Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
“Get the fuck out of here. All of you!” The anger in his glare falters for a moment when someone behind me catches his attention.
I turn to see who he’s looking at, when my eyes land on Luna as she’s lifting the end of her feminine dress, displaying a crown of throwing stars on the strap of the black garter around her thigh.
Holy shit. I would have never pegged it. Soft girl got a baddie side.
“No!” I bite back at him while he’s out of focus, grabbing the next round from around my holster.
Stella’s little body crawls across the ground, dodging the flying bullets, before ducking behind the slab of concrete that houses top-shelf alcohol.
River and I share a look of disappointment, as I point to our wildcat. “Stay with her.”
War’s fingers wrap around my chin, forcing me still. “Listen to me. Bullets spraying aside, I love you. I need you to know that. I need you to know that whatever it is that you’ve been hiding from us, from me—” His eyes harden. “—I can handle it.”
They do know. Shit.
I swallow past the guilt knotting in my belly. “Not now.”
With a gentle release, I move backward from the table, ignoring the stabbing of glass biting into my knees. More bullets pour from the sky, and I draw in a deep breath. Not a second passes before I swing back to my feet, my gun aimed to the first one I see, and I start firing. His head disintegrates into fragments of brain matter and blood, before I move on to the next.
I make sure to stay low every few seconds and change location, busying myself through the room. It’s not long before I’ve bottomed out, and I toss the gun to the side, crawling beneath the table to check on everyone. Not a single person is down. That’s a good thing.
A semi slides over the marble floor, connecting with my knee, and I look up to find Mom with one in each hand as she fires. Tillie’s pink hair glows behind a white wall, an AK tight around her chest before Nate, Dad, Priest, War, and Vaden disappear through the smashed window, straight into the firing ground.
“Shit!”
A few more loud blows echo through the air before silence falls around us. I shuffle backward quickly, leaving a trail of blood from my hands.
I start to count. Dad. Mom. Vaden. War. Priest. Stella. River. Luna. Eli. Kyrin. Nate. Tillie. Brantley. Nan and Pop—though Pop looks hurt. Saint— Pop looks hurt.
I shove someone out of the way and as soon as I can reach him, my fist finds Pop’s gray suit. I don’t ask questions, simply tearing open the buttons to assess the damage, as my blood rushes through my veins the longer time goes on.
“My little hell-raiser. I’m okay. Flesh wound.” I ignore his words and grab his wrist, counting his beats per minute. Low, but steady.
My shoulders sag in relief, as I take a moment to check no one is within earshot. “We need to tell them, don’t we?”
Pop shuffles up against the wall, touching my cheek with the familiar coolness of his palm. “We do, princess.”
Then it hits me. This could all be because of her.
The flurry of mania has me spinning around, my eyes moving over the destruction of the room. Broken glass, food sprayed up the walls, smashed half-a-million-dollar bottle of brandy, empty guns, knives.
None of it matters. Just her. I need to find her.
“Halen!”
Someone calls my name, but I don’t care. The relentlessness to protect my family is crippling.
An arm catches my waist, forcing my attention. “Where is she?”
“Not. Here!” War’s eyes bounce between mine.
I exhale the simmering anger, turning my attention to the bodies littering the grass. Dressed in all black, with ski masks.
Familiar to that of Perdita.
I shove myself out from War and swing my leg through the window frame. As soon as my feet hit grass, I start ripping off the ski masks.
“Do you know anything about this, Amica?” Dad asks gently from behind me. Tonight is one of the rare occasions where we don’t have any wind, yet my eyes are bone dry, and a breeze rolls down my spine.
I force the tears off my face, clearing the emotion from my throat. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I don’t cry often, yet the thought of this being my fault, on top of what I’m already responsible for, is too much.
My hand flies to my mouth to conceal my sob but it’s too late. I’m too slow.
A blur of people charge to comfort me, but I wobble back, holding my hand up to stop them.
I can’t. I can’t say the words that I need to, not here. Not like this.
Dad has always been weird when it came to Pop. He always has been, and maybe he had his reasons to hate him. Scratch that, I know he had his reasons to hate him. But Priest and I don’t. I love him as much as any child can love their grandparent. Maybe I loved him even more because he was so messed up. But I knew. I knew that once everything came out, it would be catastrophic to the family, as much as it will be to the EKC.