Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Your boyfriends are safe. I sent them away so we could have some privacy. You wanted to meet me. Here I am. What do you think?” Everleigh twirled, spinning the lace edges of her ivory summer dress. “Am I what you expected of the Phantom?”
The words barely penetrated. My head hurt so much, the idea of putting two thoughts together drove a spike through it. Smoke was filling the room, making it even more impossible for my blurry eyes to focus, or my tortured lungs to breathe.
“Hello.” Everleigh snapped her fingers in my face. “Focus, Sinclair. We don’t have much time. This place is about to burn down with you in it.”
The fog blew out of my mind. Sense came back to me, latching onto that statement as the ladder to bring me back. “What did you just say?”
“You going to make me waste time repeating myself, or are you going to ask me what you really want to ask me?” She flicked my nose. “Quickly, bitch. It’s getting a little too smoky in here for my taste.”
I gaped at her. Everleigh Starling? Saylor’s best friend with the model looks, and the dreamy eyes that spent too much time looking at my fiancé—
“You’re the Phantom?”
She winked. “That’s right. Love the nickname, by the way. Much better than the Book Lady. Now that we’re here, did you enjoy my performance?” She laughed. “All that weeping and wailing on the café floor. I keep telling Maman I was meant to be an actress.”
She frowned into my wide eyes. “What? You don’t get it? Damn, you’re stupid,” Everleigh muttered. “I’m Jezebel12. I gave you the link to my site for your boring little revenge against me, Saylor, and the others. You weren’t going to dig dirt up on me on your own, and I couldn’t have you sending the T.O.Ders after me. I don’t need stalkers.” Everleigh shrugged. “I also don’t particularly care if people know about the Book Lady. I started doing it to get information from stupid, horny idiots that you can’t get when those horny idiots are dressed. That information led to your mother, which led to your sister, which led to you. So yeah, I’m glad everyone knows. The Book Lady is my greatest accomplishment.”
“But...” I searched for the words and found only one. “Why?”
“Why did I send those guys after your sister?” She pushed out her lips in mocked sadness. “Ah yes, poor little Winter.”
“No,” I said. “Why... are you a psychotic bitch?”
Everleigh laughed out loud. “For the same reason you are. Revenge. There’s something I needed and your sister got in the way. Thankfully— Well, thankfully for me, you were much more obedient and did what you were told. You hung the flag.”
“A flag? That’s why you did all this? You had Winter tortured all for a fucking flag!” I tried to shout but wheezed it instead. I went into another coughing fit, jerking and banging my back against the coffee table legs. “Why d-didn’t you just hang it yourself!”
“It had to be a Sinclair. When your sister died, I gave up. Those bastards were supposed to drive her to follow my orders, not kill herself. I almost killed them myself... then you showed up.” Everleigh looked around. “Time to go. See you in hell, Sinclair.”
Everleigh turned and walked off.
“Wait! That’s it? You destroyed my family for a flag and that’s all you have to say? Why?” I screamed. “Tell me why!”
“I’m actually not into the evil-villain-monologuing. Especially in a burning building.” Everleigh snapped her fingers. “Come.”
“I can’t come.” I trashed against the table legs. “You tied me up.”
“Not you.”
A tall, silent figure dipped in black stepped out of the hallway. His face so like Rafael’s beheld me coldly.
“Shoot her.”
Ice dumped down my spine.
“I want to see her die for myself,” Everleigh continued, tone light and cool as could be. “Do this and your freak boys are safe. No one touches them. No one even gives them dirty looks. The Dumont brothers won’t die of anything except old age.”
Leon Dumont drew his gun and leveled it on my chest. The expression on his face was no different than the one he had when we drank tea.
“No, wait!”
Dumont flicked off the safety.
“Tell me why,” I screamed. “Just tell me why!”
“Why?” The first crack in her amused, happy mask appeared. “It’s simple. I’ve been waiting almost ten years to make that bastard pay for what he did to my father. For years I’ve searched for him. For years I couldn’t get close. Then, daddy’s little girls enrolled in Regalia University.”