Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
As much as I hate to admit it, the annoying little voice isn't wrong. I should have talked to Sheriff Armstrong when he was searching the woods for me today, but I didn't. I didn't want him taking me home.
Home. Do I even have one of those anymore? I don't know. I doubt it. My father left the house to her, and everything else to me. She hates me for it. If she could kill me herself, she would. I know because she's already tried.
I trip, crashing to the hard ground with a muffled cry. I try to put my hands out to catch myself, but only manage to jab myself with a stick. The breath rushes from my lungs.
I roll to my side, curling into a ball to make myself as small and invisible as possible. Hopefully, if I just stay still and quiet enough, they'll run right past me.
And then I can circle back and get Bear and Dizzy and the rest of the crew and go...somewhere. I don't know. Maybe the MC in town can help protect me. I've heard that they do that sometimes.
"Aneira, please wait!" one of the men shouts from behind me. His deep, growling voice is oddly soothing. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help you!"
Yeah, right. Help lead me right back home where I'll undoubtedly fall down the stairs to my untimely demise for real this time.
I still remember the feel of my stepmother's hands on my back as she tried to shove me down them last time. And the hatred in her eyes. Somehow, I escaped. I don't think I'll be so lucky again.
Bear's angry barking fades and then stops altogether. I sob despite myself, tears streaming down my face. If they hurt him or Dizzy...
Please, be okay. Please.
"This entire area will be crawling with the men your stepmother sent soon!" Mr. Deep Voice calls. "If we don't get you out of here before then, we may not be able to get you out at all."
A flashlight beams across the tangle of trees to the right. I freeze, fear clawing its way through me.
What if he's telling the truth?
What if he isn't?
Indecision rattles my brain, pounding like the first signs of a migraine. Or maybe that's the exhaustion, terror, and twenty-three days of living in a hut in the woods with nothing but a pack of stray dogs for company. I don't know.
If Delilah didn't send these men, who are they?
"Nature and I aren't what you'd call friends, little one," Mr. Deep Voice calls, his voice drawing closer even though I don't hear any movement. The beam of light slowly closes the gap, though. "If I have to shoot my way out of here, it's not likely to end well for us."
My stomach trembles. I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him that he should leave then. He wants me to respond to give away my position. I'm not falling for it.
"I know your stepmother wants to kill you," he says, his voice softer…angrier. He's right on top of me now, not even five feet from where I lay. "I swear to you, I won't allow that to happen. Making sure she pays is my new goal in life, Aneira."
For some reason, I think he means it. But I don't know why. What did she do to him to make him so angry that he'd risk his life to save mine?
His flashlight beam falls on me.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he whispers, stepping into my line of sight.
The bushes to the right rustle, momentarily distracting us both.
"No!" I cry, leaping up in horror as tiny little Quack races out of the trees like a streak of lightning, placing himself between me and Mr. Deep Voice.
Rosy, Shaman, Sloth, and even shy little Rabbit come pouring out of the woods too. They surround me, forcing Mr. Deep Voice back a step.
Only then do I get a good look at him. Holy wow. There's a reason why women in movies always fall for the bad guys. It's because the bad guys in movies always look like this man. He's gorgeous in a mercenary kind of way. Everything about him is dark, from his hair to his eyes to his aura. The wicked curve to his full lips and the tattoos all over his throat and arms screams trouble.
"Easy, killer," he mutters, holding up his hands as Shaman growls a vicious warning, his ears laid back and the scruff around his neck ruffled. His dark eyes come to me over Shaman's head. "How many dogs do you have?"
"Seven." I bite my lip. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that. Technically, they aren't mine. I think I'm more theirs than anything. They found me out here and decided to make me part of their pack. "Please don't hurt them."