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)
Dakota, now free of Wild’s arms, takes off running toward Ronan’s place. I trot after him, eager to see my family. He bursts through the door first. The sound of my mother’s yelping and then her sobs greet me as I step inside after him.
Mom has Dakota in her arms, squeezing him to her like he might disappear. Dawson, sitting on the bed, grins at me. My gaze falls to Dad, who’s lying beside him, bruises and healing cuts all over his face.
They hurt him so badly.
With a choked sob of my own, I rush over to Dad. His eyes are open and pure relief shines in them at seeing me. I’m careful when I hug him because I don’t know where else he’s hurt. His fingers spear into my hair, gripping me tight.
“You’re really alive,” I say in a ragged voice. “I didn’t know. Ryder said you were, but I kept seeing you dragged behind us.”
“You saved me, sunshine. That’s my girl.”
Declan starts crying again and the weight of him on my back soon disappears. I cling to my dad, crying, finally releasing all the horrors I’d dealt with since being kidnapped. When I finally calm down, I pull back to see I’ve soaked his shirt. Dawson watches me with wide eyes, sucking on his thumb.
“Hey, buddy,” I whisper. Then I pull away from my dad to look at Mom. “Hey, Mom.”
She has both Dakota and Declan in her lap, rocking with them in her arms. Her bloodshot blue eyes are glistening with emotion. “Come here, baby.”
I fall to my knees in front of her, wiggling my way between my brothers and resting my head against her chest. She bends down and kisses my hair.
“Thank you for keeping my babies safe, Raegan.” She kisses me again. “You’re so brave.”
It takes everything in me not to start crying again.
“Where’s everyone else?” Mom asks shakily. “Are they talking to Atticus?”
Wincing, I pull back, unable to meet her eyes. “They’re still out there.”
“Destiny?” she hisses.
I fall onto my ass and give her a wounded look. “I’m sorry, Mom. I did my best. I couldn’t save them all.”
As Mom breaks down sobbing, I see Dad’s hand reaching for me. I crawl over to him, resting my head against the bed. He pets my hair, uttering soft assurances.
It’s okay.
You’re home safe.
I love you, sunshine.
I hate how hurt my father is, but I’m so happy to see him. Being back home, protected by my parents, has exhaustion taking over. My eyelids are heavy, drooping as I try to stay awake. I can hear my parents talking to each other but am too sleepy to make sense of it.
“Come on, baby,” Mom whispers when the cabin is dark. “Time to get you to bed.”
I’m not sure how much time has passed. I can barely open my eyes long enough to let Mom help me off my slumped position on the floor. She guides me over to the couch. When I crash onto it, she takes my boots off and then covers me with a blanket.
The cushions beneath me are soft and smell like Ronan. Knowing I’ve sat on this couch a million times with him, reading and just talking, warms me.
I miss him.
I miss the way we used to be.
But now there’s a new way for us—where we’ve been with each other in the most intimate of ways. He’s been inside my body. That changes things.
Will we ever go back to the easy, happy times of reading beside each other without a worry in the world?
Do I want that?
I’m not sure. What I do know is I want my brother back. I want them both back. Ronan and Ryder. The three of us having fun times where we swam together in the creek and gave each other crap.
I miss those days.
I miss them.
* * *
* * *
He’s dead.
My tormentor and rapist is dead.
I mean, he has to be, right? I shot him and stabbed him in the ear. Without proper medical treatment, he’ll get an infection like CJ did, and eventually die. The whole world can take an easy breath when that happens, knowing there’s one less monster lurking about.
The problem is, though, I’ll never know for sure. He’ll always be my living nightmare. Waiting and biding his time for the perfect chance to pounce on me, forever making me his little pet. I’ll always be forced to look over my shoulder, anticipating his next move.
He’s dead.
I repeat that thought over and over and over again inside my head, hoping it’ll stick, indefinitely chasing away the worry and doubt. Even if he lived for some wild reason, he won’t have his brother or father or uncle. His cousins are dead too. The few people he had left at that camp wouldn’t be able to take over again and it’s doubtful he’d ever find his way back having not grown up in these woods like we did.