Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Logan then shows up carrying Kristen, who is either sleeping or knocked out. He puts her up front in the extended cab. I can’t see around the heads and stuff piled up as to how many people they have up there.
I need to get free.
If I could just grab my knife that’s hooked to my belt under my shirt, I could take some of these assholes out. Or, at the very least, cut me and my siblings free so we could run away.
No such luck.
Michael shouts something to Logan and then starts slowly moving the truck from the thick smoke that’s causing everyone to cough all around me. He stops again when he’s about fifty yards away.
There are still many people from their group missing, including CJ and Jace. I hope those idiots burned to death. Maybe Ryder killed them. Thoughts of my brother have more tears falling. What if he’s dead too?
And where the hell is Dad?
My father would have died protecting his family.
Just like Mom.
It’s hard to believe that days ago, I’d been considering a life away from my overprotective parents. Now, I long for those loud dinners where everyone talks at once and there’s never a peaceful moment. I’d give anything to be grounded again so long as it meant we could all be together, safe and alive.
Ronan groans from beside me but doesn’t wake. He’s hurt. It’d been a blur of men in the darkness of Ronan’s cabin earlier as they urged us to throw on clothes and to keep quiet. Ronan tried to fight back—to protect me, Sadie, and Destiny—but he was just one young man against several. The loud crack of a weapon against his skull plays on repeat inside my head.
Several men come running through the dark smoke, carrying bags of food and have my father’s weapons slung over their shoulders. The first to come into view is CJ. A stupid boy I kissed. If I could cut out my own tongue right now to rid the remnants of him, I would.
These people are sick and rotten to the core.
Evil bastards.
“Tie it there,” Logan orders, materializing next to CJ. “Make it tight. I don’t want him getting loose.”
Him?
Grunts can be heard nearby. Slapping of flesh like someone is getting punched over and over and over again. My heart twists violently in my chest.
Tom and Jace show up, both of them launching themselves and their gear into the truck almost simultaneously as if they rehearsed it. Tom’s big foot slams down on my shin and I cry out at the sharp pain, my arms jerking reflexively.
It’s then I feel it.
A loosening of my bindings.
I blink away the tears that won’t stop burning down my cheeks, ignoring the throb in my leg. Tom and Jace lift kids, pulling them into their laps as they settle in the bed of the truck. We’re shoved in here, packed like sardines.
CJ doesn’t make eye contact as he passes by the outside of the bed and then hops up front in the cab. Logan checks the bindings on the trailer hitch and then rushes after CJ.
“Let’s roll,” I hear Logan say before the truck door slams.
We’re leaving?
Panic swells up inside me. What about the rest of their people? Where are they? Are they just going to leave them? I manage to move my mouth enough that the material falls away and I’m able to spit out the sock.
“Ryder!” I rasp out. “Ryder!”
The smoke has done a number on my vocal cords because I can hardly get the words past my lips.
“They can’t hear you,” Jace says with a laugh but then starts coughing.
I wriggle my wrists behind me and tug until I feel my hand slip through the tight bindings. The truck begins to move slowly at first, as if the heavy load is too much for the vehicle to bear. I carefully look around to see if anyone’s noticed my near escape. Slowly, I slide my palm to where my knife remains hooked at my side. When they took us from our beds, they told us to throw on our clothes, but little did they know, my knife stays on my belt and they were too preoccupied to notice.
Now I’ll use it to stab every damn one of them.
I grip the hilt of my knife, wondering who to maim first. Mya is a selfish choice because I hate her stupid face, but Jace or Tom would subdue me before I had the chance, which means they have to be first.
The truck begins to pick up speed, but sounds can be heard from behind us. Whatever they’re pulling on the rope is dragging and bouncing and making a racket. It’s not until we break free from the choke of the smoke that I’m able to make out what it is, barely visible in the red glow of the taillights.