Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
My head swam. This was all too much. I backed away and dropped back down on the bed. What if the dogs found a way inside? They would probably tear me into tiny shreds. That was what they had been bred and trained for. Rumors said that Falcone made millions with bets on dog fights.
My heart sank. I would never be able to leave the house without the dogs noticing. Even if I managed to creep past Growl, and even that seemed unlikely considering his vigilance, the dogs were an insurmountable obstacle.
I curled myself into a tight ball on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. It smelled stale, unused. Growl probably didn’t have many overnight guests. The idea almost made me laugh. I wrapped my arms around my legs and closed my eyes. Outside a couple was screaming obscenities at each other, cars were driving by with screeching tires, and doors were slammed.
I wasn’t sure how long I was lying like that but night fell around me and with it came a bone-chilling silence. I wanted the screaming and banging and screeching wheels back. This utter silence made me feel as if I were already dead.
I listened harder for sounds and then wished I hadn’t because suddenly there was scratching and creaking and rustling. I wasn’t sure what of it my mind had conjured and what was reality. I was tired and thirsty and hungry. Maybe I’d die from thirst or hunger. Maybe Growl would just forget about me. Starving couldn’t be that bad compared to what might lie in my future if I stayed alive, could it?
Stop it.
I had to stop these crazy thoughts. Going crazy wouldn’t get me out of here. I needed to keep my wits about me, needed to figure out a plan. An image of my mother and Talia flashed behind my closed eyelids, so vivid as if they were right before me. Happiness and deep sadness overcame me at the image. Would this memory be the only thing left of them? Would I ever see them again?
Tears welled in my eyes and I didn’t stop them, let them squeeze past my lids and trail down my cheeks. It felt good, a relief after pretending to be strong. I wasn’t, not really, but maybe I could learn. My family, what was left of it, I could be strong for them. If not for me, at least for them, I could gather what little courage I possessed and fight against Growl. Again. And again, until one day, perhaps I’d escape my prison.
Growl
He hated feeling. Hated the sharpness and intensity of it. Hated being reminded that he was still human in that regard. He needed to be the monster everyone expected of him, he wanted to be that monster.
He’d fought so hard to be something, anything, more than the bastard and the scar around his throat, more than the son of a whore, more. Always more.
He pushed the gas pedal hard. Perhaps he should have run. He needed to get rid of that excess energy, of that dangerous tightness encompassing his chest. But where he needed to go was too far. He couldn’t wait that long. He needed to release some tension now. Needed to get rid of that sensation in his body. He needed to become himself again. Needed to remind himself.
In the past he had to do so almost daily. Convince himself of his worth, of who he was but recently he had felt like he’d arrived, and now that girl so out of his league was ruining everything.
He pulled up in front of the Baton Rouge in the non-parking zone, ignoring the car behind him that honked. He threw open the door and got out of the car. The bouncer didn’t say a word about the hazardous way Growl had parked, only took a step back as Growl stalked past him without a word of greeting. Growl was almost sad the asshole hadn’t told him off. He wanted to break bones, wanted to maim and kill.
The inside of the brothel was stuffed with whores and their johns. There was false laughter and too sweet perfume. There was sweat and sex and smoke in the air. There was a tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
Some of the tightness in Growl’s chest loosened. This was familiar. This was what he needed. A few whores glanced his way, then quickly away, hoping he’d choose someone else. Their refusal didn’t matter. He’d never cared for their opinion. He’d had them all and most of them were not worth his time. They couldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed.
But there was someone who could, who liked to scratch and bite, who liked it hard and merciless.
Lola had turned away from her potential suitor, a fat asshole in a dark suit. Growl didn’t know the man, so he didn’t matter. Growl knew everyone who mattered in this town, everyone you shouldn’t cross, and most of them were clever enough not to get in his way anyway.