Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 79959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Yeah, that happens when people fucking feed you,” I spat angrily to cover my ridiculous inner battle with my self-confidence.
V's shoulder shrugged, his smile spread. “Still got a lot of fight in you, huh?” he asked, turning his smile on Martin, sharing something silently.
Martin spoke next, to V, “Yeah, it's gonna take double the effort, I think, to break her this time.”
Break me.
They never broke me.
And I felt the need to let them know.
“Break me, huh?” I laughed a little hysterically. “Is that what you think you did? Because I'm pretty sure a broken person doesn't escape her tormentors and then get the pleasure,” I said, twisting my head to glare at Martin, “of beating the ever loving shit out of one of the men who used to beat her.” I paused, watching Martin's eyes get tight. “And then order his death. Happily.”
There was a spark of surprise in his eyes before he tramped it down. I turned my head to look at V whose smile, somehow, had widened even further.
“We figured Deke had met with some... difficulties.”
“If by 'difficulties' you mean had the life beat out of him, then yes. Yes, he did.”
V laughed, waving a hand. “He was disposable,” he said casually.
I felt Martin tense behind me, knowing, I guessed, that he realized that if Deke was disposable, so was he. Must have hurt his pride a little. “Hear that, Martin?” I asked, carelessly poking the sleeping bear, “It sounds like you're disposable too.”
I was rewarded by being thrown forward.
Wrists cuffed, there was nothing I could do to break my fall but round my shoulders so my head didn't crack fully onto the pavement of the driveway.
I might as well not have even bothered.
My head smacked hard, sending a swirling black through my consciousness that I fought hard as the pounding started in my temple and I felt the hot trace of blood running down the side of my face.
“That was hardly necessary,” V said casually as if Martin had just spoken out of turn instead of given me a fucking concussion.
I saw V's feet move and knew that he was the one who pulled me back onto my feet. I pulled my lip in slightly, licking the blood off of it. “I don't know, V, it looks like you're losing control of your men.”
To my surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. It was full. Hearty. Like he hadn't heard a joke that funny in ages.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he said, looking at me, still grinning like a mad man, shaking his head like he was talking to a silly child. “I had thought you would have figured it out by now.”
Figured it out? Figured what out? What was I missing?
“Hey, I don't think...” Martin broke in, sounding like he was uncomfortable, like V was saying something he shouldn't.
V waved a hand, brushing Martin's concerns aside. “Things have changed, Mart,” he informed him. “Time the truth came out.”
“You're sure that...”
“I'm sure,” he said, his words firm. Then he turned his focus back on me and the smile picked up again. “You're not as clever as I thought you were. That's unfortunate.”
“Oh, please let me tell you how much it hurts that you low life pieces of shit are disappointed in me,” I said dryly.
To this, he chuckled. “At least you found that spunk. I knew it was in there somewhere.”
I rolled my eyes, suddenly realizing I would rather a beating than useless freaking banter in the god damn driveway. “Are you going to bring me to the basement or stand here gabbing all day, V?” I asked.
His head titled, his smile falling to a smirk. “That's just it, Summer. That's just what you have missed.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I'm not V.”
I felt my face fall. My mouth opened slightly, my eyes got wide. He wasn't V? What? How was he not V? Everyone called him V. That made no sense. At all.
“In fact, I believe it is time for you to meet the real V,” he informed me, jerking his head at Martin who started shoving me forward.
So I followed Not-V up the pathway, into the entrance, past the huge staircase that led up to my old prison upstairs. Not-V turned down the hallway that I had a vague recollection of leading into the kitchen. I felt myself pause, my legs not willing to keep moving. My mind just simply... not ready for any more surprises. Any more shocks to my system. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't deal with any more. I was done.
Martin made a grunting noise, bringing up his knee and hitting it hard into my lower back, making me stumble forward a few steps.
I had no choice, so I kept walking. The kitchen was a massive area of warm brown tile, stainless steel, and a huge island. Not-V was standing in the doorway, half blocking it, a weird smile on his face. Like he was enjoying it. Like he was anticipating my reaction. Which could only mean that who I was about to face was going to scare the ever loving shit out of me. That was the only explanation
Then he moved to the side, watching my face hard. “V, here she is,” he said.
And then there was V. And I just collapsed back against Martin. “Mom?”
Twenty-four
Summer
V.
Veronica.
Veronica Lyon.
My mother.
No. No fucking way. No no no no.
Martin shoved me away, making a strange disgusted noise, moving to go stand next to Not-V who was smiling like a maniac still. Like this was the most entertainment he had gotten in months.
I looked at my mother. A mother I had no actual memory of. A mother who was nothing more than a single picture on the mantle in the formal sitting room. A picture that was taken with her smiling beautifully, her gray eyes shining bright, her red hair flowing around her shoulders.
I had no memories of her. Of her brushing my hair or kissing my skinned knees. I didn't know what her voice sounded like. I didn't know what perfume she wore.