Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“What about Peter?” I glanced at our comatose friend. “We can’t shoot him while he’s borderline dead.”
Mollie nodded and pinned her brown eyes on Henri. “I agree with Ily. Just shoot us. Make every bullet count. But leave Peter alone.”
Henri merely nodded.
And then, he let fire.
The canister held far more rounds than I could’ve counted. His aim stayed accurate as he worked his way down each girl’s legs and then shot at their shoulders and arms. At the end, he shot once…directly at their bullseye. They staggered back in matching pain, but at least he hadn’t shot anywhere in their soft middles.
Who was this ice-cold man who moved like rigor mortis had set in, yet had the foresight not to hurt unnecessarily?
I wished Kyle had been that considerate.
Every organ throbbed. My liver and kidneys, stomach and womb. Perfectly round bruises swelled and grew hotter the deeper night fell.
Tossing the empty gun at Mollie, Henri muttered, “Bring that with us.” Then he strode toward the eviscerated corpse that used to be Kyle and hauled him over his shoulder like a dead deer.
My eyes widened as he headed toward the hidden exit where the other Masters had gone.
He disappeared, leaving the three of us to blink in exhaustion and try to figure out our next step.
I couldn’t get a read on him.
I daren’t ask him if he’d suddenly switched back to our side.
When he came back, minus a body, and headed toward the other Master he’d dispatched with a log to his head, he ordered, “Stay here.”
Those two words ignited a fire within us.
We didn’t listen.
All three of us fell into helping.
Henri staggered with his own injuries and exhaustion but didn’t order us to stop as Rachel and Mollie took a dead Master’s arm, and I helped Henri with the legs.
Silently, we’d carried the Master, slung like a hammock, out of the cave via a civilised tunnel and heaved our way up rough-hewn stairs that hinted the open-top cave was known and used, even if its wild appearance said otherwise.
Every step cost me.
Every shallow, painful breath not nearly enough for my winded, wounded frame.
I existed purely in the numbing shock of adrenaline.
At the top, we cut through the sparse trees and ended up at the cliffs.
Down below, the angry tide frothed and crashed.
Dusk had well and truly become night, and the half-moon granted just enough light to catch Henri’s nod. Without a word, we all joined in the rhythmic swing as we gathered up enough momentum to toss the body over the side.
We let go.
The body went sailing through the air.
No splash.
No sign he’d fallen.
Henri raked both hands through his blood-soaked hair, looked at the moon with a heavy exhale, then slowly led us back to the cave.
Peter lay in a small puddle of moonlight, looking as if this wasn’t just a resting spot but his new grave.
None of us said a word as Henri stumbled, righted himself, then headed toward Peter. His shoulders sagged with tiredness; his arm oozed with blood.
He towered over Peter with hands fisted and an unreadable black look. He studied my friend for so long, I feared he meant to dispatch him and leave him there.
Worry crawled up my spine.
If he means to kill him…
Both Rachel and I darted forward and barricaded ourselves in front of him. “What are you doing?”
He blinked as if the answer was obvious even though he didn’t speak.
Pushing us aside, Henri ducked to his haunches, gathered Peter’s unconscious limbs, and hoisted him into his arms.
My heart squeezed.
Hope, delicious hope.
All the pressure, the pain, and the fear of the day threatened to become too much as I witnessed a man who’d willingly bullied this jewel. A Master who’d judged him, ridiculed him, and been jealous of him—cradle him close as if he was a brother.
Tears stung my eyes as Henri swayed a little before clutching Peter closer to his chest.
Peter’s head flopped back, his shoulders supported by Henri’s arm and his legs draped over another.
Was Henri helping him because of tactic and schemes? Did he do this to stay in Victor’s good graces? Or was he helping because none of this was right? All of this was wrong. So very, very wrong.
And…he’d participated.
Silently, we followed him as he carried Peter out through the tunnel and up the stairs. I’d left the knife tucked discreetly behind a rock, aware the guards would steal it the moment I stepped foot into the stronghold.
Every instinct ordered me not to go back there, but…what choice did we have?
Enter with Henri as our reigning winner and trust him to keep us safe or…risk our lives by swimming.
Krish would never forgive me if I drowned.
No one spoke as we padded silently through the forest, climbing higher and higher, following the same paths we’d sprinted down this morning.
Every day since I’d arrived here, the hours had defied the usual length of a normal trip around the sun. It felt as if I’d been a prisoner for years, yet that journey through the woods felt like it lasted an eternity.