Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Becs,” Roger coos, but I can’t do this. “Please, why are you doing this? You know I—”
“I said get the fuck out of my apartment!” This time, I turn and glare at the man who’s tried to be good to me. We’ve been dating for three months. In the time he’s been with me, I’ve really tried, but he started talking about marriage and kids, and then the nightmares returned.
“Fuck,” Roger grunts as he dresses quickly, but I can feel his angry stare on me. He makes one more attempt before he walks out. “Are you okay?”
“Just leave.”
I stand in the darkness for a long time.
I don’t expect anyone to understand. Maybe I’m as broken as my father, and as shattered as my mother. There’s no hope for me. I don’t expect anyone else to love me this way.
A knock on the door grabs my attention and I want to shout at Roger to leave, but with a sigh, I make my way to tell him once again it’s over. I pull open the door, expecting to see his worried stare, but instead, on the welcome mat is a bunch of tulips. They’re a soft pink color, but what alarms me is the red spray they’re covered in.
I pick up the vase and I find a note. The stench of metal is apparent. It’s not red paint; it’s blood. The vase falls from my hand, hitting the tiles with a loud crash. Glass shards cut into my bare feet, but I don’t feel anything other than the swirling in my head.
With trembling fingers, I open the note, and the breath is knocked from my lungs.
A little liar, hidden in plain sight. We know who you are and we’re coming… soon.
CHAPTER TWO
CROW
“No.” My voice rings clear, there is no inflection. There is no debate. I don’t like to talk about this, but when they bring up the possibility of focusing solely on the old man, I refuse. We all agreed the plan would go ahead without a hitch.
It’s been years in the making, and I’m not about to walk away from it now. I have never allowed myself to leave anything behind, especially if it served me well. She’s going to serve me very fucking well. Even if she doesn’t want to. I’ll ensure she will learn about vengeance.
The moon hangs above us, bathing us in the silver light which has always hidden all my desires in the cloak of darkness. The sky is raven-hued, like my black heart. The one word answer I gave my brothers must be enough to get them off my back.
I can feel both of them staring at me. Their eyes burn through me, searching for something they can never find. I watch her as she moves through the quad. Her classes have started, and I should walk away, but I can’t bring myself to.
When I found out about her, I knew I had to do something. She’s been a target for a while. But we had to wait until she was of age. I’m not some sick fucker who’ll kidnap a child. But now she’s over eighteen, she’s fair game.
Her mother was good at laying low, but Falcon has some skills not even the fucking FBI can hide from. Every ounce of information I garnered about our beauty only made me hunger even more. She thinks she’s safe, hiding out, but she’s not. Because the three of us have been watching her for a couple of years, making sure nobody came for her. No other man will ever hurt her because she’s ours to destroy.
“She thinks her fake name and her new life has kept her from us, or from her father, but she’s so wrong.” My best friend’s tone is calm as he speaks. I know he’s right, but I don’t admit to it. He’ll only continue to talk about her.
I don’t look at Falcon. The bastard has a soft spot for pretty things. I know he enjoys hurting them, making them cry, and there’s something about her which has him all fucked up.
It’s probably the long white-blonde hair hanging to the middle of her back. Or it’s the soft hazel eyes she pierces through our armor with because they seem to shine like sunshine through a storm. If I were a hero, I would want to save her. But I’m the villain in her story.
I want nothing more than to see her cry.
To watch her cheeks turn red as she sobs for mercy.
I don’t show sympathy.
It’s been a long time since that word has been associated with me. I pull the black hoodie up over my head to cover most of my face and I turn away from her laughing face. The more happiness I see in her expression, the hotter my blood burns.