Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
He stumbles, putting out a hand to catch himself, but lands in an awkward ball, rolling into Astrid. She cries out under the tape over her mouth, but his momentum is like a pin falling in a bowling alley and his shoulder barrels into her face, knocking her head back at the side of the van with a clang.
And that’s when I really see red. Astrid reaches up and rips the tape from her mouth.
“Mathias, stop!”
I hear her, but it does nothing to quell my rage.
I reach past her as the other bastard scrambles towards the doors, feeling as he goes and nursing his closed eye. With a roar, I grab the knife out of his hand with ease, just as he falls out the back of the van, grunting as he hits the asphalt hard.
“No! Please!” He’s begging as he lies there, with me towering over him.
Like a gladiator bloodlust courses through my veins, mercy a foreign concept. I want him to beg for his life, and I want to take it from him, nonetheless.
With a chuckle, I jump down from the back of the van, hearing the suspension creak in relief at no longer having to support my weight. His lip is quivering as I hover over him, letting him savor his last few moments.
“Please! Stop! I didn’t want anything to do with this.” Tears run down his cheeks, drawing clear rivers in the bloody meat of his face. “I don’t want to die...”
“You’re already dead...” I mutter as heave a breath, feeling the weight of the knife in my hand as I play with it, wondering where I should cut him first.
“Mathias, no. Don’t do this.” Astrid is behind me and her voice stalls the vengeful thoughts.
Rage battles with love as I stare down at the pathetic waste of life in front of me. He doesn’t deserve mercy. She’s too gentle and kind for this world. I’ll protect her from it, even if she hates me for it.
In the distance, I hear sirens, and I know that if I don’t put him out of his misery right now, he’ll end up in cuffs and righteous justice may not be served.
I feel Astrid’s hand on my shoulder and it’s far more potent than any punch her father or this sniveling shit could throw. Then her voice, and the red rage begins to clear. “Not for him. For me.” As I turn, I see the marks on herface and blood roars in my ears.
“You’re hurt. He did it.” I growl.
She nods. “I know. But if you kill him, they’ll take you away from me. And then who will look after me?”
I reach out a hand, running a thumb over her top lip where blood is trickling from her nose.
“It’s not that bad,” she says. “Just, take me away from here. Please.”
Seething, I finally nod and put my arms around her, lifting her down from the back of the van and placing her on the ground. There’s a scrambling sound, and I turn to see her stepfather’s friend stumbling as he finds his feet and runs.
He turns back around, to check if I’m following, just as he gets to the corner of the bar, and there’s a screech of brakes, a thud, a cracking of glass, and a moment later the bastard’s on the ground with the cops crowded around him.
At first I’m not so sure he’s alive, and the irony of him surviving me only to be taken out by the town sheriff makes me start to chuckle, but then there’s a groan and someone’s reading him his rights, and it’s like a tension has been lifted.
“Thank you,” Astrid says. “I know that was hard for you. But sometimes, what’s hard for one of us will be what’s right for both of us.”
I nod, knowing she’s right. More than a few of the patrons from the bar are outside nowwatching, and as I catch the eye of the Fleming brother who was bothering Astrid a few days ago, and he starts to slink away.
Something in that glance rubs me wrong but for now there’s nothing I can do, because the Sheriff is already here.
“It was hard,” I admit. “But for you, baby, I’ll do anything.” The sheriff starts walking toward us, and I let out a sigh. “I’m going to have to deal with this. But then I’m taking you home.”
WE’RE BACK SITTING on the sofa an hour later, Astrid has a first aid kit open on the cushion next to her with Ginger curled in a ball sleeping on a pile of pillows.
“So,” She asks as she fiddles with the contents of the kit. “What’d you find out?”
She doesn’t miss much. On the way home she asked if I talked to the ‘ponytail guy’ because she noticed him taking off and then walked by the sheriff and disappeared after him. I was too worked on the way home to discuss anything until she was safe here behind our doors but it’s time to give her the details.