Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I lock eyes on Faye again. “I have to get back to him before he does something to hurt himself.” Then a reality hits me. “But he was so ready to send me back home.”
Faye pushes out of her chair as I look up at her. “Well, we aren’t going to find answers by sitting in here, sis.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“You say that Beatrix woman gave you a chant. Do you think if you say it again, that it’ll take you back?”
“No. Caz made it clear it was a one-way chant. He doesn’t want me coming back.”
“And you don’t know how you got there in the first place?”
“I was really, really high,” I admit, huffing a laugh. “And I was in my bed, and I saw that light.” I pause. “Oh—and that time in the basement when I was supposed to bring the wine to you. I was suddenly in a forest, and I could hear his voice. He was calling out to me, but it all went away when you came to find me.”
“That’s what that freakout was about?” she exclaims.
“Yes… that.”
“I knew I wasn’t overreacting! Why didn’t you just say?”
“Because I would’ve sounded crazy! Hell, I feel like I sound crazy now!”
“I mean, you do, but also…I believe you. So I’m not sure what that says about us.” She makes a warped face, then she’s at the door as she says, “I guess we should go to the basement again. Maybe there’s a connection there we can find.”
Sixty
CAZ
Killian and Rowan stand behind me, and I pluck the bloom from my lips, tossing it on the ground in front of the tattered house, then focusing on the front door. Smoke drifts from my lips, and I do wish the bloom would calm me down, but it won’t at the moment. Right now, I’m annoyed and in pain, and this is just the distraction I need. Besides, I’ve warned this Moren fucker twice to stop stealing from my warehouse. Twice is too many. I don’t allow third chances.
I pull out the steel wire from my pocket, raising it in the air to get a good look at it. I haven’t used it in weeks. The thread is still strong.
“Right. Let’s move in,” I tell the boys. I march up what’s left of the wooden stoop and kick the front door in.
The place reeks of gold dust and black opium. Rubies are scattered across the table, some of them tipped out of a familiar black satchel. They’re the rubies from the safe in my warehouse. That’s not what catches my attention most, though. It’s the fucker lying on the sofa, a hand pressed to his bloated belly, his balding head tipped back. He’s in his underpants, which are stained brown and yellow from shit and piss, his knobby knees chalky. He’s so fucked up that he doesn’t even wake when we burst in. However, a naked woman in the corner screams at the top of her lungs, grabbing a dirty throw pillow to cover herself.
“Leave,” I grumble, and she whimpers as she collects her clothes and rushes past me, Killian, and Rowan. Rowan stands on one side of the room behind me, Killian on the other, and they glance at me before marching ahead to run a perimeter check.
“Clear,” Killian calls when they return.
I walk deeper into the house, kicking the slanted table in the middle of the room and causing Moren’s foot to fall. He jerks awake, gasping, a ring of black powder on one of his nostrils.
“Oi. Sit up,” I snap at him, and his eyes fill with panic when he realizes it’s me. Yes, me. Not a friend. Not a neighbor. Me.
“Mr. Harlow—sir, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Rowan moves past me, reeling his arm back and punching Moren in the face with a solid fist. I tip my chin as Moren yowls and clutches his face, trying to stop the blood now gushing from his nose.
“Spare me the manners, Moren. If you had even an ounce of respect for me, I wouldn’t be here. Now, I know what you’ve done, and I’m here to make sure you never do it again.”
“Sir…” he blubbers.
“On your knees. “I step around the table where my rubies are.
Moren looks from me, to Rowan, then to Killian, who I’m sure he doesn’t want trouble with either but will have it if he doesn’t do what I say. With slight hesitation, Moren drops to his knees in front of the table, and I walk around, clutching the steel rope in my hand.
I glare down at the top of his bald head. “Place one of your hands on the table.”
“Please, Mr. Harlow. Just kill me. Kill me, please,” he moans.
My eye twitches and I give the man a fuller look before pulling out my gun and tipping his chin with it, forcing him to look at me. Blood has spread over his upper lip, his eyes filled to the brim with tears.