Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
After glaring at me long enough I can’t misunderstand his desire for me to remain seated, he dumps the homemade spikes onto the sloshy ground next to us, then digs the folded-up news article out of the pocket of his winter jacket.
The white clouds of his breaths in the frigid air float between us when he stabs his thumb at the image of Rosie’s burned car.
Although the similarities of our accidents are even more compelling now, I still don’t comprehend what he’s trying to show me.
When I say that to him, air rattles in his lungs when he thrusts his calloused hand to the wreckage almost hidden by the unrelenting snow before he thrusts the newspaper article in my face.
“I’m sure accidents occur like this all the time. Especially out this way…” My last sentence is nowhere near as convincing as I’m hoping. If my crash was an accident, how did spikes get under the chassis of my car? They’re clearly homemade, and the only people who travel this road are Cedric and his family. They own the entire estate.
Let me stop you before you get too far ahead of yourself. The Lancasters are extremely family-oriented. They’d never plot to take out one of their own.
My inner monologue trails off when a disturbing fact pops into my head. The morning of my accident, I rang Cedric’s father to get the physical address of his cabin. I knew of its location, but I didn’t have an actual address I could punch into the GPS, so he knew I was planning to surprise Cedric. He knew I’d be traveling that road at some stage the night of my accident.
The stranger’s eyes drop to my lips when I mumble, “But why would he want me dead? I don’t have anything he wants. I’m a surgeon. That’s all I am. A professional. A medic. A big brain on two skinny legs, as he’s quoted many times the past year. His family has never once treated me like a person. To them, I’m… I’m… I’m…” my voice croaks when I choke out, “… nothing.”
With my heart a twisted mess, and the snow coming down so fast I can’t see six feet in front of me, the stranger plucks me from the stump, then hooks me onto his back without a single protest seeping from my lips.
I must be in shock. Not just from realizing how close to death I came, but also from learning it may not have been an accident.
That’s a bitter pill to swallow, and I’ll need more than thirty seconds to process it.
Fortunately for me, neither the blizzard nor the stranger’s once unwanted protectiveness will give me much choice but to sit back and evaluate things.
Chapter Ten
With snow creeping up all sides of the cabin, my panic should be just as elevated, but for some strange reason, I’m more worried about Rosha than myself.
Does she know she’s bunkering down with a man whose family is as shady as the eerie shadows dancing in the woods?
I bet she wouldn’t be so eager to suck Cedric’s micro-dick then.
When my shudders conceal the laughter I wasn’t anticipating to rumble in my chest at any stage within the next six months, my thumb that’s been sanding the wooden windowsill picks up an unusual pattern in the grain.
I’ve been sitting by the only window in the cabin for the past three-plus hours. A million thoughts have raced through my head, but only one has remained, I should be dead.
By a deliberate act or from accidentally rolling over a set of spikes not earmarked for me, I don’t know, but the more I try to unearth the truth, the more confused I become.
I own nothing of value, not even Cedric classed my time as valuable, so I truly don’t believe the spikes were for me. But since it took hours for me to reach that conclusion and several feet of snow, I won’t be able to expand on my findings until this blizzard blows over.
I’m trapped more now than I was when pinned behind the steering wheel of my car, but once again, the thought doesn’t terrify me as much as it should. I’ve lived my life a million miles an hour the past ten-plus years. I didn’t want to be accused of slacking off, so I worked relentlessly to prove every promotion I’ve been granted was given purely on performance instead of my friendship with the founder of Ravenshoe Private Hospital. I commenced work before the sun rose and didn’t finish until it had long rested, and although I love my job, I would be a liar if I said my schedule wasn’t exhausting.
I had no clue I was on the verge of burnout until I spent three hours watching snow fall from a sky without an ounce of guilt fettering my features. The stranger probably thinks I’m the laziest person on the planet. Although his presence is forever felt, while I wallowed like a heartbroken idiot, he chopped wood, stacked the fireplace, and removed the vomit from the bedding.