Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t think of it like that,” says Dirk. “We’re all big boys. We make our own decisions. Titus is a real prick, and good on you for spurning his spoiled ass. I personally have been waiting for a chance to stick it to him, so I should actually be thanking you.”
I smile. “Thanks, Dir--”
There’s a bang on the door so loud I nearly fall over in surprise. Dirk moves to his bed and pulls a chrome-plated Blade from under his pillow. He clicks the edge free and aims the gun at the door. “Get in the back room,” he says to me quietly.
The door shakes on its hinges like it was hit with a battering ram. I hear voices outside now. Urgent, raised voices. I rush toward the back room just as gunshots ring out. I look back to see splinters exploding from the door as holes open up near the hinges. Dirk fires back into the closed door, squinting against the debris flying his way.
I close the door, pressing my back against the wood and squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh God,” I whisper. “Please be okay, Roark. Please be okay.”
More gunshots explode out from the other room. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on, except that I know Dirk is alive so long as I still hear guns firing. There’s a brief pause in the shooting and my heart lurches because I know what silence will mean. But then I hear more shooting, this time it’s less frequent though. There’s one more quick round of firing and I hear a loud thump near the door I’m hiding behind.
No more shooting. I listen closely and hear footsteps. The room I’m in has no windows. No way out. Not even anything I could conceivably use as a weapon. I remember the way they shot through the other door to get through and quickly move away from the door to slide under the bed and lie flat on my stomach.
More gunfire rings out. I see shards of wood spiral and slide across the floor as I lay beneath the bed, trying to control my breathing. I think again to Roark’s slow, confident, and steady breaths, closing my eyes and thinking of him to slow my breathing until it’s not so loud. I watch three men’s boots as they step into the room and surround the bed.
My heart pounds against the floor. They know I’m under here. It’s only a matter of--
A face appears in the narrow space between the bottom of the bed and the floor. The man sneers. “Found you, little princess.” I try to squirm away, but it’s useless. There’s a man on the other side of the bed too.
One of them grips my ankle and yanks on me, tugging me half-way out from under the bed. I claw and struggle to get back under, even if I’m only fighting for moments of freedom at this point. Another hand clamps down around my wrist, pulling me all the way out from under the bed. I’m lifted like a sack of garbage between the two men, one with my ankles and one with my wrists. My dress hikes up to my hips as they carry me and I uselessly try to cover myself, struggling to free my hands to stop these men from gawking at me.
“I see why the princes are fighting over her,” laughs one of the men.
“Think Titus would know if we had a little fun with her before we deliver her?” asks the man who walks behind the two holding me.
“Course he would,” says the man holding my wrists. “He’d cut off your cock and serve it to his fucking dogs, too. And that’s if you were lucky.”
I try again to fight free, but the man holding my wrists motions for the guard at my legs to let me down.
“She can walk, Mathis. Put her down.”
I straighten my dress, fighting back tears of humiliation and anger. I get a better look at the guard who had me put down now and see he’s older than I would’ve expected, maybe in his forties with streaks of gray at his temples. He discreetly winks to me when I catch his eye. I frown in confusion, but he looks away as the other guards move to lead me out of the small bedroom.
Dirk’s bedroom looks like a warzone. Three guards are dead around the doorway, and Dirk sits slumped against the wall clutching a wound in his stomach that’s bleeding freely. “Sorry, Princess,” he groans when we emerge. “Roark’s going to fucking kill me if this wound doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I cry out as I’m pulled through the room, nearly losing the contents of my stomach when I step in a puddle of blood. All of this because of me. Because this place wasn’t enough to keep me happy, because I was too frightened to follow through with the marriage, because I wanted more.