Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
With broken anger.
“I don’t know his name,” I say, and I realize how bad that sounds.
“How can you not know his name?”
“He made sure I never knew it, or him, or where I was. He was always just...master...to me. I didn’t even know my own name, until...you.”
I can see his jaw flex with the rage he’s holding inside.
He wants blood.
And if I matter as much as he says I do, then I guess I understand why.
I lived ten years in hell, but, if what he’s saying is true, so did he.
“What do you know, Ellie? Gotta have something to go off. Something.”
“When I escaped, there was someone who helped me. His name was Riley. I don’t know if that was his real name, but he helped me get free. He might be the only person who would know his name.”
“That’s somethin’. How does he know where to look?”
“He knows where I come from. I guess he assumed I’d come back. He guessed right. It won’t take him long to find me...”
I trail off, and a shiver runs up my spine at the very thought of him finding me.
“He’s not goin’ to find you, Ellie,” Slater says, standing up and stalking towards me so fast I don’t have time to move. His big hand curls around my shoulder and I try to pull back, flinching. “I swear to you,” he goes on, “He will not find you.”
“P-p-p-please let me go.”
He immediately removes his hand, stepping back. “You don’t trust me.”
Now he’s hurt.
This is exactly what I didn’t want.
My mind spins for an answer that makes sense, something to make him feel better, but I have nothing.
“Okay,” Erin says, stepping outside.
She must have been listening.
I can’t say I blame her.
“She’s given you what you need for now, we’ll be in contact if she has anything else.”
Slater stares at her, well, more glares, and then looks to me. “Got a watch on your house, on your bakery. If you see anyone with an Iron Fury patch, they’re safe. They’re good. Until we know more, that’s the best we can do. If you remember anything, fuckin’ anything at all, you can find me at the clubhouse.”
I nod, swallowing.
He walks towards the darkness of the front yard, stopping and turning just before he does. “And Ellie?”
I meet his eyes.
“Don’t go to my brother again. I’m the one who searched. I’m the one who broke. I’m the one who lived in fuckin’ agony for ten years. So, I’m the one who will end this for you. Who will fix it. At the very least, give me that.”
Then he disappears.
Leaving me speechless.
~*~*~*~
THEN – SLATER
“Slater!”
My father roars from the bathroom, and a ragged groan leaves my throat. He’s sick. Getting worse with every passing second. I don’t want to help him anymore. Hell, there are days I’ve wished he would just die. But the moment that thought enters my head, I feel fuckin’ awful. He’s my father. He’s like this because we lost mom. I have to remind myself of that.
Even on the days I just wish the world would rid me of him.
I angrily toss my phone down and walk up the stairs to the bathroom where he’s bellowing from. I step in, and come to a complete pause. There’s blood everywhere. All over the floor, and smeared around his mouth. I know even before he looks at me with horror striken eyes, that he’s vomiting blood. I also know, that is not good.
I move quickly, grabbing a towel and throwing it down onto the vomit. I grab another one and grab hold of his head, wiping at his mouth. He makes a gargling sound, and starts vomiting again. Sprays of it spew out across the floor and all over me. He needs an ambulance. He needs a hospital.
“Damon!” I bellow.
Nothing.
Fuck.
“Damon!” I roar.
Still nothing.
Dad starts shaking.
I have to call for help, but I can’t do that if he’s going to choke on his own vomit while I go and get my phone.
Suddenly, Ellie is beside me.
I don’t even know where she came from.
Or what the hell she’s doing in my house.
But she’s here, towel in hand, gently cradling my dad’s head and pressing the towel over his mouth, before her beautiful eyes meet mine. “Go and call for help. I’ve got him.”
I stare at her.
She stares at me.
Then I stand and run. I find my phone, and call for help, before returning back to Ellie. She’s whispering to my father, soft words of comfort. She doesn’t care that she’s probably going to get covered in blood if he spews again, she doesn’t care that he’s so drunk he’s crying in her arms, she just hangs onto him, offering the kind of comfort none of us boys could ever give him.
And maybe that’s exactly what he needs.
“Help is coming,” I say, staring at my father, and truly feeling at a loss as to what is best for him now.