Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Tigran’s behind me. He takes down another of the masked men, splattering his brains across the two employees. They’re both standing in total shock, the dumb fucks. They should be down on the goddamn floor.
That leaves one more attacker. I don’t see him right away. I gesture for Tigran to move left while I cross the front of the store in a slow crouch.
Gunshots blare. I barely drop in time as bullets rip past me and kill one of the workers. He goes down in a spray of blood as ugly holes are torn into his face and neck.
I return fire. I don’t even need to see where I’m shooting. My bullets rip into snacks and chip bags, sending food and debris flying. There’s a satisfying scream of pain followed by an ugly wet gurgle.
The last attacker is down. He’s got three holes in his chest oozing bubbling blood. I kneel on his chest and rip off his mask.
I recognize the fucker. One of Aunt Sona’s guys. “How’d you know we were here?” I snarl in his face.
His chest makes a terrible rattling sound as he drowns on his own blood. “Fuck you, Arsen.”
I shoot him in the face. It’s a fucking mercy.
The store is a mess. One employee’s dead and the other’s on the ground begging for his life. The woman that got shot is dragging herself to the door and moaning in pain.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I tell her as I walk past.
Tigran catches up with me. “That was an ambush,” he says grimly as we hurry to the car. The sound of sirens blares in the distance.
“They were either following us or they were following Vahagn.”
“Did he give you a location?”
“He did, but I’m not sure how much I can trust it now.”
“Do we have much of a choice?”
I shake my head. He’s got a point. If we’re going to end this war quickly, I have to take some risks.
I can’t be afraid to get my hands a little dirty in the process.
Chapter 25
Lena
Honestly, I tried really hard.
I spent three hours in that library. Three intense, paper-cut riddled hours. I pulled down volumes that clearly hadn’t been touched in generations and lovingly wiped them down before entering them into my catalogue. I got an entire shelving unit finished and organized before I found myself here.
Standing in front of the forbidden door.
I don’t even know how it happened. One second, I was elbow-deep in leather dust, and the next I’m exactly where I swore I wouldn’t be. With my lock pick tools in hand.
It’s just not fair. Honestly, it’s really not. Dangling this door in front of me is like shoving a bloody fish carcass in a shark’s mouth and telling it not to feed.
This is my nature.
I can’t help myself. I’m a deeply curious person. If it weren’t for my mom’s sickness, I never would’ve been able to stop urban exploring, despite my little run-in with the police.
Now that I know she’s safe and being taken care of, it’s like the part of me that’s been smothered and silenced is finally waking up again.
“Don’t do it, Lena,” I mutter as my hands move on their own. I take out the picks and shove them into the lock. “You’re better than this, Lena. Remember how much fun you had with him yesterday?”
I jiggle the picks and force the tumblers into position.
“Damn it,” I groan as the door makes a click and opens. “It’s not too late. Close it, lock it, and walk away.”
I put the picks into my pocket and step forward.
The carpet on the other side of the door is different. It’s older, more like something from the ‘70s. There’s wallpaper in an odd outdated style. Everything smells musty and unused, like this part of the house hasn’t been touched in years.
It’s fucking creepy.
A hallway stretches ahead of me. Doors jut away from it. The hall ends in a junction and I can’t see beyond that.
“Great, this is it, just a normal hall. No need to explore.”
My feet move forward all on their own.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I moan, trailing my fingers along the wall.
Most of the doors lead to empty guest rooms. The windows are covered with paper and they’re filthy from not being touched for a while, but they’re basically unremarkable. I feel like someone’s watching me though as I explore a part of this house that clearly hasn’t been touched in a very long time.
At the dead end, I come to an abrupt stop. To the left is a bathroom. It’s covered in pink tiles with a huge, chunky vanity.
To the right is more hall ending in a door on the right and a door straight ahead.
The floor here is stained. Something dark was splattered across the wall. I step forward and my stomach twists. It smells bad here—like an old, ancient rot.