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)
"You," Reign said, ignoring West, pinning me instead.
"Yeah?"
"You and my girl, you always got along well."
"Ah, yeah."
"And you've been keeping an eye on her since she showed up."
"Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late night snacks," West declared, making it clear I did have to worry about him and what he might say.
Reign, thankfully, seemed too worried about his little girl to pay West any mind. "I think she's going off on a job."
"I think so too," I agreed.
"I don't want her to go alone," he told me. "And I got a feeling she isn't about to let me tag along."
He wanted me to follow her into the home or workplace of a human trafficker and help her murder people?
"You know, Prez," West cut in, either seeing my thoughts on my face, or simply thinking them himself since he knew me better than most, "think maybe that is more my forte than his."
"Yeah, 'cause that's what I want: two reckless kids on the same job."
I didn't bother to remind him that both West and I were the same age. "Besides, you barely know her. Vance cares about her. Got a history there. He'd be the one to make sure she got out without a scratch."
"He's not exactly had the kind of..." West tried again. Not because he wanted to show off, to get on Reign's good side. But because he genuinely didn't know if I had what it took to kill people in that sort of situation.
To be fair, I wasn't sure I did either.
But I did know one thing.
Reign was right.
I would do anything to keep Ferryn safe.
"I'll do it," I agreed, nodding, already getting to my feet.
"Yo," West called, reaching into his boot, coming back with a pretty deadly looking hunting knife. "She won't let you use a gun. You're going to have to settle for this."
"Thanks, man," I told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, taking the knife, slipping it into my pocket.
"Take off the cut. And don't take your eyes off my girl," Reign demanded.
I slipped off my cut, took a deep breath, and made my way outside.
I could certainly follow those instructions.
I didn't want to take my eyes off her anyway.
Eleven
Ferryn - Present Day
"No," I called, already hearing his footsteps behind me.
It could have been my father. Or West. But, somehow, I knew it was him.
"No, what?"
"No, you're not going to talk me out of it," I told him, reaching for my helmet.
"I'm not going to try to talk you out of it," he assured me, but there was something in his voice that told me I shouldn't trust him. But I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Especially because I had never known Vance to be anything other than trustworthy. He wasn't a liar. It wasn't his way. He always told you the truth. Even if it was ugly.
"Well... good," I said, watching as he moved two bikes over, reaching for his own helmet.
"Well, where are we headed?"
We?
"We aren't heading anywhere. I am heading somewhere. You are staying here."
"Afraid not, Ace," he told me, shaking his head.
"You're not coming with me."
"Actually, I kind of am."
"No, you're not. Go back inside. Are you out of your mind?"
"Well, see. I have to come."
"My father is making you, isn't he?" I asked, eyes getting small.
A part of me, the newer part of me, the part of me that felt like she could handle everything on her own and didn't need anybody or anything, wanted to be annoyed about it. The other part, though, the part that was raised by a loving and often lenient father who not only tolerated, but enjoyed my often rebellious ways, couldn't find any anger about it.
Of course he wanted me safe.
Especially now that he knew what I had been up to all these years.
I should have known it was coming. My mother may have been the sort to let things slide so as not to create conflict. My father, though, was not the same way. He wanted answers. And what he wanted, he got.
There was no way he was going to let it slide that I had been gone for nearly nine years, I was covered in scars, and I was colder and more guarded.
I guess I had a false sense of security because literally no one else asked. I wasn't sure if it was because they were happy to see me and wanted to fill me in on the goings-on in their lives, or if my mother had reached out to them and told them to mind their P's and Q's. But no one had asked, let alone demanded, my story.
I guess my father had always been pretty damn good at playing his cards close to his vest.
And, honestly, of all people, I was worried about telling him the least. Well, him and some of my uncles. Wolf, Pagan, Edison, and Adler in particular likely wouldn't even raise a brow to the information. They'd all led such colorful lives, had seen and done some terrible things. And I guess you could say the same for my father.