Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I figured it didn’t really matter either way. Things hadn’t gone south for them. We were still being hunted.
I picked at my food, wondering how long we’d be able to stay at Poet’s little house. While it was a relief to be there, it was temporary. Soon, we’d be on the move again, racing toward Eugene and a whole group of people who would both fight to the death for me and didn’t want anything to do with me. I was anxious to be there, safe behind the walls of the clubhouse, but I also dreaded it.
I could only choke down a few bites of my food before I couldn’t make myself eat any more. Folding my plate in half to hide the leftovers, I got to my feet and carried it into the kitchen garbage.
“You have to eat more than that,” Mark said softly, his hands wrapping around my waist from behind. He was always gentle and avoided my stitches, but I still cringed until I realized that he hadn’t hurt me.
I nodded and sighed, gingerly leaning back against him. I was so angry with him, but I was so glad for his presence. Our conversation back in Sacramento had opened wounds that I’d thought were healed. It had been years since I’d let myself think about the way he’d left me, about the helpless rage and panic I’d felt, about the decisions that had come afterward.
I was also so grateful he was with me that I could’ve fallen to my knees and wept. He made me feel safe. Having my brother and dad around comforted me, too, but it was a different kind of safety with Mark. He knew me in a way they didn’t, even after all those years apart.
“I think we’re going to try to make contact,” Mark said, leaning forward a little so his cheek was against my temple. “Anonymously reach out to the highest men in the organization with what we know.”
I fought the tensing of my muscles as he spoke.
“If they aren’t receptive, we’ll do it another way,” he said, his thumb gently smoothing back and forth over my ribs. “But, best case scenario, they take care of it in-house and we don’t have to deal with any of it.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that I’d never be safe that way. That even if Drake was dead, we didn’t know whether or not the militia would come after me and Olive anyway. If Drake was dead, all of the Warren money would be legally Olive’s, and while I never planned on going through the channels to get it, the fact that she was out there with that kind of power may be reason enough for the militia to hunt us down. I wanted to point out that telling them about Drake might not have the effect they were hoping for because Cane was financing them. If Drake was dead, that money flow would dry up instantly. It would be infinitely better for them to keep Drake alive.
I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Not a single noise. My hands fisted at my sides. I needed to speak. I reached out and smacked the countertop hard, the sound reverberating through the small house. Unfortunately, it didn’t relieve the frustration I was feeling. Instead, the noise scared the shit out of me and I froze, my heart racing as I fell into a full-blown panic attack.
I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made that sound. My eyes went to the darkness outside the window. There were no curtains, and the feeling of being watched became so strong that I jerked out of Mark’s arms and dropped to the floor so I couldn’t be seen.
“Cecilia? What the fuck?”
“What happened?” my brother asked from somewhere above me.
“I have no idea,” Mark replied. He reached for me as I curled myself into a ball against the cupboards. “She smacked the counter and then dropped.”
“Is she okay?”
“She did it on purpose,” Mark said in confusion.
I watched as my brother’s eyebrows furrowed and he strode toward the back door. “She see something out there?”
“I was lookin’, too,” Mark said in frustration as I slapped his hand away from my arm. “I didn’t see shit.”
“I’ll check, anyway,” Cam said, stomping outside.
“CeeCee?” my mom asked. “What’s going on, honey?”
I looked past her. Olive was asleep on the bed all the way across the house. She was all alone in there.
Still conscious of the watchers outside the window, I started crawling toward the bedroom.
“The fuck are you doin’?” my dad asked, getting up from his seat.
I ignored him, jerking away from Mark as he tried again to lift me to my feet. My focus was absolute, even as I felt the stitches pulling against my movements and my head throbbed. I just had to make it to the bedroom without anyone outside seeing me. If they saw me, they’d know where she was.