Series: The Moretti Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
That would be the right thing to do, the good thing, but I’m not about to deliver false hope, and I’m not listening to this shit. If she had been honest and given me the answers I wanted, none of this would’ve happened.
I’m tired of playing nice.
Tired of protecting her.
Without even thinking, I grab her by the throat and push against the car, subduing her with my body. Panic flashes like a lightning bolt across her eyes, overtaking the sadness. Her pulse thunders beneath my hand, and I give her throat a hard squeeze.
I’m slipping into the past, slipping further away.
Brushing my nose against hers, I inhale deeply. I wish her scent could bring me back…
“Your sister is still alive. You’re still alive. For how long, I’m not sure as you continue pushing and fighting me at every fucking turn. I’ve asked you to tell me the truth, and you’ve fought me with each step. The pain you’re feeling right now is your own fault. I could protect us better, protect you better if you just gave me the fucking information, but you won’t. I’m going to have to go back on my word. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Markus, please… I’m sorry.” The words wheeze past her lips.
I’m grappling for control, grappling with myself over how to handle her.
There is no way around it.
I pull away a bit, watching her face, her struggle, the way her hands pry at mine, wrapped around her throat. I’ve never seen her more afraid of me before, not even the day I bought her. Her chest is rising and falling, but it doesn’t seem like air is filling her lungs.
Guilt pulses to life in my chest, but I ignore the pang.
With my hand wrapped securely around her throat, I press my thumb firmly into the side of her neck. The blood supply to her brain is cut off immediately, and her fight-or-flight instincts kick in full force as she struggles harder. She digs her nails into my hands and tries with all her might to push me away, but there is no breaking the hold I have on her.
I keep the pressure there until her eyes flutter closed, and she goes slack in my arms, her body giving out on her. Like a rag doll, she slumps against me, and I hold her close to my chest while I maneuver her into the passenger seat of the car.
Once situated, I brush a few stray locks of gold hair off her clammy forehead. I’m tempted to kiss her rosy lips, but instead, press a kiss to the crown of her head. I can’t grow anymore attached to her than I am. Not until I know the whole truth.
As I pull away, my gaze latches on the red and swollen fingerprints that were left on her delicate throat. My stomach knots, and the guilt I tried so hard to bury, to swallow down, starts to rise up again.
Before I can even think about it, I’m touching the spots, tracing them ever so gently with my fingers. I don’t like knowing that I put those marks there, even though that’s who I am and who I will always be. I’ll always be the villain, the killer, walking on the wrong side of the law.
Pulling my hand back as if her skin is fire, I grit my teeth.
No! I won’t feel bad. I won’t let the guilt take me for a heinous ride down memory lane.
She ran from me.
She’s hiding secrets.
She cannot be trusted.
Those three things weigh heavily on my shoulders and are the reminder I need.
If we’re going to make it out of this on the same side, I will have to find a way to make her crack, and I have just the right idea.
27
Fallon
I wake with my heart galloping in my chest. I’m disoriented, my thoughts muddled, making it hard for me to piece together anything.
Sucking a full breath of air into my lungs, I exhale and swallow around what feels like a knot in my throat. My body aches as if I passed out or something. Sitting up a little more in my seat, I realize I’m in a vehicle that’s being driven down the road. I dismiss that altogether when I swallow once more and feel the sudden rawness in my throat.
Instinctively, I lift a hand to my throat, my fingers press against the tender tissue, and I wince. What happened?
Everything comes barreling into my mind in an instant.
The men breaking in. The woods. Markus wrapping his hand around my throat. Strangling the life right out of me.
Tears prick my eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised or let down. This is who he is, who he’s been all along. Ever thinking that I could trust him was my first mistake.