Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Safe, she’d said.
Whatever the fuck that meant to her.
*****
When the van doors opened at my cabin, I held Phebe close to my chest and stepped out into the breeze. She moaned in my arms as the wind lapped her broken skin.
Rider stood near the cabin with his medical bag in his hand. Lil’ Ash was standing in front of Flame’s door, and I could see Maddie in the window, trying to look on.
Flame marched straight to Ash, then through his cabin door. I walked on to mine, only glancing at the now shaven-headed prophet to say, “Follow me.”
I went straight through to my bedroom and laid Phebe down on the freshly made bed. Phebe moaned, back arched, when I stepped back. Her red eyebrows were furrowed, and her legs became restless.
Here we fucking go. I watched as the fingers on her left hand searched for the marks on her right. The fingernails began scratching, looking for the injection of heroin.
“Can I . . .?” a voice asked from behind me. I looked back at Rider in the doorway. But the prick’s eyes weren’t even on me; they were on Phebe.
“Go ahead.” I stepped back.
“Shit,” Rider muttered under his breath as he dropped to his knees and opened his bag. He winced as he took in her injuries. The hand that was running over Phebe’s arms and legs stopped mid-air and clenched into a fist.
“I’m sorry,” Rider said to Phebe. If I wasn’t mistaken, the asshole’s voice cracked. His head dropped and shook from side to side. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
My eyes narrowed, watching him with her, and my chest tightened at how he spoke to her. I knew he knew her. I knew his psycho twin was fucking her for the longest time. But I didn’t like how close Rider was to her. Some damn stabbing in my chest didn’t like how familiar he was with her.
“She’s been raped and beaten. Don’t know for how long.” Rider turned his head to listen to me, and I swear the fucker wiped his eyes. “She’s on smack too. Meister cunt keeps all the girls on that shit.”
Switching from friend to doctor, Rider stood and began checking all Phebe’s cuts. “I need towels and water. We’ve gotta clean her up.”
Footsteps sounded from the hallway. I looked over; Ash was already gathering what Rider had asked for. I hadn’t even seen the kid was there. When he came back, I raised my eyebrow in question.
“Thought you might need me,” he said.
I ruffled the kid’s dark hair and took the water from him. I put it down beside Rider, and Ash handed over the towels. “Wait in the kitchen, kid,” I ordered.
I watched as Rider cleaned Phebe and began stitching her up. He moved to her pussy and the damage that’d been done there. I tensed. To be fair to Prophet Prick, the fucker was clinical and kinda fucking professional. But watching him near her cunt had me almost murdering mad. So I focused on Phebe’s face, on her eyes, which kept rolling open and closed. Her lips parted, and her tongue ran along her cracked flesh. “She needs water,” Rider said as he stitched along a slash on her thigh.
Teeth gritted, I stormed to the kitchen and past Ash, who was sitting at the table. I got a clean glass and filled it with water. When I went back to the bedroom, I held it out for Rider. The ex-brother looked at my hand. “You’ll have to do it. I have to close these cuts so they don’t get infected.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I moved to the head of the bed and sat on the edge. Phebe groaned and rolled her head in my direction. Her eyes opened, and her fucking blue gaze landed straight on me. Her lips twitched; my body tensed, wondering if the bitch was gonna try and smile at me again. But she gasped with thirst, so I gently pushed my hand around the back of her head and tilted her neck. Phebe’s rail-thin body was as light as a feather. She made pained sounds as I moved her, but all the time her glazed eyes never left mine. I swallowed back a fucking lump that was making its way up my throat. And fuck me, but my hand holding the glass was shaking. I shut my eyes and ordered myself to get my shit together. But before I could, I was thrust back there. I felt the sweat run down the back of my neck. I felt the dry air filling my lungs. I felt the dirt floor beneath my knees and felt his hand in my hand as I gripped onto him hard. I felt the fucking tears building under my closed lids as I smelled him—the blood, piss and shit from days and days of torture.