Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
She hadn’t once stopped to wonder why her? An unseasoned journalist with zero bylines to her name. He’d taken one look at her, listened to her eagerly espouse her admiration of Trystan Abbott’s phenomenal talent, and had leaned back with a sharklike smile and said that she was the exact type of writer he needed to do this in-depth piece.
Naturally, Iris had leaped at the opportunity. What a feather in her cap. Now she suspected that he’d chosen her because he thought she was easily manipulated. After all, an obvious fangirl like her would never have a bad word to say about his problematic client.
But that was before Iris had realized what a surly, uncommunicative hermit Trystan Abbott had become. Now she was intrigued to find out what had happened to cause this change in him. Unless . . . she tilted her head, brain working overtime as she thought about it, had he always been this way? Had that handsome, genial, joking man been the facade behind which this antisocial grouch had been hiding all along?
She thumped at the door in frustration.
“Come on. Turn the lights on. Please!” she demanded again, but it remained pitch black. She hovered uncertainly, not sure which way to turn or where to go.
This was terrible and Iris literally had no clue what to do next. Oh, how she wished she were back home, having dinner at her parents’ house, fighting over the last roast potato with her brother. She would happily listen to her dad champion the benefits of running the business with him if it meant no longer being in this place.
The wind gusted around her, tearing at her clothes and hair, stealing the breath from her lips. She hugged herself in a futile attempt to trap the warmth and stamped her feet as she tried to think.
It was hard to concentrate when she was terrified. She kept looking back at the door, hoping he’d be standing there with a hah, gotcha! grin on his face, but as the minutes ticked by she resigned herself to the fact that this was not going to happen.
In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d dismissed all thought of her from his brain and gone to bed.
“You can’t stand out here all night, Iris,” she berated herself. “Just move. In any direction. Anything is better than this.”
She took a step forward and her foot immediately sank into something icy and wet.
“Fuck, shit! Fuck!” She lifted her foot and shook it. Her trainer had offered absolutely no protection from the water and her foot was completely soaked. Her toes had gone instantly numb from the cold. Probably a good thing, since it meant she no longer felt the pain after having it slammed in a door. God, this was just what she needed.
She took a couple of steps backward, away from whatever the hell body of water lay in front of her, and once again stood there indecisively.
She heard a sound to her left and her head swung in that direction, but all she could see was the dark, high outline of the hedge against the slightly lighter sky. The sound came again, rustling in that hedge, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight.
“Go away,” she whispered. Then raised her voice and tried again. The thready, quavering sound that emerged from her throat was embarrassing, but at least it could be heard over the wind. “Go away!”
There was a soft, chuffing, animalistic sound in response and she backed up slowly as a dark shape separated itself from the hedge and prowled toward her.
“Get back,” she implored, taking another step backward, but this time her wet trainer skidded against something slick on the paving and she lost her balance, and fell .
She impacted the hard ground with a pained oof and the massive dark silhouette saw its opportunity and surged toward her with a whining growl.
This is it, she lamented to herself, terrified as she lifted her arms to her face to protect her head from harm. She curled into a ball, hoping to make herself as small a target as possible. This is how I die.
Once again Iris’s thoughts swirled to her family, her parents who had sacrificed so much for her and her brother. Her brother, who liked to act like a tough, independent guy but who called her every Sunday, just to talk. This would destroy them.
She mustered up enough resentment and anger to consider Trystan Abbott’s role in her downfall and she cursed him with every fiber of her being, but she refused to allow her last thought to be of that horrible man, and instead held the image of her family bright in her mind.
The massive thing stood above her, four paws straddling her body and Iris braced herself for unimaginable pain. She would have screamed if she’d had the breath for it, but she had none.