Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I try to fight, but it’s no use.
It’s more than one man, I know that. Their hands are strong and their bodies like bricks.
I don’t stop and won’t, but nothing I do is helping. I punch and yell and kick as terror flows through me, begging me to push them away and run. I can’t see, and my arms scream in pain as they’re pinned behind me.
I only know we’re outside because of the wind slicing through my thin jacket. I only know I’m in a trunk because of the telltale sound of it opening before I’m tossed in, my small body crashing against the back of it as it’s quickly shut.
Silence.
Darkness.
My breathing is ragged, and it makes me lightheaded.
When my screaming stops, my voice is hoarse, and my throat burns with harsh pain every time I try to swallow. When my banging ends, my wrists are rubbed raw and cut from the cuffs and my muscles are aching with the type of pain that’s scorching hot and forces me to tremble.
Another feeling takes over. It’s not quite panic. It’s something else.
It’s not a sense of hopelessness. Not that either.
When you’re alone and you know nothing is okay and nothing’s going to be okay, there’s this feeling that’s overwhelming and inescapable.
My heart keeps ticking along despite everything. But it’s going too fast. Everything is going too fast and it hurts. And I can’t stop it. I can’t stop any of it.
When you’ve done everything you can, and you’re left with nothing but fear of both the unknown and the known, there’s only one way to describe it.
That feeling is true terror.
Chapter 3
Carter
* * *
“You’re going to keep her here?” It’s not much of a question from my brother; more of a statement as he looks around the cell. Jase was the middle child of five boys and never learned how to start a conversation without being direct and blunt. I suppose I can’t blame him. The thought reminds me of Tyler. The fifth brother who died years ago. His memory numbs the reality of the present, but only for a moment.
Jase leans against the far wall with his arms loosely crossed and waits for me to answer.
We leave in only an hour. Each small tick of the Rolex on my wrist reminds me that I’m so close to having her. Only time separates us now.
Glancing from the thin mattress lying on the floor to the metal toilet on the other side of the cell, I tell him, “I think I’ll add a chair.”
His quizzical expression only changes slightly. He may not even realize it, but I see it on his face. The disappointment. The disgust. I can hear the unspoken question that lingers on the tip of his tongue as he shifts his gaze from me to the steel door behind us. When did you become this fucked up? He has no idea.
“I’ll need a place to sit.” I keep my voice even, almost playful as if this is a joke. It’s Jase though, and he knows me better than anyone. Much better than either Daniel or Declan. The three of them and I make the four Cross brothers. But out of all of us, Jase and I are the closest.
As much as I can hide the anxiousness of getting my hands on Aria from everyone else, he can see it. I can tell by how careful he’s been around me since I told him.
“How long?” he asks me.
“How long what?”
“Will you keep her here?”
“As long as it takes.” For what? The question is there in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask it and I have no intention of telling him regardless. I could lie and tell him as long as it takes for the war to end. As long as it takes to see if she’ll be useful in negotiations if Talvery wins. The lies could pour from me, but the truth is simple. As long as it takes for me to decide what I want from her.
“There’s no shower,” he remarks.
“There’s a faucet by the side of the toilet and a drain. She’ll figure it out while she’s in here.”
Time passes and a chill settles in the already cold air. I know this is something I’ve never done, and it crosses more than one line. But in times of war, there is no right and wrong.
“I could give her other things. Little by little.” Although I’m answering his question, I’m merely thinking out loud.
“Last time I was here, I was getting some very useful intel,” Jase comments as he moves to the corner of the room. I know he’s looking at the rim of the drain, inspecting it for any remnants of the blood.
The cell has only been used for one thing prior to this. It’s what Jase excels at.