear.
“Fuck!” Killian curses in the background, but before I can say anything, another man steps out from the front of the SUV and slaps my phone out of my hand. I watch in slow motion as it skids to the side.
The old man smirks. “Get in the car, Saskia. Now.”
I look to the side, and then to the truck where the keys are still in the ignition. I could run. I’d have to jump up high, but I could run. Maybe if Killian didn’t have a fucking lift kit, I’d have a chance.
“Don’t try it, doll. You’re coming with me.”
I try it. Spinning around, I reach for the handle and just as the door pulls open, something hits me in the back of my head and everything goes black.
I wake to the sound of a circus tune playing in the background. It resembles a jack-in-the-box tune. Something I don’t want to hear first thing waking up.
Waking up.
Getting hit over the head.
Killian’s truck.
I groan, pressing against the cold tiles on the floor. Instantly, I freeze, recognition slamming into me at a hundred miles an hour. I shuffle back, but the chains that are locked around my ankles restrict my movements.
The room is a gentle pink, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There’s a metal bed, and a dresser to the side, but that’s not what catches my eyes first.
It’s the dollhouse that’s sitting in the corner, tucked away from view. Dragging my eyes away from that and needing to find an escape route, I find the door. One entry in and one entry out.
It’s warm. Too warm. Sweat swallows my flesh as it pours over me, and I’m thankful that I have just enough slack to swipe it all away. Where the fuck am I? The door opens, and a man dressed in a grey suit steps in. The same man.
“You’re the one who took me?” I ask, tilting my head. “Let me fucking go!”
The man grabs the rocking chair that’s on the other side of the room, taking a careful seat and rocking back and forth. He’s old. Has to be pushing late fifties judging by the way his hair is greying around his scalp. He has angry features, but gentle eyes. A complete contradiction to himself.
“Who are you?” I ask, although I’m almost certain that he will not answer me.
He kicks his leg up, resting his ankle on his knee, reaching into the front of his suit jacket and taking out a cigar. His lips wrap around the end as he rolls it between his lips.
“I’m your worst nightmare, Saskia Dragavei, but I’m also your destiny.”
I ignore his words as my name rolls from his tongue and latches around my throat like a vise, threatening to choke me.
I scatter back farther, confused. When I look down, it’s the first time I notice what I’m wearing. A hot pink crop top made from vinyl and a short hot pink skirt. I reach up to touch my face, feeling the oily makeup slide onto the cushion of my fingertips. He fucking dressed me up?