Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Finding a brutalized Remy and his family felt like a one-off. Outside of that horror, our home was a safe place to be.
But these murdered campers feels like we’ve got company again.
“Probably a drifter,” Jax suggests. “No one in Brigs Ferry Bay is capable of such violence.”
Everyone is capable of violence.
The sheriff is incredibly naïve.
“We could call in the state police again,” Brie says, perking my interest. “They were helpful last time.”
“Last time?” I frown at Jax.
“Hate crimes,” he explains with a fierce scowl. “The offender has been apprehended and brought to justice.” He studies the mutilated bodies again. “They were useful in getting him moved to a better holding facility but not the investigation itself. Brie and I handled that.”
“Your two-man police force going to be able to find out who did this?” I ask, my brow lifted in disbelief. Not that I want them bringing in the state police, but I find it surprising they’re not jumping at that opportunity.
“Technically one man,” Brie sasses, her blond ponytail swishing behind her. “And one woman.”
Jax smirks but then grimaces at the scene before him. “Brie, get a hold of Atlas, will you?”
“You really think he’s up for the job?” she grumbles and then sighs. “He was injured overseas fighting a war he never should have gone to. I’m not sure I can make that man do anything he doesn’t want to.”
“If I know your brother, he’s going stir crazy unable to do anything. We don’t need him to physically chase after the perp, we just need him to help us find him. At least try. It’d be good to have him back.” Jax glances my way. “You know these woods like the back of your hand. See if you can’t find anyone who’s seen anything. Email me a list of all the campers who’ve booked reservations in the past month, including these two. Until we catch this psychopath, Brie and I will alternate running patrols at night at Red Hake Campground. If you have anyone you trust to also volunteer their time, get them on it. Double our efforts. But don’t do anything stupid. If you see something, call me, and the BFPD will handle the situation.”
I’m not completely sold on the assurance they can handle it when they can barely keep from gagging at the sight of the two bodies, but I keep my trap closed.
“Thanks, Sheriff. Now get these bodies out of my woods already.”
He gives me a clipped nod before calling the coroner. “Let’s keep this quiet. The last thing I need is panic in our town. What they don’t know won’t hurt them at this point. However, the second they hear about this, it’ll be gossip all over town, and we’ll be flooded with unhelpful information.”
His tired expression tells me he speaks from experience.
I tip my head at them. “We’ll find out who did this.”
“We have to,” Jax grits out. “Too many people we love and are tasked with protecting for us not to.”
Flashes of finding Remy on the brink of death are a sucker punch to my gut.
We’ll find this killer.
We have to.
I’ll be damned if I let him touch a hair on Remy’s head.
Years ago, I made him a promise. To protect him with my life. I absolutely will.
Remy
The anger consumes me these days to the point I can barely see. Blackness clouds my vision. Flames of hatred lick at my flesh. Pain and grief morph into an overwhelming need to seek revenge.
For them.
Mom and Hope.
I used to push them to the back of my mind, trying like hell to forget that night. To block out the horrors of what that thing did to my sister and mother. To me. I’d thought I’d successfully trapped all my emotions away inside a cage in my mind. But, lately, it rattles to be set free. I’m barely keeping it there.
A sigh of frustration escapes me. It’s a ragged, raspy sound that grates on my nerves. Everything pisses me off lately. Myself. Them. Him.
Cyrus Hames is my keeper.
My boss.
Warden to my prison.
I hate him.
Not like the monster who stole so much from me. In a different sort of way. I hate him for finding me—for not letting me die with them. For forcing me to live a life filled with emptiness and pain. I once was a talkative child, much to my mother’s playful annoyance, but that night changed everything. I blocked out what I could to preserve my sanity. I haven’t spoken a word since.
Not by choice.
No, the thing that attacked us made that decision for me when he tried to rip my throat out. As if I’m thrust back to that night, the scarred flesh burns with such agony tears spring in my eyes. It’s difficult to keep myself walled and shut off from the invasion of my pack, but I’ve been practicing more lately. If they sense I’m hurting, they’ll all run to me, hovering to fix it, as if they can pluck the terrible memories right from my brain.