Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Book three in the Devil's Playground series.
Release date to come forward.
*This is a standalone, but all books should be read in order.*
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
The scent of blood lingered in the air, a familiar odor that always made me feel queasy. It seemed to seep into every corner of the room, radiating from the pile of rags that had been dumped in a silver drum on the far side of the room. The metal arrow pulled from Mel’s chest was buried beneath them. Brody—the tall, curly-haired guy who’d driven like a bat out of hell to get her here—had shoved some type of pain pill down her throat seconds before the others had begun playing operation.
He swore they were meant to alleviate her pain. I didn’t know him well enough to take any of his promises at face value.
If being an unwilling contestant in this screwed-up game had taught me anything, it was to trust few and doubt everyone. Either Brody genuinely wished us no harm, or he wanted us dead.
I was choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was the one who ultimately sewed my best friend back together with utmost care. He was also helping the guys, and they wouldn’t have let just anyone in on their plans. We weren’t even in the know. At least not fully. I looked Mel over just long enough to check if her condition had worsened. She was lying on a small loveseat that had been placed near the back wall of the warehouse. Her eyes were closed, her porcelain skin a paler shade than usual.
Brody had covered her up with his hoodie, and Maverick had replaced her bloodied top with his, so the bandaged area wasn’t visible.
She’d done an incredible job of keeping her composure once we arrived here. Other than an occasional hiss through clenched teeth and enough swearing to make a sailor red in the face, there wasn’t a single indication of how badly she was hurting. Not when the arrow was being pulled free, or as her wound was disinfected and sutured.
I hoped with everything I had that she received the healing energy I was sending, ignoring the pessimistic voice inside my head that insisted life didn’t work like that. It was the only thing I could do for her right then. As I huddled deeper into the corner of the sofa, I couldn’t remember a time I had ever felt more useless. The way I was feeling all around was foreign to me. I could barely think straight.
It had been more than twenty-four hours since I was injected with Helios. Now that the effects were fading, I was left with an empty, hollowed-out feeling. The neon-colored drug had temporarily fortified a brutal hold over my senses, amplifying everything ugly and bad just as I had begun to regain my memories.
I’d never been so angry. Worse was the raw, unyielding sense of betrayal. Helios twisted it all into a bloodthirsty rage. I got a reprieve after removing Troye Sainte’s head. That was also the exact moment I knew something was seriously wrong with me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have felt ecstatic about decapitating a man I once considered a friend.
I wasn’t here because I wanted to be. I didn’t find this thrilling or have any desire to make it my new sick hobby. I was here, forced to kill because I had no other choice if I wanted to keep me and my friends alive.
Now I had this mess in my head to deal with as well.
It all started back at the asylum. Being confined in that cramped, sterile room started to shatter a mental barrier that I didn't know existed until I was held down and injected with a drug that splintered it even further.
The inner workings of my mind were now fragmented, like a puzzle with mismatched pieces that couldn't fit together. Some memories remained clear and vivid, while others were frustratingly fuzzy.
Everything I had learned since reuniting with Liliana and Melantha left me feeling even more confused and conflicted. The longer I dwelled on these emotions, the stronger the urge became to unleash them in a loud scream.
But I couldn't do that.
I needed to keep myself together, for my own sake and for Lana, Mel, and even Dion.
So far, none of them showed any signs of remembering anything, or at least If they had they were choosing to keep it to themselves. I understood the reasons behind their silence; I was struggling with those same thoughts. I longed for clarity, but I couldn't risk jeopardizing the fragile bond that held our group together.
It pained me to have secrets from my friends, even if they were necessary in this twisted game we found ourselves in. Our group was our only means of defense against the unknown forces at play. If keeping a million secrets meant we could all survive this ordeal, then I would do it without hesitation. Their safety and well-being were all that mattered to me.