Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
But I almost felt like I was watching myself from above as I charged in the house, rushing through to the kitchen at the back where the screams of my baby sister were originating from.
I saw her first.
I think I was somehow hardwired to always look for her instead of the man threatening her, like some part of me had to know she was okay before I could give Josh even a second of my attention.
There she was, backed against the kitchen island, her knees drawn to her chest, making herself a smaller target, protecting as much of her body as possible.
Her arms started up, trying to protect her face from damage.
From more damage.
It was naive to think he would finally get her again and she wouldn’t be hurt. But I guess I’d just been hoping that I’d gotten there quickly enough.
The last thing Wren needed was more pain, more terrible memories.
Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t spare her that.
Her lip was already split and there were bruises starting to peek through on her cheek and under her eye.
The arms she had raised had marks too.
Her arms suddenly shot upward as the man towering over her reached behind her head and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling so savagely that he dragged her up to her feet by it, making her let out another shriek of pain through her sobs, through her pleading.
“Please, please stop. You’re hurting me!”
“I fucking hope so,” Josh snarled. “You had this coming, you know. Running away from me. Letting that fucking bitch sister take your beatings for you. Whoring yourself out to that loser!”
His voice gained in ferocity as he ran down her list of supposed trespasses against him. And with each one, he gave her hair a hard yank, shaking her around like a rag doll as she cried.
My eye-gouger and mace were just… not going to cut it. Not with how enraged he was.
My gaze scanned the kitchen, landing on a block sitting right there a few feet away from the two of them.
I didn’t stop to think.
About if I had what it would take.
About the repercussions.
I just charged forward, grabbing the hilt of what turned out to be a heavy, sharp chef’s knife.
And I just… stabbed it into his back with every bit of strength in my significantly smaller body.
Which, as it turned out, was more than enough.
Josh’s body arched and jerked hard even before the howl of pain escaped him. His sudden movement had me yanking the knife back out, barely even registering the resistance as it pulled out of muscle and fat and whatever else it had sliced through inside of him.
Wren’s body went flying backward and down, landing with a crash against the kitchen table, sending the chairs flying as she yelped.
But I couldn’t look at her.
For the time being, she was safe.
I had to keep my eyes on Josh who was suddenly spinning, his eyes huge, his hand clutching his stomach.
“Fucking bitch!” he raged, taking a step forward, his other arm outstretched.
I wasn’t even fully aware of what I was doing then. It was like my body had shifted into autopilot and I was watching like a passenger in the backseat as the driver plunged the knife into that outstretched palm.
Then his chest.
Then his throat.
Then his chest again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
It was the blood that finally seemed to put me back in the driver’s seat of my own body.
The hot, sticky blood that was making my hand slip on the hilt of the knife, losing my grip.
Not that it mattered.
Josh was crumpling down to the floor, his hands holding his throat, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to say something, but nothing came out but a horrific death rattle.
I watched as the life drained from those evil eyes of his, but it took me a solid moment before I realized that I’d done that.
I’d drained that life.
I’d killed him.
Just like that, I could suddenly think past the survival drive. I could hear past the whooshing of my pulse in my ears.
And that was when I heard it.
Him.
I heard him.
“Baby, it’s okay,” Salvatore said, making my head turn slowly to find him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, tucking his gun away, then slowly holding his hands up to me. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he went on, voice more soothing than I’d ever heard it.
Why was he talking to me like some scared animal?
Even as I thought it though, I felt it.
My entire body was shaking.
Head to toe.
My teeth were even knocking together.
My gaze moved from him back to my own hands, seeing the bloodied knife there, and dropping it with a yelp, like it was suddenly scalding me.
“Alright. It’s alright,” Salvatore said, and he was suddenly next to me, reaching for me, pulling me against his chest, holding me together when my body and mind threatened to fall apart. “You okay over there, kid?” he asked.