Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I think of my wife in her room. How many times she must have tried to tell me, and I would not hear it. How close she could have come to facing execution if it weren't for this revelation.
I am not familiar with these churning emotions deep in my gut. They are feelings I don't recognize, but I think perhaps it is guilt.
It appears that nothing is as simple as it seems, and if I was so wrong about this, it leaves me to question my resolve on other matters. The matter of Ivy's family. Her father was poisoned, but by who? At some point, I will need to go to the hospital.
He's been asking to see me since he awoke. A fact not even Ivy or Abel is aware of. The moment the doctor informed me, I had him placed on restricted lockdown while he recovers. The only visitor he is allowed right now is me, and so far, it hasn't proven to be an issue, considering his own family hasn't been to see him in some time. As far as they know, he is still in the same unyielding condition. They are all oblivious to his progress, and he is painfully aware that they are not at his bedside while he fights to regain his strength.
I am still determined to take his life and exact my revenge. It's the only logical conclusion to this scenario. The only way I can ever know peace. But there is no pleasure in snuffing out a sick, weak man. I need him at his best, whatever capacity that may be when he’s fully recovered. I need him to feel the immense deal of pain he will face and remember every agonizing detail.
Except, I can't help considering how that might sour Ivy against me. Right now, she is... different. Instead of running away, she is leaning into me. Stealing opportunities to touch me. In place of her hatred, there is something... more. Something sweeter. Softer.
I feel it. And I don't want to admit that I will be at a loss without it when she realizes what my plans are for her father. Once I carry them out.
But what about her? Can I follow through on my threats to her?
My eyes are bleary as I watch her on the screen. A goddess in black and gold silk. A butterfly with only one wing. How fitting it is.
With painstaking clarity, a realization hits me without warning.
I can't kill her.
Because I don't want to.
My eyes shutter closed, under the weight of exhaustion and delirium, and that's the last peaceful thought I have.
No, I won’t kill her.
I will keep her instead.
* * *
"Santiago."
A strangled groan rumbles from my chest as her fingers stroke my hair back from my face.
"Hmm?"
My eyes are so heavy, it is difficult to open them. But I can feel her weight in my lap. Her scent surrounding me. The warmth of her body pressing against mine.
"You need to sleep," she says softly.
I half nod. Sleep sounds good.
I'm not thinking clearly when I scoop her up into my arms and stagger to my feet. Ivy lets out a soft little laugh, and I freeze, opening my eyes to look at her.
"You're delirious," she says, amused. "Put me down."
"I've never heard you laugh." The words are strained when they leave my lips.
Her face sombers, and she gives me a gentle nod. "I know."
I force my rigid body forward, carrying her down the corridor and upstairs despite her protests. I'm not thinking clearly, but it only becomes evident when I enter my own bedroom and spread her across my bed before I collapse beside her.
She works to free some of the bed covers, pulling them over us. I'm already falling asleep again when I reach out and grab her waist, tugging her against me like a caveman.
Ivy lets out a little sigh, burrowing deeper into my body as I bury my face in her hair and inhale her. She smells so good, and I don’t want to let her go. I'm not thinking about the consequences of what I'm doing right now. Not until I start to drift off, and she touches my arm, and I jerk awake, startled.
She blinks up at me, confused.
"Did I hurt you?" I ask.
She frowns. "What?"
"This isn't a good idea," I mumble almost incoherently. "You shouldn't be in here. Not safe."
"You won't hurt me," she whispers, curling into me and kissing my jaw. "I know you won't."
There's an argument somewhere in my mind. Logic trying to alert me to its presence. But logic isn't winning when I close my eyes and breathe her in. One breath becomes two, and two becomes three, and soon I am drifting off into peaceful oblivion.
23
Santiago
Fire.
Fire in my lungs. Fire on my skin. Thick black smoke curls around me as I crawl, dragging my useless body. Searching. Screams pierce my ears, but I can't find them. They are all around me, reverberating like a nightmare.