Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“You didn’t want to?” I rambled, wanting nothing more than to put the bullet in his head right that second.
“Your family had killed tons of our men. Our job was to go in and snuff you out. We needed to put an end to the family. Your mother wouldn’t help us, and it left her as a loose string in the mix of things. You know what they say about lose…” I didn’t even give him a moment of time before I jumped on him. My fist went flying into his jaw and I saw red. My mother was not a loose string.
“A loose string? A loose string to what? You trying to kill people who did nothing wrong?” I was screaming now, my rage mounting with every hit to his face.
Turning his face to me, he smiled. His white teeth showed through the mess of blood. It was in his smile I found the need to finish the job. He deserved to die. A death for a death.
Suddenly, it was as if everything went in slow motion. I could hear Bree’s screams as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gun. His eyes grew wide with fear as he tried to pull away, but there was no hope for him. Placing the barrel against his forehead, I pulled the trigger. No remorse shattered within me, not even as I watched his brains splatter on the floor behind him, or the fact I had just killed the father of the woman I loved…
Instead, I sat there above him, watching the life leave his body. Bree’s cries turned to lunatic screams as she scrambled across the floor. Her small hands pawed at his shirt as she pleaded with him to wake up, to be alive. But even I knew there wasn’t any hope in what she was doing. He had to die, even if it killed me. Even if it killed me to hurt her—nothing spoke louder to me than my need for blood.
“Daddy….” I heard her cry, tears streaking through the dirt on her face, and I didn’t even care. I didn’t care about anything.
“Get up,” I said sternly. Her head shook, and I knew something bad was about to happen. I knew I was about to break, to hurt her, again.
“How the fuck could you do this?” She turned to me, angry and sad. I learned long ago showing emotions like she was made us weak. I understood I had just shot and killed her father, but this was life. When you messed with my people, took people from me, then I was forced to do something about it.
“A life for a life. We’re even. Now get up and let’s fucking leave before his goonies come up here.” I didn’t have to be told he had other men working with him. I knew it. I was smart in that aspect.
She shuffled to her feet, tears still falling from her eyes. “You think I’m going to fucking go anywhere with you? Leave me the fuck alone. I should call the cops on you right now.”
I almost laughed as I watched her gaze swing around the room as if she were looking for something. When did she become so strong? “Not a good idea, Piccolo,” I warned, pointing the gun at her. Were we enemies now? Would I have to kill her, too?
“Do it. Shoot me. I bet you can’t. I bet you’re too big of a fucking coward. God knows, I know it. My father knew it, too. That’s why he killed your mother…” I had seen red before she finished speaking.
My hand reached out and gripped tightly onto the hair on her scalp as I pulled her face into mine. My nostrils were flaring, and my blood was burning. I was conflicted. I wanted to kick her ass, but at the same time, I just wanted to drag her the fuck away from all of this. There was no fear in her eyes—just red-hot anger.
“Never. Ever. Fucking talk to me like that again. You’re going with me, and you will do whatever the fuck I tell you.”
Instead of releasing her, I stared deeply into her eyes, not even noticing the way her face soured. As if out of nowhere, I watched her pull back and spit on me. My chest heaved, and my anger spiraled out of control.
Releasing my grip on her hair, I wrapped one hand around her throat, and the other along her jaw.
“I was kind to you, I understood you, and I cared for you. I still fucking do, but you knew if I found out, it would be his dead body on the ground. You’re lucky it’s not yours.” Did I really mean it?
Clenching her teeth with deep anger as she tried to pull away, she seethed, “I would much rather be dead than to have to fucking go anywhere with you.” She could be mad all she wanted. Her ass was still stuck with me. She had nowhere else to go, and I had already grown too attached to her to allow her to go.
“Then I’ll be sure to make it your own personal hell.” My fingers dug harder into her cheeks, and I knew there would be bruises if I didn’t stop, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything,—her hurting, the fact I had killed her father—nothing mattered.
“It already is,” she ground out. As I stared deeply into her eyes, I watched the pain and anger swirl. I had caused her this heartache— even if I didn’t want to know if this would make or break us.
Instead of responding to her, I released her face with a defaming look. I had taken the beautiful, innocent angel she was and had molded her into the devil’s toy. I had broken her beyond repair. Gripping her arm tight, I pulled her toward the door, only to be stopped. She was digging her feet into the ground, and I knew if I didn’t do something fast, we would be caught. There was no time to sit around and wait for everyone else to get here.