Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Rape was a weapon used against women in so many different ways.
It was one that could be used against me.
Sure, that was why I had to train harder, be better, but that didn't guarantee anything. Something could always go wrong.
Short of wearing a chastity belt, there seemed to be no way of ensuring it would never happen.
A bit uncomfortably, I cleared my throat, willing my voice to come out stronger than it felt as it built inside me. "What does... why does my virginity have anything to do with it?"
"Christ," he growled, raking a hand down his face. "Didn't you have some sex education or some shit back home?"
My mother had called in two ladies from our town—Fiona who owned a local phone sex operating business, and Autumn who owned the local adult toy store—and let the experts and some of my aunts give me all the details. I knew more about sex than I cared to know at thirteen. But no one could say I wasn't well informed. My mom had been sure that knowledge about sex was power, it enabled me to make smart decisions about it, instead of jumping into it too young because of pure curiosity.
If a fact existed about sex, I knew it.
They'd even given me a little gift bag of toys so I could learn to pleasure myself so I didn't think guys were the only ones who could do it.
It was all a bit over the top and incredibly embarrassing at the time. But good. I ended up giving Iggy the talk because her parents refused to have any kind of frank and honest conversations about sex with her, believing it was still reasonable to expect everyone to wait until marriage.
"Yes, I had sex talks. I am fully aware of all the mechanics. And everything else," I admitted, chin lifting a little, daring him to question me.
"Then you know what a first time is often like."
That was the one place where my aunts all had differing experiences. Some had excruciating pain, others just a little discomfort, some no pain at all. But the general consensus was it wasn't super pleasant the first time or two.
"Yes," I agreed.
"Look. Just fucking look," he said, turning back to me, planting his giant fists on the table across from me, completely drawing me, pinning me with his dark eyes. "Your first time should be given, not taken. Okay? That is all I am going to say about it.I am going to be there for your first mission. I am going to make sure shit doesn't happen to you. No matter the cost. But when you are on your own, kid..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, making his way to the door. "Just something to think about," he added. "Be ready at dusk," he finished, moving outside, door grumbling closed as he hit the button.
He was right.
It was something I needed to think about.
But not right then.
Right then, I needed to focus.
Because it was my eighteenth birthday.
And Holden's way to celebrate was to take me on our first mission.
I had a little hand in the researching. He'd brought a laptop into the garage one day, firing it up, opening up a dark web browser, and showing me how to find the scumbags.
And find them, I did.
So, so, so many scumbags.
My head hurt just thinking about it. About all the women and kids who were out there suffering. About the fact that no matter how hard I worked, I couldn't save them all.
I could, though, save some.
So Holden and I chose an operation as our target.
We spent weeks researching the players, finding locations.
And then we trained harder as we waited for me to be officially of age.
So that if I landed in a hospital, no one could call my parents. Or even if I got caught and locked up.
It was time.
Tonight was the night.
We were going in.
I had taken a life.
One life.
My grandmother's.
With a gun.
Holden wouldn't even let me hold one of his guns. He told me that since we wouldn't be able to use them on missions, there was no reason for me to 'play around with' them.
We trained with sharp and blunt instruments.
And he constantly drilled it into my head that taking a life with a bullet was a detached kill. And that taking a life with a blade was close and intimate. It would be different. I would be different.
Not having any experience, I couldn't contradict him. So I steeled myself. I reminded myself all the evil things they had did, how they had shown the women they captured no mercy. And that they deserved none from me.
I would be changed maybe.
But I had already changed so much.
The idea of more didn't scare me like it once might have.
If anything, I was ready to make the full transition.