Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
But I don’t have the luxury of time anymore.
There’s no breaking the news to her gently.
Not when this could break her if he pushes her into going through with the unthinkable.
When that gets no response, I try Nell again, just as Grant swerves the truck onto the off-ramp for Wrightsville Beach. I’m just about to hang up and try again.
But the call picks up.
I jerk forward hard enough to snap the seat belt against my throat, gasping as someone sniffles out a whisper.
“M-Miss... Miss Philia?”
“Nell! Honey, where are you? Are you okay?”
“You got her?” Grant’s head whips toward me.
I shove a hand against his cheek, urging him to keep his eyes on the road. “Nell, sweetie, talk to me.”
“I... I can’t,” she whispers, her voice tiny. “They’ll hear me. And he’ll get m-mad...”
“Who, Nell? Who’s scaring you? Where are you?”
“It’s... it’s a big boat,” she manages. “I hid in the trunk. I didn’t think Miss Ros would m-mind, but then the scary man was there and he said mean things to her. He made her get in the car, and I followed them on the boat. But I’m scared. I think he’s gonna hurt her!”
“Stay where you are, sweetie,” I say, clutching my phone tight, making my voice level. “Stay hidden. We’re on the way. We’re almost there, and we’ll make everything okay, I promise.”
“Hurry,” she pleads. “H-he... he’s—”
My heart becomes ice as she breaks off.
Followed by the sound of my sister’s voice in a chilling scream.
Then Nell screams too, belting out, “Miss Ros!”
I reach out helplessly like I can grasp them both, letting out a hurt cry of my own, my heart splitting apart.
“Rosalind! Grant, we have to hurry.”
23
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY (GRANT)
For a law abiding officer of peace, I’m sure as hell breaking at least a dozen laws right now.
Speed limit? I don’t know what the fuck it is in this mad flight to save my little girl and Philia’s sister.
I’m pretty sure I’ve cut a few people off without a turn signal, whipped around a couple semis, and left one red-faced old man shaking his fist and calling in my plate.
Ask me if I care.
Nothing else matters besides Ophelia’s pale, tear-streaked face.
Plus, those heart-wrenching screams I heard shrieking through her phone.
Ros.
Nelly-girl.
Both trapped with that blackhearted would-be-sister-fucking psychopath.
We go tearing through the town of Wrightsville Beach toward the docks without slowing down, weaving in and out of traffic. Horns bleat and tires squeal as pissed off bystanders rage around us.
A few sirens echo in the distance through the noise.
Good. That means the Wrightsville Beach PD actually paid attention.
Wish I’d brought my patrol car instead, but not having it doesn’t stop me from flying through the streets.
I can’t stop now.
I won’t.
Three women depend on me too much.
That’s all that keeps my brain running at the moment.
I’m still reeling from too many big shitty revelations hitting at once.
The sick and twisted machinations Aleksander Arrendell has been playing at, this long game built up bit by bit, carves a piece out of me I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.
Seriously. What the hell?
From day one, I wondered what he saw in her. I never believed the fairy-tale lovey-dovey bullshit coming from this vampire playboy for a minute.
A man like Aleksander Arrendell with fantastically high standards and warped tastes doesn’t just up and decide to shack up with the small-town girl on a whim.
Now it makes sense, and it fucking hurts that it does.
Seducing his own half sister into a marriage just so he can get his rocks off?
Getting her hooked on drugs?
Setting a trap to break her for his own sick pleasure?
That’s what he’s after.
Unfathomable cruelty.
And considering his serial killer brother, I’ve got an ugly feeling a man like him won’t just stop at psychologically breaking a woman, either.
That makes me stomp the gas.
That drives me on, knowing it’s life and death and I can’t have their blood on my hands.
I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t make it in time to—
There!
I can see the water glinting through the buildings.
“Hold on tight,” I growl, throwing out a hand to steady Ophelia as I wrench the wheel.
The truck rockets around the sharpest turn yet, practically rearing up on two wheels.
I’m glad as hell I remember that tactical driving I did for Uncle Sam in my old Guard days.
She doesn’t make a sound when she’s so frozen silent, but she clutches my arm, staring ahead and straining toward the windshield like she can somehow lean into the momentum and guide us to them faster.
I stomp the gas again and the truck lurches forward, bouncing around the turn and onto the narrow road leading down to the docks.
Boats of all sizes line up along the quay like overgrown toys, everything from little speedboats to cargo barges to one big, sleek ship towering over the rest.