Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
He didn’t lunge at me again. “You could have said something.”
“I didn’t know what was going to happen, and even if I did, it wasn’t in my best interest to do so.”
That dark fire was in his eyes, like retribution was coming.
“This is our home, Bolton. I don’t want to leave it—”
“Neither do I, but this is our reality now. So pack your shit, or we’re going to get on the plane with nothing.”
A plane…that meant another country. “Bolton, am I really worth this?”
He stopped to turn to me again.
“Is anything worth looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life? Is anything worth losing your home? You don’t even seem to enjoy my company—”
“I told you to pack.”
“Make it make sense, Bolton—”
He backhanded me. The slap was loud like a clap. “Why do you make me do this to you?”
My hand cupped my raw cheek, knowing it was red just from the heat.
“I don’t want to do this to you. I fucking hate it.”
I continued to rub my cheek. “You fooled me.”
He stared me down once again like he might strike me once more. He seemed to practice restraint for once, because nothing happened. He turned back to the closet and threw more items into a pile on the bed. “Let’s get moving.”
I carried my bag downstairs and saw the armed men near the couches. They spoke in quiet voices, like they didn’t want me to hear what they were saying. I looked around at the house that had felt like home these past few years. When Bolton had asked me to move in, he’d let me decorate it how I wanted, let me have more than half of the closet. He completely welcomed me into his life like I belonged there.
Those memories made me sad, because I wasn’t sure if they were real. Did the present have the power to change the past? It seemed like it, because whatever love had been here had died. It’d been burned at the stake like a witch on trial. Our departure should make me sad, but all the time I’d wasted was the only thing that made me sad. Precious time I would never get back. Opportunities I’d passed on. Even if Theo got bored of me and walked away, whatever time we’d had together would still have been worth it. It still would have been real. Those memories would make me warm, even if they made me sad too.
Bolton came down the stairs and dropped his bag next to mine. “Alright, let’s go.”
I eyed the man closest to me, a gun hanging out of the back of his jeans. Even if I grabbed it and none of them shot me, I would only have one chance to shoot Bolton before they took me down—and I’d probably miss.
One of the guys pressed his finger into his ear to listen to his comms. His hand went up to stop Bolton, like whatever message was being relayed was imperative. “Bolton, we’ve got company.”
My heart had been about to stop beating out of hopelessness, but suddenly, it started to beat again, harder than it ever had.
“Three Hummers.” He looked at Bolton. “There’s got to be at least fifteen guys.”
Now my heart was racing. Theo was coming for me…
Bolton turned to look at me and stared me down like this was all my fault, like I was some mastermind who had orchestrated the entire thing, when in reality, I’d just gotten lucky that he’d picked Scarlett’s restaurant. “Light ’em up.” He turned to his guys. “Get Astrid a vest. Shit’s about to go down.”
One of the guys brought me a bulletproof vest and helped me put it on. It felt like it weighed as much as a car on my now-thinner frame.
Bolton put on one himself and grabbed a shotgun from the closet.
The excitement faded away as the fear settled in. A war was about to take place, and I was right smack in the middle of it. If Theo failed, I would be stuck here forever—with his blood on my hands.
Bolton grabbed me by the hand, guided me around the couch, and forced me to kneel on the floor. “Stay here. Bullets are about to fly.”
I was on my knees on the rug, using the couch as another layer of protection. “Don’t kill him.”
He stared at me for several hard seconds, the irritation visible in his face like I’d just insulted him. “And what about me?”
My eyes shifted back and forth between his. “I don’t care what happens to you.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that to my own husband, the man whose last name I’d worn like a badge of honor. A wedding photo was on the end table beside us, but it meant nothing now.
Gunshots sounded in the distance because the battle had begun, but Bolton continued to stare at me like he hadn’t noticed. The pain in his eyes was bright like headlights, and I watched him swerve into the middle of the road as he lost control of the wheel.