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)
My voice sounds foreign, even to my ears. Too tight, too full of dread.
He only grunts without looking at me. So much for that.
Trees grow thick on both sides of what’s now little more than a path in the woods. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear my heart pounding, thanks to my growing anxiety. There’s hardly any light as the woods get thicker.
A faint glow up ahead catches my eye. It disappears for a blink due to the trees growing around it, then becomes visible again. A house.
What are we doing all the way out here? What’s he planning on doing? Whose house is this?
By the time he parks and kills the engine, my heart is in my throat, and I can barely breathe. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.
He spares a glance at me; the look in his eyes doesn’t belong to Ren. It belongs to someone else.
“Stay in the car,” he orders. I don’t want to stay in the car. I want to follow him. Stop him from making a mistake.
The look in his eyes almost brings to mind what I saw earlier today when he was on his knees in front of me, staring between my thighs. Like he’s looking at something he’s wanted for as long as he can remember, something finally within his reach.
“What are you going to do?” I whisper, dreading the answer.
“Scarlet, nothing is out here for you, and if you wander off and get lost or hurt, it will make everything harder. Stay put, so I don’t have to search for you.”
That’s all the explanation I receive before he opens the door and steps out, taking the keys with him. I watch, chewing my bottom lip as his retreating figure grows smaller before melting into the darkness.
Shit. What now? He doesn’t have a weapon, does he?
How’s he going to defend himself?
I’m asking stupid questions. For all I know, he’s checking the place out. He’s not going to hurt anybody.
There I was, thinking I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.
No, he’s going to hurt someone. That’s the goal here. To inflict pain. It was written all over him—every tense muscle, every grunt, the intensity radiating from him. The closer we came to this little house in the woods, the worse he got. The more determined.
He’s going to explode on somebody. I almost feel sorry for them, though I know they must deserve it. So far, though, there’s been nothing but the same soft nighttime noises I’ve heard around the cabin.
How long has it been? Did he go inside? Minutes trickle by so slowly when you’re anticipating something that might not happen. I haven’t seen a change in the lights glowing from the two front windows.
I need to stop thinking. I most definitely need to stop asking questions. There’s no piecing this together on my own.
“Whatever he’s doing, he has a good reason.”
Saying it out loud helps a little. Not enough, but a little. I know I’m trying to justify his wrongdoings, but I have no right to judge him. I don’t know the whole story yet, and I have no reason not to trust him.
I drum my fingers against my thigh as a cold chill seeps into the Jeep, but I ignore it. I’m not sure how long he’s been gone. Minutes, I know, but it seems longer. Not so much as a speck of light filters between the tops of the trees, that much I know. It’s fully dark, and still no Ren. There isn’t any movement around the house. No shadows moving behind the windows.
It’ll be a miracle if I make it out of this without screaming. The strain is that extreme, tightening me up inside until I have no choice but to pop like a spring or explode like a bomb.
What if something happened to him?
Great. Because I needed something else to worry my mind. I can’t even get away if there’s danger nearby. In the dark, unaware of where I am, unseen threats could be all around me, ready to jump out and attack.
I’d never forgive myself if I sat here, doing nothing while he was in danger. Maybe he needs help. What if he’s injured and can’t make it back to me on his own? I can’t handle all the ugly, painful scenarios cutting through my mind. There’s no defending myself from them.
Ugh. Screw this. I need to at least find out if he’s okay. He couldn’t have expected me to stay here all this time, alone, without knowing he was safe.
Carefully, I step out of the Jeep and leave the door ajar so the interior light will stay on—otherwise, I’d be in trouble. My sense of direction isn’t the best in full daylight. Finding a darkened car in the middle of the woods? Forget about it.