Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
With that one sentence that came out of my mouth, I sealed Nic’s fate, and I don’t know how to deal with that. Yes, he’s an awful man, a liar, and a killer, but he’s also my Nic. I thought maybe they’d go ahead with a little torture to make him feel really sorry for what he did, but not this. I never wanted to be the reason so many lives were lost, both Widows and Wolves.
What have I done?
Not only have I brought this bullshit down on Sebastian, Elijah, and Kairo, but I’ve also sealed my own fate. Russo will never let me go. I have a slim to none chance of getting out of this, and after the attack goes down, that slim chance will only get smaller.
Glancing around the Wolf Den, I see my future. This is my home now, not with Colton and not with the Widows.
What am I going to tell my mother? Not only do I have to tell her that my rapist got me pregnant, but I have to tell her that I came running in here without really thinking it through. All I knew was that I had to end Nic’s bullshit before I brought a baby into the world.
She’s never going to forgive me. She’ll understand the whole baby thing even though it will destroy her, but deciding to go to Russo? Yeah, that’s going to sting. She’s going to feel betrayed, and she’s going to hurt for the future that I won’t be able to have. College and a happy, safe life with Colton? I can kiss that goodbye.
There has to be a silver lining here somewhere. I just have to find it.
I turn in my seat and watch the den around me just as I’ve been doing since I walked out of that meeting five hours ago. I’ve seen at least three fights, one that ended with a glass bottle being shattered, and a man nearly bleeding out on the ground. Judging by the way everyone just sat around and watched, I'd dare say this bullshit is a regular occurrence. The whole scene threw me back to being in that wine cellar with Jude. I was the raging lunatic with the smashed bottle in my hand, and to be honest, I really could have done without that reminder today. I’ve already got enough on my plate.
I’ve watched two men bring a girl through the doors and then get her off in the corner of the room, though thankfully, she appeared to be a willing participant. I’ve seen some loser with a needle, shooting himself up at the other end of the bar and then passing out twenty minutes later. But the best of all was when four guys came running through the door, each with a duffle bag, dropping them to the ground to take inventory. I don't know what they were expecting, but the stacks of cash, jewelry, and weapons seemed to surprise them.
I noticed the man who helped save me from Leon when I first got here hasn’t stepped out of my sight, it’s the only thing reassuring me that I might just get out of this alive. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not sitting beside me, and we’re not playing footsies under the bar. He's keeping his distance while silently letting me know that he’ll have my back if shit goes south, and I think I need that more than I could ever fully understand. I don’t even know his name, but I appreciate him. I plan on making it my mission to get to know him, just not tonight. Tonight is completely reserved for freaking out, panicking, and hating myself for making ridiculous, spur of the moment decisions.
This is my life now.
One foot out of place, and I’m a dead woman. Not to mention all the wandering eyes I’ve had to avoid over the past few hours. Scarface was put in his place, but new guys keep coming who have no idea who I am. It’s only a matter of time before someone tries something again.
I hate the feeling of not being safe. I had everything with Colton. I should have just gone home and let him handle Nic like he said he would, but the thought of having him up against Nic makes me sick. If something was to happen to him? Fuck, I couldn’t handle it. At least if one of these guys were to get hurt going against the Widows, I wouldn’t feel so bad about it.
Maybe I have made the right decision …
“Here,” a voice says from behind me. I swivel around in my barstool just in time to see the bartender slam a shot glass down in front of me. He instantly fills it up with a clear liquid that I'm not exactly sure I know the name of. It could be vodka or it could be fucking acid for all I know. “You look like you could use a drink. The soda you’ve been sipping on clearly hasn’t been doing the job.”