Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I fold it back up. I try not to cry, and I wonder if this is my dad’s last blessing to the Family. Had something happened, my mom would have woken me up, right?
Everything is so fucking confusing that I truly don’t know what to do. I have no clue where to look, at my cousins, at the whole point that someone wants to kill me and nearly did the same with my parents?
If I was reading this book, I’d probably toss it against the wall and be like, what else can go wrong? And who the hell’s going to help me fix this?
My stomach feels sick, my chest heavy, my heart not beating the way it’s supposed to; despite the guilt I have that it’s still beating when I have no idea if my dad is doing anything beyond just attempting to keep himself alive.
I hang my head in my hands, the folded paper falls to the floor.
“He loves you.” Del’s sleep-filled voice fills the air.
I don’t look up. “Is there a reason you slept by the door?”
“Of course,” she says. I expect her to say that Roman was closer, that everything’s done, that I don’t get a few more days or that she was sick of me even though we had one of the best nights I can remember in my entire existence. “A good queen guards her king. A good knight doesn’t just fall asleep on the job because they feel safe; they extend that safety to the person who needs the most protection.” Her hand presses against my shoulder. “You.”
I grip it. “Is that the real reason?” I want to believe her. God, do I want to believe her, but I don’t know anything anymore.
I’m lost.
I’m a ship at sea ready to be wrecked against the rocks screaming for help, and nobody can hear me.
Maybe because it feels like nobody is listening, and the only man I want to hear can’t.
He fucking can’t.
I start to hyperventilate for a minute, and then Del’s pulling me from the bed onto the floor. She lays my head in her lap, and she starts to sing.
It’s a song I remember my mom singing when I was little. “Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home.” Her voice is beautiful; it’s perfectly pitched and easy to listen to. “Swing low sweet chariot coming for to carry me home.” Her voice catches. “I looked over Jordan and what did I see, coming for to carry me home.” A knock sounds at the door.
I don’t move.
The door opens.
And she keeps singing. “A band of angels coming after me, coming for to carry me home.”
Footsteps sound against the hardwood. I can tell it’s more than one person. I can feel the sadness in the air; I cling to her still.
I need her more than the next breath my lungs are attempting to breathe, more than the next beat of my heart. My hands instinctively go to her clothes and tug, I tug because I need something to hold on to, and she lets me. She holds me closer, pressing my head against her chest.
A tear falls down my cheek.
Hers, not mine. “Swing low, sweet chariot coming for to carry me home.” Her breath catches.
Someone sits next to her; someone else follows until I feel the air around me move.
“Swing low sweet chariot coming for to carry me home.” She almost can’t finish it. I can tell something is happening; I feel it in the wind in the room; I feel it in how each breath tastes.
“If you get there, before I do.” A new voice joins her. Serena, I think, maybe Izzy, and then it isn’t just them, it’s every one of my friends, my cousins sitting around us. “Coming for to carry me home.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as they continue. A hand presses against my back; it’s massive, so it has to be one of the guys.
I look up, and Maksim is hovering near me, both hands on my back rubbing, and he’s singing, tears in his eyes. “Tell all my friends I’m coming too,” he whispers. “Coming for to carry me home.”
Tears stream down my cheeks because I know the only reason every single one of the second generation would be in my bedroom in the morning and why it would be so quiet despite the singing.
Why she would have slept by the door despite her original reasons.
Protecting me until it was time.
Slowly, I rise to a sitting position and whisper, “Tell me.”
Junior can’t meet my eyes. Ash is holding onto Annie hard, his typically arrogant face pale.
Valerian and Tank are with their wives in the corner watching.
Serena’s on the floor, looking down.
But Maksim, my best friend and brother, Maksim is the closest; he grabs my hand and slowly pulls me to a standing position. “We’re not sure he’s going to make it.”