Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
She rolls away from my touch with a surprised grunt, but doesn't wake.
“For fuck's sake, wake up.” This time I shake her.
“Whu—what?” Her eyes pop open and fix on me in wide surprise. She screams and pushes backwards on the cot until her back is flush with the wall, and still she keeps kicking her legs like she's trying to push her way through to the next room. Her breath is coming in panicked gasps.
Fuck.
“Jesus, relax. You had a nightmare.” I take a step back and hold my hands up like it's her turn to have a gun trained on me. I can't do much about my size, but maybe she'll understand I'm not that kind of guy. Just a kidnapping kind of guy.
Fine, I get why she fucking worries.
“It was a dream, and it sounded like it sucked. You were kicking and yelling in your sleep.”
She blinks. I guess that's progress.
“Seriously. Fuck, I wasn't trying to mess around with you. Believe it or not, I've got fucking standards.”
Finally, her shoulders slump as she relaxes against the wall. Her breathing eases. She looks around. “Where's my blanket?”
I pick it up off the floor and hand it to her. “You kicked it off.”
When she takes it, our fingers touch and she yanks her hand away. With a sigh, I step back again. “I'm trouble. We all are. But this time, it was just a fucking nightmare. Sorry for trying to help.”
She pulls the blanket close and burrows into it like it can protect her, but her eyes keep following me. No longer wide and surprised, now they're narrow and angry. “You abducted me from my house. You put a freaking gun to my head,” she seethes. “Why should I trust you?”
“Honestly, you probably shouldn't. But I know a thing or two about bad dreams. I'm not heartless.” Why do I even care what she thinks of me? Once her dad gives in to our demands, she's out of here, and no matter how I treat her, I'm going to be the big bad wolf in this story. But for someone who struggles with their own demons at night, I didn't think a bit of sympathy was so fucking out of place. “But I'll leave you in peace. You're awake now. Do whatever you want.”
“So I can go home then?”
“If you're comfortable getting sassy, I can only imagine you're starting to feel better. Settle down, get used to it.” I turn to return to my chair for the rest of my watch, feeling the stabs of the daggers she's no doubt glaring into my back.
I've got this weird sensation, almost like an itch, and it's telling me this girl is going to be more trouble than I've figured.
11
EMILY
I lie awake for a long time. I don't want to go back to sleep. Not to my nightmares, and not while King is awake and watching me. He's by far the scariest of the three of them, even more than Wild Child. But when I glance in his direction, his head is dropped and his breathing slow and even.
He's asleep?
Is this an opportunity?
What will they do if I try to run? They have to be expecting it, but that doesn't mean I won't take an opportunity when I see one.
Quietly, carefully, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. The creak feels like a gunshot in the quiet room. I hold my breath and wait for him to catch me, but he doesn't move. In the dark, it's hard to make out his features, but when he's just sitting there, asleep, he seems—not vulnerable exactly—but more at peace. He said he knew what nightmares were like, but I don't think he's having one now.
I could steal his gun.
No. I wouldn't know how to use it, and if it goes off I'd be in so much trouble. I'm better off just making a run for it. I just want to get home where it's safe.
Safe?
I need to get out of here, at least. Maybe dad is a little too free with his fists, but at home, there isn't a crazed slut looking to slit my throat.
Priorities.
I move towards the door. With another quick glance over my shoulder at King, I twist the knob. There's a soft click, but he doesn't stir. If he wakes up, I could just claim to have to pee, at least for as long as I'm still in the clubhouse.
Let's see how far I can get.
The hall is quiet, and all the lights are out. No cheering in the common room, no clinking of bottles or sounds of sex. No barking boxer pup. Swallowing down the thick lump in my throat, I put one foot in front of the other, convinced someone's about to jump me.
But there's no one, so I hurry. A man-shaped lump is sprawled out on one of the couches in the common room, but it's snoring. The whole clubhouse seems to be asleep. Did they not set a watch?