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)
We follow the tracks, being careful not to step into any of her spilled blood and disturb the murder scene. As we get to the open door, we find Harrison silently weeping as he holds onto Maryne’s lifeless body, refusing to let her go.
Tears flow down my cheeks as my chest really begins to ache. “Oh, Harrison,” Mom cries, rushing into his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering him all of her support and comfort.
As I watch them together, I can’t help but wonder if Colton and I are cursed. Every time we finally climb over a hurdle and open ourselves up to one another, tragedy strikes. Is this our doing? Should we just stay away from each other to ensure the safety of our friends and family?
As the torturous thoughts roam wildly through my mind, I look up at Colton to find his broken gaze already on me. “I’m going to make this right.”
I nod, trusting him wholeheartedly to stand by his word.
More of the staff begin to crowd around and I don’t miss the way that Enrique the gardener has been messed up with cuts and dark bruises forming on his face or the way one of the maids looks as though she’s been thrown around.
I’ve never lived through such tragedy, not even in Breakers Flats, though that could just mean that I've had it good. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nic’s dad made his new recruits perform home invasions just as an initiation into the gang. Nic has never really opened up about that part of his life, he's always tried to protect me from it but I know that whatever it is, it wouldn't be good.
A silent ten minutes pass before Harrison is finally able to be pulled away. A maid grabs a white sheet and gently lays it over Maryne, giving her the privacy she deserves.
We all walk out of the den and everyone sits around the massive dining table either staring at their hands or finding a way to blame themselves, wishing things could have been different. I find myself looking at Colton, watching as he makes his way around the staff he’s known all of his life, gently soothing their fears and letting them know that they can take some time off if needed.
He's such a generous boss, so completely different from his father. In some cases, Colton is just like him, but then he goes and surprises me in a time like this. He's compassionate, kind, and caring. I don’t think Charles even understood the meaning of words like that. He had times where he would show concern for me, but I quickly came to realize that it was all to fit his own agenda and that my struggles were being used to his advantage. Colton would never do that.
As his hazel gaze sweeps back to mine, silently checking for the millionth time that I’m not about to break, I remember how he was telling me that he provoked Vincent during their phone call the other day. He said things that he knew he shouldn’t and this was their retaliation.
That thought would be sitting heavily in his mind and realizing this only makes me want to run into his chest and hold onto him for as long as I can. It’s not his fault but I don’t doubt that he’ll never forgive himself for the role he played in Maryne’s death. That will forever plague him and the fact that he’s standing tall and putting aside his own grief for those around him just shows what kind of an incredible leader he is.
Colton Carrington really is everything.
I tiptoe across the kitchen and find everything I need to make tea and coffee for everyone before bringing it over to a section of the kitchen which is safe to spread out. I don’t know where the hell the cops are but once they get here, everyone is going to be questioned and for those who were up at the crack of dawn, it’s going to be a very long night.
I get busy and am halfway through when Harrison’s voice rumbles over the silent conversations. “Who did this?” he demands, speaking very out of character as he addresses Colton. “Was it the same bastards who killed your father?”
My gaze snaps up just as everyone else's does. Colton shakes his head. “No,” he says, his eyes briefly flicking to mine before settling back on Harrison’s. “They're not connected. The man who killed my father was a professional. His weapon was delicately chosen and the way he struck my father with his blade was done with accuracy. He was a trained killer—careful and precise.” Colton waves his hands around the destruction of his home. “The men who did this were reckless, randomly shooting, and leaving DNA on everything. These men weren’t concerned with hiding their identity. They just wanted to cause havoc and send a message.”