Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
“Come on, Braelynn.” My lawyer’s tone is gentle, but he pulls on my arm. He must want to be out of here as much as I do, but I slowed down. “I’ll take you back to the house.”
Fear paralyzes me. “Are they going to let you do that?”
He barks out a laugh. “Until they’ve filed charges, I’ll do whatever I want. You need to get back to the house.”
“Is Declan there?”
“Not yet,” the lawyer informs me with a pat. “He will be soon though. Let’s get you back.”
Back to the Cross brothers and Declan isn’t even there to protect me. Although at this point, I don’t know if he would. I don't know what’s real and what’s a lie. All I know is that I need someone to help me because I am not okay.
DECLAN
A full day I sat in a cell and all I can think about is her. I’m sick to my fucking stomach and on edge.
The holding cell is just an empty fucking interrogation room. The cold cracked cement floor is coated in dull gray paint. The steel bench is bolted down and the cylinder walls have texture but are coated in the same thick paint as the floor. It’s empty and cold as ice…how fucking fitting.
There’s nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the fucking clock that only seems to get louder.
The only conversation I had was with my lawyer who told me what I already know… They have forty-eight hours and no doubt they’re doing everything they can to pin anything on me or get any warrants expedited.
Whoever signed off on this is fucked. I’ll ruin them. I’m going to destroy not only them but everything and everyone they’ve ever loved.
My head falls back against the brick wall. I don’t know if it’s cold in here or if my body has just given up. I’m at war with myself. Fighting to not respond or react every time I relive what she told me and what she did. I’ve had twenty-four hours of remembering every moment. I could have saved her and walked away—to do the right thing by her.
I hate myself. That’s truly what it comes down to. I fucking hate myself for what I’ve done to her, and all I want is to make sure she’s okay and fix this.
My throat dries and my reddened, tired eyes go heavy.
They won’t even tell me if she’s all right. That’s what I can’t get past. I swallow thickly as I shove every emotion down and it’s then that officers open the door.
I don’t move or react other than to say, “I want my lawyer.”
The metal chair groans against the cement floor as one of them kicks it toward me. It almost nudges against the bottom of my oxfords.
With the crack of my neck and the stiffening ache in my shoulders, I turn to look at him. Fucking bastard cops.
The short one is Angino and the taller one is McKinley. I recognize their names but not well enough. A file must’ve been slipped into someone else’s hand. My jaw ticks as the two of them take a seat at the metal table.
The second I’m out of here, they’re as good as dead and every pocket of the men on my side will be filled.
“Scarlet Miller.”
McKinley talks as I slowly roll my shoulders, intending on sitting at the table if for no other reason than to look these men in their eyes.
As I stand, he babbles on, something about her family, her childhood. As if it matters at this point. As if a man like me could feel remorse for her. She set this into motion, didn’t she?
It’s all I can think as I pull out the chair and take a seat. I still can’t figure out all the pieces, but I know she knew my poor naive girl was in too deep.
His voice gets louder, sterner, as his fist slams down on the table. “Got your attention now?” he questions. Angino’s expression slips into a smug grin.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” I respond, and even though it’s a prick response, it’s also true. So I guess I’m an honest asshole.
“You knew she was undercover. You had her killed.”
I hold his gaze for a good five seconds before reminding him of my lawyer’s name.
“Why not Braelynn? She’s a rat too.” Angino says and I stiffen. I didn’t know I could feel anger like this. With my brothers it’s different. It’s a fear, a sadness even. When the cops come for Braelynn though, all I feel is rage.
I swallow so fucking loud I know both of them can hear it. I’ve been in this room maybe twice. This specific room with my ass in this same uncomfortable chair.
I’ve been in other interrogation rooms maybe a dozen times, I’ve lost track. It was more often when we were younger.