Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
A heaviness settles into my chest, and I realize just how right he is. I’ve been so busy considering how I feel about this, that I haven’t considered what I’ll be leaving behind. My brows furrow, and I glance up at Zade, meeting his haunted stare. “Does it make me a monster if I want them to love me?” I ask in a small voice.
He shakes his head, something I’m not quite sure of flashing in his eyes. “I think that makes you human.”
Something shatters in my chest, and despite everything that’s happened since moving back to Faders Bay, I’ve never felt so broken. Not when I was locked up in Zade’s cell, not when I was running for my life, and not even when I was thrown in Empire’s prison. The thought of breaking their hearts destroys me, but that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
I can’t keep away from them. Not now. I’m in too deep. Perhaps I’m selfish. Perhaps I am a monster—forgive me if I’m wrong here—but Zade was the one who put these men in my life. Zade is the one who’s taking me away from them. Not to mention they all know what’s going down in eighteen days, yet they’ve each allowed themselves to get close.
This isn’t on me, and Zade DeVil does not get to make me feel guilty over the fact that he’s ending my life for his own sick ambitions. It’s not as though I’m being taken from them by some fucked-up incurable disease. Zade is physically taking my life, so he doesn’t get to put the weight on my shoulders. This is his burden to bear.
Besides, the way I see it, he told me last night that his mother never perished during the ritual. She got to live a long and—maybe—happy life, while Zade’s father got everything he wanted. So why the hell isn’t Zade getting off his ass and figuring out how the fuck his father did it? Hell, as for the boys, as far as I’m aware, Dalton is the only one who’s actively trying to find a way to save me. Perhaps Sawyer and Easton deserve to get their hearts torn to shreds.
Standing up, I stride across to Zade, shoving my hand into his shoulder and forcing his back against the couch. My knee presses down against the cushion, and I lower myself to straddle his lap. Those dark, venomous eyes cloud with apprehension, but I ignore them as I circle my arms around his neck.
I suck in a breath, my chest rising to press against his, and despite his resolve, his hands fall to my waist. Leaning in, my lips hover just a breath before his, and I lower my tone to the softest whisper. “You’re a small, broken man, Zade DeVil,” I tell him. “Even your father, as shallow and weak as he was, could find a way to spare your mother’s life, and yet day in and day out, you sit here with the resolve to follow through with this bullshit ritual. You’re a sheep falling in line and following orders like a good little boy, and yet I thought you wanted to be a leader.” I pause a second, watching as he swallows hard, soaking in every word like a fucking sponge. “You don’t get to put your guilt on my shoulders. You’re taking my life for your own benefit and have the audacity to sit here across from me and tell me that it’s my fault the boys will end up with broken hearts. Absolutely not. If they’re going to stand by and twiddle their thumbs while their best friend kills the woman they’re falling for, then how the hell is that my fault?”
I push off him and stand in front of the couch, staring down at him to see nothing but a hollow brokenness in his eyes. “Be the fucking man I know you can be, Zade. Be a true leader and put an end to this bullshit. Hell, just be a good goddamn friend. The ball is in your court, but remember, what you do with it defines the kind of man and the kind of leader you will be. Right now, all I see is a weak little boy.”
And with that, I walk away, hoping that just this once, he feels as small as what he makes me feel.
Chapter 27
DALTON
Striding through Zade’s bedroom on Saturday night, I glance up at his freshly painted walls to the new tally Oakley’s been using to keep track of her remaining days. Every time I see it or watch as she removes another strike, a part of me dies.
Fifteen days to go.
Zade was right. I should never have allowed myself to get so fucking attached to her. He warned me, and I shrugged it off. I didn’t know that she would capture me so completely. This was supposed to be a little fun before Zade took her away, but it’s become so much more than that. And now the thought of what’s going to happen to her, the brutality of it all … fuck. It makes me want to tear Zade’s heart right out of his fucking chest, but how could I when he’s never possessed one?