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)
I don’t care.
The open road goes on for what feels like an eternity before the fabled hill of Bayonet swells so high that it looks like the end of the world.
I drop it into second and press my foot down until it redlines, before double shifting into fourth, then fifth. Headlights glow in my side mirror as River’s S13 slides out into the other lane, launching up, and ducking right behind me.
I bite on my laugh as Evie turns up the music.
“Are you only doing this because the boys aren’t here?” Evie turns to face me.
“Nope. I’d do it if they were too.”
I fly over the hill as the rubble of what’s left of Bayonet Falls appears. It’s all shadows and malevolent structures, but if I squint my eyes, I can make out the old Ferris wheel that’s snapped in half.
We continue through the main street with a loud purr of import engines, passing the Bayonet Falls sign that hangs from rusted nails, before continuing through the township. Buildings with boarded-up windows and burned-out cars roll by as I release my foot from the accelerator to slow. Graffiti litters the walls with a kaleidoscopic palette, and abandonment aside, it’s surprisingly tidy.
My headlights beacon on a tortured structure that crests up to the sky in an arch, with the words Cirque de Diavolo written below a bilious clown with blood dripping from its mouth.
“Dang.” Evie is still staring up at the sign as we drive through the archway. “What kind of shit went on here? How’d they all get booted?”
I park my car in the middle of the parking lot, shifting into neutral and leaving it to idle as Riv pulls up beside me. It doesn’t take long for everyone to pile out of their cars and park in their little cliques. I hadn’t even hit my window down to talk with Stel when a KE30 starts ripping up its tires.
I slip out of the driver's seat and slam my door closed. In a flurry of raven hair, she unfolds from the passenger side. “Damn. This place is actually creepy, but I love it.”
Music is playing from one of the vans in the corner, the smoke and screeching of tires sending a thrill through my body.
“I know!” For a couple weeks now, I wanted to come by and check it out. I didn’t know it would splinter my spine with its creep factor until I got here.
Now I kind of want to know the history of the town.
Around fifty cars are parked up here tonight. It’s just what I needed after Perdita, but is also why when three luxury cars roll through and park directly opposite us, I notice them.
Rolls Royces aside. Nice. The kind of rides our daddy’s drive.
Thankfully, no one outside of us notices the newcomers since they’re all too busy enjoying a lawless space.
The door of the middle Rolls swings open but no one appears. “Halen, show you’re not carrying…”
A smirk touches the side of my mouth as I stretch my arms wide. I’d recognize that voice if it was blended with ten others. “Would you like me to strip for you, Bas?”
“Well now, that wouldn’t be very I promise not to tell people we fucked in the back of War Malum’s car after he denied you of me, would it?” Bas boasts as he closes his door.
I fluff up my cropped racing jacket, doing a three-sixty. I’m in a crop top, black cargo pants, and Jordans. “You can see my belly, Bas, I’m not wearing a holster.”
“What are you doing here, Hayes?” He leans against the hood of his car, crossing his legs at his ankles.
Finally, I step to the side of my own, matching his stance.
He reaches into the pocket of his slacks and takes out a packet of cigarettes, biting one into his mouth. His hair is as dark as Vaden’s, but his eyes are so brown that they’re almost hematic. His cheekbones are shaved sharp, but his lips are thin. His nose is slightly bent from being hit in the face one too many times, but all it does is fail at trying to hide his classically handsome features.
He’s hot.
Actually, that’s probably being modest. When you’ve been surrounded by beauty all your life, it bores you.
Show me someone with scars. The kind that makes people quiver with fear, and I’ll show you my kind of beauty.
“Maybe I’m just here for innocent fun?” I bat my lashes at him to add to my pseudo.
He snickers. “Doubtful. Do your daddy and sociopathic brother know you’re here?”
My smile falls an inch before I collect myself. “What, forty minutes up the road?” I’m bluffing, and if Bas remembers correctly, he’ll know it.
He puffs on his cigarette, the end crackling amber. For a moment, I forget where we are until a car backfires and laughter and music filter through once more. “What I want to know is, what you’re doing here.” I lean forward. “Are you following me?”