Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
But even with the numbers so decimated, Reign wasn't just accepting any who came knocking. And several had.
He was vetting us extensively.
So far, we were the only five deemed worthy of his trust and respect. That said something.
"Angel," Cyrus said into the phone, shooting his brother a brow-raise that relayed some sort of message only brothers could understand. "You liked that, did you?" he asked, smirking at Edison. "Yeah, baby. Why don't I come over and show you some other things you will like a whole fuckuva lot more?" he offered, standing. "Ever been gone down on by a guy with a beard?" he asked as he walked past.
"That's about enough for me," I said with a smile as I stood.
"You walkin'?" Edison asked, knowing that was my MO.
There was hardly a night in the past three years that I didn't take a walk. Some were longer than others. Some went for only ten minutes- killing some urges before I hit the sack. Others went from sundown until sunrise. Some of it, after all the time, was habit. My addiction was no longer a daily struggle. It was just a part of who I was. There were some times when the urges would come up- when I was stressed out or around the anniversary of my mother's death, sometimes around holidays for the same reason. But most of the walking was just cathartic- head clearing.
"Yeah," I agreed, grabbing my coffee cup and tossing it.
"Long one?" he went on. I got the impression at times that Edison was keeping an eye on me. Not because he didn't trust me, but to make sure I stayed on the straight and narrow. But he never elaborated so I could never ask why, ask if he knew an addict who ate that bullet like I had almost done.
"Eh," I said, shrugging. "It's cold. I doubt it," I said, throwing a wave at them and then heading out the front door toward the gates, nodding at one of Lo's guys who was stationed there. She had convinced Reign to keep on at least one or two of her people until our numbers were back up. The threat was neutralized- viciously if the stories Duke, Repo, Reign, and Cash told were anything to go by and the details Edison had let us all in on when he was literally stepping over bodies while they dragged him out of the basement.
Better safe than sorry though.
The Henchmen couldn't take another hit that was for damn sure.
"You walking or heading home?" Leo, the guy at the gate, asked.
"Dunno yet," I said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as I passed him and moved onto the sidewalk, taking a deep breath.
Three years.
I could walk the streets of Navesink Bank blindfolded and ear-plugged. I could walk it in my sleep.
But sometimes, it still felt new. It still felt like I was fresh off the train.
It was a Thursday and, aside from the very newly twenty-one year olds hitting up Chaz's for "Thirsty Thursday", things were quiet. I passed a few people walking their dogs and a couple guys I knew as dealers though I never associated with them. It was easy to get to know the faces of Third Street when my window looked right at their front stoop to their building.
They had been a weak, pathetic organization for years that, I learned, had been because of one too many changes of leadership and a lot of arrests. But they were building up again under a new leader and their numbers were growing. Didn't matter what time I took a walk, I saw Third Street dealers everywhere.
Heroin.
If it wasn't willpower to walk by them daily and not get a hit of the shit that used to make my life seem like the most amazing thing in the world, I didn't know what was.
An hour later, hands numb from the cold, I jumped over a small wall in the alley on the side of Chaz's, trying to make a shortcut back to the compound for a cup of something hot and a hot shower to get some feeling back in my extremities.
I was halfway down the alley before I saw it.
Her.
I saw her.
This wasn't some meet-cute.
This wasn't some cheesy as fuck love at first sight.
This was the familiar, ice cold sensation of dread filling my veins as my stomach plummeted.
This wasn't pretty.
This wasn't the stuff of fairy tales.
This was me realizing that the girl face down on the filthy cement with her body writhing was OD'ing.
This was my old demons staring me in the face.
This was me seeing it from the outside for the first time.
And it was ugly.
It was so ugly that almost everything in me was screaming at me to go- to run- to leave her there.
Almost everything.
The other part of me knew that she would die before someone else found her.