Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
His steady gaze is on me through that rushed speech. “How it would affect you after...like how it affected me?”
“No,” I tell him, my throat raw. “I knew it wouldn’t be that bad. You had to kill a friend. I would only be killing a guard I knew. But…every other plan had fallen through. Like the one with Crash. I wouldn’t have needed to kill anyone at all—just make them sick on laxatives so they’d get out of the control booth and I could free everyone. But that didn’t work. So I was afraid of failing again.”
He regards me quietly. Then nods. “All right. But tell me—are you planning to escape again? Maybe watched to see where I put my key? Maybe thinking of bashing me over the head and grabbing it?”
“If I can,” I tell him. “Because I’m tired of being locked up.”
“Fair enough. And if you get past me, you’re free to go.”
I stare at him. “Really?”
“Sure. If I get bashed over the head by a girl who weighs in at maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, I deserve to be the laughingstock of this club.” He pulls out a chair. “Now, sit.”
Oh god. I shouldn’t really laugh about whether or not he’ll free me when he’s the reason I’m imprisoned. Biting my lip against a smile, I sit and grab a paper plate. “Shouldn’t you be sharing this with your family, instead? I can’t imagine they celebrated while you were gone.”
And in that respect, I was luckier than he was. Because it wasn’t a dinner, but I did get to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Not that it was a good holiday—it was the same day that Tusk attacked me and broke Matt’s arm. But I spent a lot of time with Matt that day and the next.
“They didn’t.” He scoops out a load of potatoes. “But if I sat down with them, that wouldn’t be celebrating the holiday, either. Instead they’d either spend the whole damn time asking how I was, or spend the whole damn time not asking how I was but still wondering. And I’d spend the time insisting that I was all right. So instead I’ll spend the time with someone who doesn’t need to ask, and who I don’t need to lie to.”
Because he’s not all right. Hesitantly, I say, “Are they okay? Your sister and your family? I know it’s not right for me to ask but...I’d like to know.”
His jaw clenches. “So you can share some guilt, too?”
My throat tightens and I nod.
“Well, take a load off. Because they’re fine.”
“Like you are fine? Or for real?”
His mouth quirks. “For real. Now eat your fucking meal.”
“Okay.” But I don’t go for the potatoes, though they look buttery and delicious. I drag the pumpkin pie in front of my plate, cut out a slice, then see the look he gives me. “If I’ve learned anything these past months, it’s not to wait around for the good stuff. So I’m eating dessert first.”
That grin flashes again. “Then cut me a slice, too.”
I do, carefully scooping the pie out while he shakes a can of whipped cream.
He waits for me to dig in, lets me enjoy a few bites before asking, “Who made the meals in the stables?”
I shrug, because I truly don’t know. “I assumed it was someone up at the farmhouse, because the guards delivered the trays to the stables every day—and who is going to make daily deliveries to the middle of nowhere?”
“So maybe one of the militia? Or the Iron Blood?”
“Or someone they hired specifically for that purpose. Planning and cooking that many meals had to be almost a full time job. Whoever it was, I never saw them or talked to them.”
He nods, eyeing me speculatively. Maybe surprised that I answered at all.
But in the past four days, I’ve thought a lot about this—about how much I’ll say. There’s some things I can’t give to them. Like Papa or the doc. Not without risking Matt. But the other stuff? I don’t see how it would hurt. And if I give them as much as I can, maybe they’ll let me go earlier.
Because four days have already passed. And I’m not panicking about the time yet, because either one of two things has happened: after the raid, Papa decided to destroy everything connected to him and that might draw the attention of the authorities. In that case, Matt’s already dead. But I can’t think that. So I have to believe in the second scenario—that Papa won’t tell Matt what happened at the stables at all. Matt’s supposed to be in the clinic for a few weeks. So he’d stay quiet there. After that, Papa might move him to another stable, if there is one. Or sell him to another stable boss.