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 ears ring too loudly for me to hear what Scarlet is saying, but whatever it is has her tugging my arm. Her eyes are wild, and her face pale.
Finally, her voice begins filtering through as the ringing fades. “We have to go. It was too loud.”
Fuck. She’s right.
By the time we burst outside, lights are flipping on behind two windows in the longhouses.
“Shit!” I take her by the hand, sprinting for the nearest longhouse again, running full-out in the narrow space before the wall and the fence.
We have to reach the gate before somebody closes it.
I shouldn’t have brought her.
I shouldn’t have shot him.
He shouldn’t have hit a kid.
I knew you would fuck this up.
River’s voice gets me moving faster, bolting straight for the gate and finding it standing open once we’ve cleared the longhouse. They haven’t discovered the empty guardhouse yet. There’s still a chance.
We pass the arsenal shed at a full run; the sound of raised voices and slamming doors drowns out Scarlet’s panicked gasps for breath.
Just a little farther. A little more.
I shouldn’t have done it.
They’re still alive. I fucking failed.
“Hurry,” Scarlet squeals when we’re only feet from escape, and I understand why. Male voices ring out behind us, followed by pounding footsteps, but it’s too late. We’re already rounding the fence, running in the dark that isn’t so dark anymore. The eastern horizon is beginning to lighten, which at least makes it possible to watch where I’m running.
Though I’d swear my feet don’t touch the ground. I’m flying, weightless, triumphant, even in failure. One less evil bastard. One less abusive prick.
One message sent.
We reach the Jeep, and I forget at first that I gave Scarlet the keys. She unlocks her door, then thrusts them my way before throwing herself inside. Only once we’re pulling away from the old gas station does the blaring of sirens split the early morning air.
I might not have taken out my intended targets, but I made sure they know they’re vulnerable. Let them be the ones to sweat it out for once, dreading the day it’s their turn.
“Are you okay?” I shout, tearing down the road at eighty miles an hour, dust flying in all directions. “Are you injured?”
“I’m fine.” She watches over her shoulder, still panting, almost wheezing. “I’m fine. Jesus, Ren. That was close.”
She’s not telling me anything I don’t know. Another thirty seconds, if that, and this could’ve turned out much differently. I gave in to impulse, to the rage that still bubbles and flows through me like lava beneath a volcano.
“Why did you do that?”
The question leaves me gripping the wheel tighter, my foot heavy on the gas. I wish she understood how complicated a question she’s asked.
I wish I had it in me to tell her.
One day, I will.
This is not that day. Not when the memories are so close to the surface. When I can feel the lashes against my ass and thighs just as clearly as if I were the one lying on that shower floor.
I can’t lift the lid on that horror by discussing it.
I wouldn’t want to hurt her.
It’s better to leave the question unanswered. I’m too concerned with getting us out of here as fast as possible, putting miles between us and the compound.
I’ll come back, and when I do, there will be no more mistakes.
No giving in to rage, no diverting from the plan.
All I have to do now is convince River I made the right move.
29
SCARLET
Two Weeks Later
I’m a terrible person.
I have to be, or else why would I sigh in relief at the sound of the front door opening and closing?
“I’ll be sure to pick up some Pepto,” Ren told me, kissing my forehead before he left. Naturally, it was nice to feel that.
He’s the love of my life—that hasn’t changed, no matter how strange and awkward things have been between us since Reno.
Just the thought of it is enough to make my already sour stomach feel even worse. That’s how bad it’s been lately. I’m walking around with a stomachache half the time, all from my nerves being on edge. Curling up in a tight ball, I close my eyes and breathe slowly in hopes of staving off a fresh wave of nausea.
Reno was supposed to be the end of things. When everything turned around, and we could finally build some semblance of a life together. I’ve already turned my back on everything and everyone else, and I still stand by that decision. He’s all that matters. He always has been.
We were supposed to move forward. He kept promising, didn’t he? That everything would be okay for us once he finally settled this vendetta against the cult’s founders.
And I believed him because I had to. Because I love him.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that simple.
Two weeks later, and things are just as bad for him as ever.