Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
A lump forms in my throat. What could he be referring to?
I’ve already learned how dangerous getting too close to his plans and activities is. The smart thing to do would be to pretend I never heard anything.
How am I supposed to when it’s starting to feel more and more like River is leading Ren down a dangerous path? It’s like we’re battling it out, fighting for Ren’s soul, even though we’ve never met.
I don’t think I want to meet him, either.
“I would hardly call a handful of shotguns an arsenal, you know.”
An arsenal?
Fear wraps itself around me like steel bands squeezing my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. They’re making it sound like these cult people are armed. And he wants to go in there and kill them?
One person against a small army?
It’s concern and that terrible, all-consuming fear that pushes me out of the bedroom on tiptoes. He’s sitting at the table, wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans as usual, leaning close to the screen.
Same story, different day. I can only see half of Ren’s face, but it’s clear from his profile alone that he’s getting angrier with every word coming through his earbuds.
“Fuck off. This was all your idea in the first place, remember? You started it. This was what you wanted.”
The tension in his voice sends an icy finger down my spine. Great. I had to go and jinx things, didn’t I? Thinking we’re on a good path since everything’s been going smoothly for us ever since that scary, bloody night.
My heart thuds, sinking lower and lower.
I tiptoe a bit closer, rounding the table. I want to look at this River.
The man pulling the strings. I ought to at least be able to get a look at him.
Only… the screen is dark from this angle. A privacy screen so passersby can’t make out what’s there? I’m not even allowed to get a glimpse of what he’s doing; who he’s talking to? He doesn’t trust me enough.
All at once, he whirls in the chair, his eyes hard and steely while he slams the laptop shut.
“What are you doing? Get back in the bedroom, dammit.”
I’m so overwhelmed, so shocked that the notion of defying him doesn’t occur to me. My feet are moving before my brain catches up, carrying me across the room and into the bedroom again. I plop down on the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress in both hands, my insides twisting and churning.
Damn River.
Damn him for this.
He’s the one who keeps turning Ren against me. I’m sure he doesn’t like the idea of me being a part of their plan. He might even resent me for being here.
Whatever he feels, he’s using it to twist his brother and turn him into this animal whose anger is always at a low simmer. Always ready to heighten to a boil at the slightest provocation. Even when I don’t mean to provoke him.
I only want to love him.
He doesn’t keep me waiting long, at least. It’s less than a minute before his footsteps echo in the otherwise silent cabin. I brace myself, holding my breath and wishing harder than ever that River would have a sudden, tragic accident and leave Ren and me by ourselves.
I can’t look up at him right away.
I’m afraid to see his face, what’s written on it.
Only when he speaks can I breathe again.
“I’m sorry for snapping. You caught me by surprise. I was too deep in my planning, and being startled set me off. It wasn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
He’s leaning against the doorframe, shoulders up around his ears while he jams his hands into his pockets. “Forgive me?” he murmurs, lifting his brows.
“Sure. It’s all right.” I manage a weak smile, even though my anger toward River keeps me from meaning it. “You hungry? I could make some eggs.” The sooner we brush this aside, the better.
He offers a sheepish grin. “That sounds great. You make them much better than I do.”
I snort before getting up, standing on tiptoes to kiss him and run a hand over his scruffy cheek.
“Spoken like somebody who likes handing over the cooking duties.”
“No comment,” he mutters with a snicker, and we laugh together as I walk to the stove. At least his dark cloud passed quickly this time. There’s never any way of knowing whether it will.
My dark cloud, on the other hand, is still stuck squarely over my head as I pull food from the fridge. The laptop is still on the table, a reminder of River and his poison. I know they’re brothers, and they both suffered, but he’s become the symbol of all the problems I’ve experienced with Ren. Even the parts that aren’t his fault—like my suspicions about Ren being hurt or sick at some point—have become his fault in my scarred heart.