Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 167671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Tears roll down my cheeks, but I still get up, grab Cora, and run like hell. Through the smoke, through my tears, through the pain in my legs, through all the horrors I’ve endured in my lifetime, I run, and no matter how far I have to go to keep her safe, I will get there, no matter the cost.
Her little hands hold me tightly. Despite everything we’ve been through, she still trusts me enough to take her to safety, so I will.
I jump over the bodies littering the hallways and bolt outside into the fresh air, where I heave and cough to get the smoke out of my lungs. Still, I keep running across the grass and the pavement, all the way to the locked gate.
Behind me, Stefano is catching up.
“Shit!” I hiss.
I put Cora down and grab a gun from one of the dead guards, then shoot off the lock.
I kick open the gate, grab Cora’s hand, and pull her with me toward Heath’s car. I tug at the door, and surprisingly, it opens. The key is still inside, probably so they could make a quick escape.
I jump in and put Cora on the passenger’s seat, then close the door, and hit the gas.
Right as that fucker Stefano runs up to the gates.
More flashes go off, and I can feel the car vibrate from the gunshots going into the metal as we drive off.
My heart is racing as fast as the car as I try to bring us to safety, but where the fuck do I go?
In a blind panic, I drive toward the only place I once deemed safe; my home.
I swerve through the streets, trying to get to my apartment building. We’re so close, I can almost taste the freedom. But every once in a while, I glance at Cora to make sure she’s still here with me because it all feels like a fever dream. She’s crying and shaking, traumatized by what happened, and I’m sorry that I don’t know what I could possibly do to fix this.
Suddenly, something jumps on my shoulder, and I freak out, nearly driving into someone crossing the street.
A familiar set of paws taps my cheek.
Bagel?
He jumps off me and onto Cora’s lap, where he settles, and she begins to pet him.
Why is he here?
A smile forms on Cora’s face. Even though I have no clue why Bagel is in Heath’s car, at least he brings Cora a little bit of happiness.
BAM!
Another car drives into my back end, and I scream as the car begins to swerve across the road.
I throw a glance in the rearview mirror. Stefano’s behind the wheel, menacingly glaring at me like he intends on driving us straight into hell.
This man won’t rest.
Not until we’re all dead and buried.
Grinding my teeth, I grab the steering wheel and hold on tight to regain control, but the car is being pushed forward by his.
Fuck. At this rate, we might crash.
He’s completely lost it.
He’d rather kill his own kid than let us escape?!
I jerk the wheel sideways to keep us from crashing straight into the wall of my apartment building. I brace for impact, shielding Cora with my body as the back of the trunk hits the corner of the wall and spins around.
Finally, we come to a stop against a fire hydrant, which bursts, water cascading all over the car’s roof.
I blink a couple of times. My head hurts, and my bruises sting, but I’m still alive … and so is Cora.
But when I look up into the rearview mirror, there he is again, slamming his car door shut as he waltzes over to our car.
I grasp Cora, who holds Bagel tightly, and kick open the door.
A blinding light radiates off the hood as a bullet skitters past us. I duck behind the wall and slip past, holding Cora tightly as we run into the building.
My heart is racing in my throat as I run up the stairs, dragging her along, while she barely manages to hold Bagel. We go all the way up to our floor, but my house is no longer safe. He knows where I live, so the only option I have left is…
I knock on Mrs. Schwartz’s door, and the second she opens up, I shove her aside and burst into her home uninvited.
I can see her yelling at me with a frying pan in her hand.
What … you … doing? I’m … cook!
I try to lip-read, but it’s hard when she’s mad.
I close the door and put my finger to my lips. “Please,” I mouth. “Help us.”
She makes a weird face. What … saying? Can’t … understand you.
Grunting, I grab a piece of paper, steal her lipstick, and write down the words: Hide us. Or we die.
Her eyes widen, and she immediately puts down her pan, grabs me, and ushers me into her bedroom. She points at the closet, so we get in and hide underneath her clothes.