Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
I nodded once. He took a step back and then turned on his heel, silently leaving the house. I sighed and grabbed a bottle of water out of the pack I found sitting on the kitchen floor before heading to the other, smaller bedroom to get some rest and figure out what to do with Clarke and Beck tomorrow so they could begin settling in and be free again.
I would do everything I could for them. And even though I knew it would hurt to eventually let them go, when it was safe to do so, I would release them back into the world.
I had to.
Sighing, I reclined back against the comfortable pillows on the bed and crossed my arms over my chest, my feet crossing at the ankles. I shut my eyes, allowing myself to finally fall asleep.
But sleep didn’t last long.
Because a piercing scream ripped through the air. A scream that chilled me to my core. A scream that was full of horror and pain and trauma.
Clarke.
8
Clarke
The air was cloying with the overpowering scent of disinfectant, but right beneath it, I could smell sweat and blood and cum. My stomach rolled, sweat breaking out over my skin. I thought I’d been saved. That big man, Tank—he’d come to my rescue. He’d saved all of us. He’d even saved Beck.
So, why was I here again? Why was I back in this room?
I tugged on my wrists, which were above my head, a distressed moan rolling up my throat when I realized they were bound again.
This couldn’t be happening again. I couldn’t be back here.
Panic clawed at my throat, constricting my airways. My lungs screamed for air, and my heart threatened to slam through my breastbone. Tears streaked down my cheeks, a sob tearing through my throat and past my lips.
Beck was dragged into the room, his wrists and ankles bound. His face was bruised and bloody, his eyes swollen shut. Some of his luscious, blonde hair was missing, ripped from his scalp. Blood ran in rivulets down his skin, but even still, he smiled at me as if he wasn’t in pain. As if he wasn’t damn near on his deathbed.
“Beck,” I sobbed.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s all going to be okay. He’s coming for you, I promise.”
“Beck!” I screamed when the barrel of a gun was shoved into his mouth. I sobbed, tugging on my restraints, more screams tearing through my abused throat. “BECK!” I screeched.
The gunshot was deafening. Blood splattered all over the man who shot Beck as Beck’s brain matter exploded from the back of his skull. I choked on my vomit, my horror, and then, I was screaming again—pure anguished, terrified, painful screams.
“Clarke!” I jerked awake, staring up at Beck. His face was a mere inch from mine, his arms banded tight around me as he shook me. The moment he saw my eyes were open, he breathed a sigh of relief and crushed me to his chest, his tattooed arms cinching tightly around me.
The door to the room we were in slammed open, Tank’s looming, huge frame rushing into the room, his gun in his hand. He was still in the clothes he’d been in on the way here, but they were rumpled, and his eyes were wild, like I’d somehow woken him up.
Guilt swirled in my chest, mixing with the terror and agony already burning me there.
“Clarke?” he rasped, shoving his gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back.
I sobbed then, breaking down and wailing into Beck’s chest. His arms trembled around me, and a moment later, I felt the bed dip with Tank’s weight. I could barely breathe as I clawed at Beck’s shirt, trying to get beneath the fabric to his bare skin as if I could somehow claw my way into his chest.
“Clarke, sweetheart—” Beck croaked, his voice cracking.
“Give her here,” Tank gently ordered.
I wailed again when Beck handed me over, but then Tank was holding me on his lap, my legs straddling his thighs. He banded his thick, muscular arms around me and gently rocked me side to side. “Just breathe, little one,” he said softly, his breath making my hair brush my cheeks. “Put your hands over my chest and feel my breaths. Feel my steady heart rate, little one. It’s okay now. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you or Beck again. I swear on my life. Just feel my breaths.”
I did as he instructed, my palms pressing into the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath my palms, his breaths deep and sure. I focused on that through my own shaky breaths, through the panic swarming in my head. And slowly—so fucking slowly—I began to calm down, my tears slowing to a more steady flow.