Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Her comment pisses me off. I do understand this. That fucker single handedly killed my entire family and destroyed the one person left that I care anything for.
"Don't say that to me." My eyes land on the picture of my mother and sister before drifting back to Tor. "I understand plenty," I growl.
She drags her hands through her hair and picks up the bag again. "Fine. I'm telling you, you can't stop me," she dismisses, shoving past me and walking into the bedroom. "You don't own me."
A flash of anger jolts through me, and before I realize what I'm doing, I grab her and shove her against the wall, pinning her to it with one hand. I brace myself with my other hand as I place my face inches from hers, my jaw clenched. "You will do what the fuck I tell you to do. I don't own you but damn it, I know what's best for you. You will not do this to me. Do you hear me?" I remove my hand from the wall, and she flinches away from me, squeezing her eyes shut and bringing her hands up to protect her face.
Shit. She thought I was going to hit her. She's conditioned to this now. I am going to fucking slaughter, Joe. "Fuck, I'm... sorry, Tor. I'm sorry." I reach for her cautiously, gently brushing my fingers down her cheek, and she slowly lowers her arms. Her face is pale, her eyes unfocused. I cup her face in both hands and stare into her eyes. "I would never hurt you, doll. I—I just can't let anything happen to you." Her eyes drop to the floor.
I press a kiss against her forehead, inhaling her delicate scent. This right here is terrifying—when someone becomes this vital to you, it's the realest fear in the world.
"I would never hurt you," I whisper. "I promise." I hold her tightly for a few seconds before she finally relaxes against me.
"You okay?" I ask her.
She nods.
"We'll leave, okay?" I say as I push away from her and walk into the bathroom.
I stare at my reflection for a moment before I grab the mirror with both hands and throw it to the ground. The glass shatters and sprays all over the floor.
She appears in the bathroom doorway; her small figure swamped by my t-shirt. "What are you doing?" she asks, fiddling with a strand of hair.
I stare at the now exposed hole in the plaster. Stacks of cash are piled up like you'd find in a bank vault. "Getting my shit together," I mumble. "Bring me one of those suitcases, would you, doll?"
She drags the suitcase in, her eyes trained on the wall. She watches as I fill the suitcase up with money, never asking me anything. By now she knows how shit runs. I'm a fucking bookie. Bookies can't go to the bank. My house is a fucking bank.
Marney helps me continue ransacking the house. We bust up walls, rip up floorboards until we've stuffed every last dime into those suitcases. I have no idea how much money is there. It's well up into the millions, ten years' worth of work. And it's definitely enough to take care of us for the rest of our lives, and that's all I'm concerned about, taking care of us. Taking care of her.
I toss the bags onto the stairs and go to get her from the room. "Come on," I say as open the door, but she's not in here. I turn and stare down the hallway, noticing that Caleb's bedroom door is cracked.
I inhale and slowly push the door open. She's sat on the bed, clutching a photograph of Caleb to her chest. "Come on, let's go," I say softly. She pulls the picture away and stares at it before she stands up and silently walks past me. Taking one last look around my little brothers room, I gently close the door, grabbing the bags and following Tor outside.
Marney is waiting for us beside the car. I hand the suitcase to him as I say, "Put it in the car."
I place my hand on the small of Tor's back and guide her to the rear door, holding it open. "Get her in the car."
She climbs in, looking lost, and my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen. There's a text from an unknown number: I love watching you break. A video is attached. I stare at the phone, my throat tightening. I pull in a long breath as I delete the text. I will not fucking let him do this to me. I will take the upper hand.
"I'll be back soon, okay?" I say. Her eyes meet mine, and she nods.
I head toward the overgrown shed, forcing the rusted door open. The smell of mildew and gasoline overpowers me. I spot two tanks of gasoline and grab them. On my way to the house, I pause to glance at the headstones buried behind the tree line. Do not let this sadness overtake you. Fucking anger. Wrath. That is what I need.