Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Forgiveness wasn’t in my future, at least not that I could see.
It all went back to that day.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “We’ll fix this.”
You tried, Phoenix, in the only way you knew how.
And now it was my turn to do the fixing.
“I don’t like this,” Ash said again.
“Well.” I patted him on the shoulder then squeezed. “Welcome to the mafia, right?”
“Damn mafia.” Junior sighed. “Just give us a call when you’re safe.”
“Yup.” I gave him a quick hug and then Ash.
They didn’t see my hands shake with bitter anger.
Could they sense the loss of this clinging in the air? The loss of us? Could they tell that I was walking out of here, but I would never be walking back in.
I poked my head in the kitchen. “Hey, Serena, I’m gonna take off.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re pale.”
“Thank you?”
Something changed in her stance, and then she was walking over to me and pulling me into her arms. “Violet’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
I sighed; she had no idea how badly I needed to hear that. “Thanks, Serena, you’ll always be my favorite.”
“Back at ya.” She winked.
King was back downstairs with Maksim and Izzy. I gave them both side hugs, probably freaking them out, and then I met King’s eyes, and I knew he knew.
He fucking knew.
“No.” He shook his head. “No.”
“King—”
“You promised me!”
Tears filled my eyes. “I’ve been given no choice.”
“You promised!” he roared.
And then he was throwing punches, and I was holding him in my arms, keeping him close even as he beat me and sobbed against my chest.
Because he knew.
Because he was the only one I had confided in other than the other two people who knew.
Because he was the brother I’d always wanted.
The one I’d been given.
“It’s going to be okay.” My voice cracked.
“It’s the end.” He shoved me away. “It’s the end.”
“All things end, King. Just because this one came sooner than we thought—doesn’t mean we can’t—”
“Go.”
“King.”
“Go!” he thundered.
So, I went.
I walked with heavy footsteps toward the red corvette I’d parked outside. The papers were in the glovebox, my name on the title.
My clothes were in the trunk. All of them.
I started the engine and sped off before I lost my nerve.
Chapter Fourteen
Glass shattered across the stone as the prince rose from the grave and walked, muddy, shattered, toward his broken throne. The crown was heavy, the cost too steep, someone kill me before I’m in too deep. —Valerian Petrov
Ash
“That wasn’t normal behavior,” I said, more to myself than to Junior. He eyed me and then the briefcase. “Screw it.”
It wasn’t locked.
I quickly opened it and peeked inside.
All I saw was a black folder, which was, I guess, semi-normal for our family, and beneath it, a fucking white horse.
I dropped it like it was possessed. Ignoring my freak-out, Junior shakily picked up an envelope that said his name.
He ripped it open.
“Fuck!” he bellowed. “Get the keys NOW!”
Numb, I reached for the keys on the table as my eyes fell to the other picture in the briefcase.
Of Claire and me.
Smiling. Happy. Together.
“Ash!” Junior shook me with his hands. “We need to get the hell out of here now!”
“What?”
He shoved me toward the door. “I’m driving. Turn on your Find My Friend and ping his location.”
I shook out of the sickening daze of anguish and quickly found him. “He’s going north?”
“SHIT!” Junior hit the accelerator, passing cars in a blur as we made it on the freeway. “I can’t go any faster!”
“Why do we need to catch him?” I asked, trying to understand the situation without thinking about her. Thinking about her last breaths nearly took all the energy I had.
“Read.” He slammed some white papers against my chest. “It’s a goodbye letter. He’s saying goodbye like he knows he’s going to his death, and we have to stop him before something happens.”
I read over the words and suddenly felt like I was going to puke. What was so dangerous that he felt like he had to write us goodbye notes?
“Why the hell didn’t he ask for our help?” I slammed the papers down on my thigh with shaking hands, then glanced back down at my phone. “He’s taking the exit for Everett.”
“How close are we?”
“Maybe five minutes.”
They went by slowly as we tried to tail him.
“I see him!” I pointed. “Up ahead on the bridge—he’s going into the right lane—” No sooner had the words left my mouth, then that same Corvette drove straight through construction and off the bridge, falling at least sixty feet to the water below.
Cars screeched to a stop.
Junior was screaming.
So was I.
But I heard nothing.
Nothing but the sound of metal twisting metal.
No sound but the slow beat of my heart as it came up to speed with what my eyes were seeing.
The car started sinking, and somehow caught fire, which seemed impossible as it continued to sink.