Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
My eyes close and I focus solely on my breathing.
“It’s going to be okay,” he soothes. “It’ll be over soon.”
It feels like a lifetime before Colton’s body relaxes just a fraction, wordlessly letting me know that they’ve moved on.
They continue to harass the staff, taunting and terrorizing them until finally, they walk out the doors, leaving nothing but disaster behind.
We wait until they’ve gotten in their cars and are flying through the broken iron gates before Colton lifts us off the cold ground. He places his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Are you alright?”
I shake my head. “Nothing about this is alright.”
His lips press into a tight line and I finally see the devastation behind his eyes. “I know,” he tells me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. “But we have to find a way to make it alright, otherwise we’ll never find the strength to move on.”
“There’s only one way to make this alright,” I insist.
Colton nods, meeting my eyes with nothing but rage. “I know.”
He keys in a code and the door quickly unlocks. We have to take a step back as it opens toward us and as we do, we get our first real glimpse into the room. It’s completely torn apart. I could see the damage done on the monitor but it certainly didn’t do it justice.
We start making our way out of the room and everywhere we go is pure devastation. Colton is going to have to get people in here to completely redo the mansion. The beds are torn apart, the walls have bullet holes, the artworks are completely trashed. It’s heartbreaking.
We reach the stairs and as we walk down them, I start to pick up our pace. “MOM?” I call out with desperation, my voice traveling far through the broken mansion. “Mom. They’re gone.”
I hit the bottom of the stairs and race toward the foyer only to meet Mom halfway there. She crashes into me, flinging her arms around me and crying into the crook of my neck. “Oh, honey. When I couldn’t reach you …” Her words are cut off by a broken sob and it tears right through to my soul.
“I know,” I tell her, holding her as tight as humanly possible. “I tried to go back for you, but Colton wouldn’t let me. I had to know you were safe.”
“He did the right thing,” she tells me. “I would have killed him myself had he let you go.”
Her use of the word ‘killed’ has my stomach twisting with pain and my eyes instantly fill with tears. “What’s wrong?” she demands, her eyes roaming all over me, starting from my head and not stopping until she reaches my toes.
Everything inside of me aches. “They killed her,” I cry through the lump in my throat. “He just … he shot her and she didn’t do anything.”
“Who?” mom demands, grabbing my shoulders with force, her eyes wide and fearful. “Who are you talking about?”
“Maryne.”
A pained wail tears out of Mom and she drops to her knees as she grieves for her lost friend. I go down with her, holding her the same way Colton had just done for me. Mom and Maryne had gotten close over the last few weeks. They were more than just colleagues, they were friends, really good friends. There was no one quite like Maryne.
Colton appears at my back, protectively hovering over us. He leans down and takes my mother’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Come on,” he murmurs. “We need to go and check on the other staff.”
Mom wipes her tears as Colton meets my eyes, knowing that breaking that news to Mom couldn't have been easy. He reaches for my hand and I take it instantly. Mom lets out a shaky breath. “You’re right,” she says, trying to be the strong adult of the group. “Are you sure all of them are gone?”
“Yes,” Colton says. “All five were counted as they made their escape.”
“Right,” she says formally, looking back to me, her bottom lip quivering as she tries to hold it together. “Where is Maryne’s body?”
“Private kitchen.”
With that, we all start making our way to the kitchen, bringing along the staff we find on the way.
I remember the day I walked in and found my father’s dead body. I didn’t know anything had happened to him and walking in to find him like that … nothing could prepare a daughter for that sight. The same had happened when I saw Charles’ body and I had assumed that it was because of the shock, but walking into the kitchen, already knowing and already prepared for what I’m about to see, it doesn’t change just how horrible it is.
I walk into the kitchen and instantly suck in a shocked gasp, stumbling over my feet and catching myself before I fall. Blood covers the kitchen and is sprayed all over the cabinetry. Silence falls among the staff as we take it all in but upon taking another step and seeing the smeared blood from the kitchen to the media room, everything inside of me sinks.