Touch of Hate Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
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“It'll be over soon,” River promises with a soft laugh before he makes the first slice.

And Christian screams. A single, high-pitched scream like a mindless animal gripped in complete terror and unspeakable pain. A scream that cuts off when his voice breaks—but his mouth is still open, his entire body tensed. Blood coats my hands, painting them red the way it paints his thighs and the floor under him. So much blood.

With a satisfied grunt, River tosses the bloody lump on top of Christian's chest. “Now, the score is settled,” he decides as he stands and stares down at the weakening body.

All I can do is watch the life drain from him. He’s still conscious, but it’s fading fast, his silent screams turning to soundless whimpers as he bleeds out on the floor. I hope every single evil act he’s ever committed is playing back in front of him now. One last look at his life before he burns in hell.

River brings me back to my senses after Christian has breathed his last. “We need to get out of here before one of his scum friends comes to check on him.”

I nod in agreement. “Scarlet is outside.”

“Of course, she is.” River rolls his eyes. “You better go and babysit then.”

“Why don’t you come out and meet her? Maybe then you’ll understand.”

River’s gaze is somber. For a second, I think he’ll agree, and for some reason, that leaves me feeling uneasy. “Not today. I’ll meet her when the time is right.”

Relief fills my veins, taking me by surprise. The thought of Scarlet and River meeting is both exciting and terrifying. They have been such a huge part of my life, but they don’t share a single memory. It’s almost like a coin I carry with me. They are both with me but each owns a side of a coin, part of my world yet not meant to ever meet.

I’m about to go to the kitchen to wash my hands when I hear a sound coming from outside the house.

And it could only be one person.

River’s head snaps up, and our eyes meet. His nasty smirk is all I have to see. He knows who’s out there.

Damn her for not listening.

24

SCARLET

A bloodcurdling scream rings through the night.

It stops me short.

Freezes the blood in my veins, locks my joints, and tenses every muscle in my body. My heart squeezes inside my chest until I’m certain it has stopped beating altogether.

All of that from a scream.

Because it’s the sort of scream that transcends pain and makes a person crumple in fear. So much fear. It tears through me on the tail end of the scream, that fear, and all of a sudden, my bladder feels heavy.

There’s no question where it came from. Straight ahead of me.

Inside the house.

The sound echoes in my head, sheer terror and inexpressible pain. It almost didn’t sound human, but I’ve never heard an animal sound that way.

Like a cat having its skin flayed while it’s still alive.

I need to get out of here. I need to turn back and go to the Jeep. Now. Before Ren discovers I left. I was supposed to stay put, and now I’m here, and I really, really wish I wasn’t. Still, the question lingers in my mind.

What is he doing in there?

Because, somehow, I know that scream wasn’t Ren’s. I’m absolutely sure of it. It feels like an eternity, but might not be more than a few seconds, before my body catches up to the horror show in my head and begins moving. I fall back a few steps, staring at the house while dread takes root in my stomach.

Certainty and dread.

Another sound rings out as loud and sharp as a gunshot.

The cracking of a stick under my heel.

It makes me cringe, and my heart stops again. I raise my hands to my mouth and press them against my lips.

Shit, he had to hear that.

And somebody did.

Without warning, the front door swings open to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered figure. He stands still as a hulking statue, only his heaving shoulders proof of him being flesh and not carved stone. The light fixture above his head casts his face in an eerie shadow, but I don’t need to make out the chiseled features to know who’s standing in front of me. I’d know his face anywhere, but it isn’t his face that grabs my attention and holds it.

I’m imagining this.

I fell asleep back there, waiting, and this is only a dream. A nightmare. I’m imagining the scent of leaves and dirt and rotting things. None of it’s real. It can’t be, but it is, and every cell in my body trembles, and my brain urges me to go back to the Jeep. To turn and run before the beast can get me.

I can’t drag my gaze from his hand. Blood drips from Ren’s fists, splattering on the floor by his feet.


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