Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Get in the car.”
My eyes widened. “In your car?”
“Yes, in my car. Get in.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re coming home with me.” On that note, he turned and started strolling away, leaving me chasing his heels.
“But, Mister—”
“Do you have anywhere else to go?” He continued walking, passing his gun to one of his men when he reached his shiny Merc.
“No.”
Lowering to his seat, he left the door open, looking at me standing outside his car. “You didn’t even flinch when he cuffed you.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Besides,” I went on, feeling my scrawny chest puffing out, like this big, imposing stranger might be impressed, “I would never let him see even if it did.”
He smiled. It was a broad smile, and I got the feeling they didn’t happen often. “I don’t give second chances.”
I got straight in the car.
Prologue - Part 2
Miami—Ten Years Ago
* * *
ROSE
* * *
The pain was unbearable. My whole body contorted, tensing, trying to stem it. My bare back grazed the concrete stones beneath it, ripping at my flesh through my torn T-shirt as I squirmed, clenching my tummy, my cries high and howling. My long, dark, scraggly hair was wet with sweat and sticking to my face. It was suffocating. I thought I’d pass out at any moment. Maybe it would be best. Unconsciousness felt like the only way out of the endless pit of pain. Or death. But I didn’t want to die, especially since I finally had something to live for.
I don’t know how long I’d been there. Hours. Days. Forever? My life felt like one big hole of agony.
When would this be over?
I rolled onto my side and curled up, making myself as small as possible. I was alone. Fifteen years old, just a girl, and I was alone.
Always had been. Why now that hurt almost as much as the physical agony was beyond me. I cried. I screamed. Wave after wave of pain kept coming and coming. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it. I was helpless, at its mercy.
“You silly girl.”
The voice pierced the darkness and my pain, replacing it with fear. I quickly sat up and scrambled back until my back hit the rough bricks of the wall. I don’t know why. There was no escaping him.
His expensive dress shoes hit the concrete before me, getting louder, more threatening as he got closer. He bent down, getting my cowering frame in his sights.
And he smiled. He smiled so wide. “Let’s get you home, Rose.” He stood and clicked his fingers, magically making five men appear. Two scooped me up, just as another wave of pain took hold, bowing my back and having me wail in their arms.
“She’s bleeding everywhere, for fuck’s sake,” one man grumbled, looking at me like I was the most disgusting creature in the universe. I said nothing. Accepted their revulsion. It was ironic that either of the two men carrying me might have been the reason for my state. I was virtually tossed onto the back seat of his swanky car, and then driven back to the place I’d not long escaped. The whole time, my fears started to counterbalance the pain.
When we arrived, I was put in a wheelchair and rolled to a private room. Laid on the bed. Hooked up to machinery.
A nurse hovered over me, as the men who’d carried me in guarded the door, ensuring I wouldn’t escape again. I couldn’t now if I wanted to. Fear paralyzed me and pain ruled me.
Then I heard it.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I dropped my head to the side and watched a glowing line slowly and consistently jump.
“It’s weak, but there’s still a heartbeat,” a nurse said, looking back to the door when he walked in, joining his men.
He gave me a look to suggest that I’d just dodged death by a whisper. I knew I had. But what about after this nightmare? Would it be worth surviving? And would this nightmare ever end?
“Time to push, girl,” the nurse said, just as I was ambushed by another contraction, this one worse than any of the others. I threw my head back and screamed my way through it, begging and praying for relief.
It took two pushes before a tiny body was dropped onto my chest, and I looked down, finding a little head covered in blood. Panic soon set in. My baby wasn’t crying.
“A boy,” the nurse said, wiping at his little face roughly.
“Is it alive?” he asked from the door.
It. My son was an it. A nameless lump of life to the cold bastard by the door. To me, he was everything.
The nurse slapped the perfect skin on my son’s ass, and then he screamed. He screamed so loud, like a message to the world that he’d arrived. I sighed and flopped back as the nurse cut his cord and lifted him to my breast.