Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 154691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“I want you to suck my dick,” he whispers in my ear.
“Okay,” I look over to the row of lounge chairs sitting under umbrellas. “Let’s go sit up there.” I go to pull away, but he pulls me back.
“No. Right here.”
I laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t joke about you swallowing my cock, doll.” He bites down on my collarbone.
I push him away. “We’re in the water. I’ll drown.”
His blue eyes meet mine, and an evil smile spreads across his face. “Precisely.”
His hands go to my shoulders, and he pushes me under the water. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. My arms flail, and I try to put my feet on the bottom to kick up, but it’s gone. No longer there.
He grips my hair and yanks me above water. I gasp the moment my face breaks the cold night air, and the chlorine stings my eyes. “Law …”
He shoves me down again. I reach up and claw at his arm, watching the blood fill the water from my nails tearing his skin. My hair covers my face, and my arms feel out for anything to grip. My chest tightens, and my lungs scream for air. I open my mouth and swallow some water.
Then he’s yanking me up again. This time, I’m choking on the water I swallowed. “Please …” I choke out. My dark hair covers most of my face, and I can’t see him anymore. He shoves me away.
Frantically, I swim over to the edge, spitting water out of my mouth. I grip the side of the pool and go to push myself up, but he grabs my hair and yanks me back to his front. “Please,” I beg, trying to reach out for the edge, but it’s just out of reach.
He lowers his lips to my ear. “You’re dirty, little doll. I’m going to clean you.”
Then he shoves me under again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DAX MONROE
“WHERE THE FUCK are we going, man?” I ask Rellik, checking my watch. No doubt Law is getting his ass kicked right now.
“It’s just up here,” he says, shining his flashlight ahead.
My shoes step on leaves and twigs as we walk the back property line. “You better be right, or we’ve wasted a lot of time.” There was no way we could drive back here in the G-Wagon, and we didn’t have a four-wheeler or any kind of UTV to get back this far. We’ve had to do it all by foot, and it’s fucking dark as shit. The thick trees hide any visibility of the sky from us. Not like that would help much anyway since it’s fucking nighttime. But we can’t even see the buildings from back here. Death Valley covers five hundred acres, and the academy sits at the front of the property.
“I’m sure.” He grunts out. “It’s … right up here.” He lifts his flashlight ahead of us, and I see a set of stone stairs.
“What the fuck?” I breathe. “Why are there stairs all the way out here?” I wonder.
“They used these bunker-like rooms for extra storage for supplies,” he states.
I follow him up the ten stairs, and we come to the top platform. Shining my flashlight ahead, I see more steps, but they go down, leading you underground into what looks like a tunnel. There’s a large concrete overhead retaining wall above it and on both sides. And on it with spray paint, it reads Welcome to hell.
“This is promising,” I mumble.
“Come on.” He rushes down the stairs, and I do the same, having to duck once inside. The ceiling is really low.
“Is that water I hear?”
“It’s the river that runs along the property.” His voice echoes through the dark tunnel.
It sounds like a faucet dripping in a sink in the damp, cramped space. We come to an opening, and we shine our lights around. “There are three ways we can go,” I growl. Straight ahead, to the left, and then to the right.
“Split up,” he states and runs forward.
“Guess I’ll go right.”
I shine my light along the narrow concrete walls and see all the graffiti written by kids over the years. It’s eerily quiet down here. I can’t hear the water dripping anymore, but I do hear something. I come to a stop, shutting off my flashlight and holding my breath. I listen, trying to block out my other senses and see where it’s coming from. It sounds like water. But not like the dripping noise I heard earlier.
A scream rips through the tunnel, coming from ahead of me. But it stops just as quickly. Turning my light back on, I run down the tunnel and come to a door. It’s an old wooden door that has red spray paint saying stay out and turn around. It has multiple strike plates, in various places up and down the door, but no padlocks currently locking it. Looking down at the floor, I see light coming from it. This has to be it.