Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Yeah, Dad, what about me,” I ask through gritted teeth. I thought I was being quiet, but all three of the guys look over at me. There's pity in Hero's eyes, and a terrifying sort of furor in King's.
Dad sighs heavily, his acting mask carefully donned. He looks distraught, his lower lip quivering, just like I've seen him practice in the mirror. His face is tight, like he's just been asked something terrible, something that he would rather just never had been brought up.
Before he responds, he grips the edges of the lectern firmly. “Intelligence leads me to believe that...” He trails off into a pause that's so uncharacteristic it amazes me that the reporters seem to be falling for it. “To believe that they have already killed her.”
Everyone in the room turns to look at me. There's so much sympathy in most of those stares that it's hard to believe it's the same gang that kidnapped me.
Meanwhile, I'm still processing what he just said. I know he loves to put on an act. I know he's trying to get a political advantage by using me. Even still, I'd never expected him to say… that.
The press room explodes in questions. How? Why? What evidence is there?
Dad sighs deeply. “You all saw the pictures those animals sent. My poor daughter with a gun to her head. I won't lie. My hope was to get her out with today's operation. However, based on the evidence we found before pulling back—and that I unfortunately cannot yet discuss—every indication is that she is…” He trails off again, like he can't bear to say it, but then he turns right into the camera and states with indisputable finality, “That she is dead.”
“What the fuck?” exclaims Wild Child. His touch on my thigh has turned into an angry grip, so tight it hurts a little.
I don't know how to feel. Outrage? Shock? Fury? Sadness?
Freedom?
How could he even…
“What these monsters don't realize is that they've now lost any hold they had over me. They've hurt me—deeply—but even worse, they've threatened this city, and all the people in it. I will not stand for it. My loss pains me deeply, but I couldn't value one life over the thousands in this city. My hope was of course that we would find her alive and bring her home, safe and sound, but the Screaming Eagles destroyed that dream. Crushed it. When I found out that she would never, ever come back to me… well, if this wasn't a war before, it is now.” He looks down, then right back into the camera, as if his eyes are right on me. And I can swear there's glee in them. Maybe I've finally managed to make him happy for once, even if it's by him pretending that I'm dead. “If you're out there, Screaming Eagles, watching this, know that you're about to get wiped off the map. Screaming, but in pain and terror and regret over what you've done to our community, and to my daughter. Remember, you brought this onto yourselves. Justice is coming.”
He’s got enough taglines to star in an action movie.
As my emotions sort themselves out, like the untangling of a yarn ball after a kitten got to it, I'm left with only a single strand. One final emotion.
Fury.
“How dare he?” My fists clench and I have to hold them still to keep from punching things. “How fucking dare he? He knows. He freaking—fucking knows. I know him. I know how he lies. There wasn't a single honest word out of his mouth during that whole speech.”
Apparently I've stood up. I don't remember doing it, but I'm shaking a fist at the TV and yelling. The room is quiet except for me and I don't even care. Things have gone wrong, so absolutely freaking wrong and I don't know what to do. I want to cry and scream and kick something until it stops moving.
“Why?” Hero looks almost as shocked as I feel, and he's just shaking his head while he looks at me like he can't comprehend it either.
“Isn't it obvious?” King answers before I can unknot my jaw to make more words. “If she's dead, there's no hostage. No hostage, and no one will blame him for going in guns blazing. Fuck, they'll cheer him on. He's now got sympathy, and if there's anything a red-blooded American loves, it's a good, old-fashioned vengeance story. He's got an excuse to bring out the big guns, and no one will stop him. He's been using Emily for a political piece, and he just sacrificed it.”
“Jesus fuck,” says Bear, shaking his shaggy head.
“Wait,” says Wild Child. “But she's alive. All she has to do is to let the world know, and it'll show what kind of a liar he is. It's not like we're going to actually fucking kill her.”