Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Adriel had been told more than once not to make waves. Some families even shunned her simply because she cut her hair, and they did not want their daughters to be influenced by her misguided actions.
She clutched her chest, thinking of all the decisions made for her and how unprepared she was to face a future in the real world. Domesticated as a bird clipped at the wings, her abilities had been bound by bonnets and Anabaptist faith.
The noose tightened around her neck as she struggled to breathe. She was immortal but so far from feral that death seemed inevitable.
How was she going to survive this place? Every sight and sound was foreign. The speed at which people carried on frightened her. She couldn’t even catch her breath. It was all moving too fast. She was a helpless bird falling from the nest, plummeting to the earth with no plan or idea of how to survive out there on her own.
“Hey.” The music lowered. “Are you okay?”
She couldn’t do this. It was too much, and only a matter of time before Cerberus found her. She had centuries to sharpen her skills and hone her abilities, but she’d done nothing to prepare for this moment that she always knew would come.
“Adriel, look at me.”
The command of Juniper’s voice broke through her panic, and she glanced at her, tears of fear brimming in her eyes. How had they not broken her?
“Do you feel something? Is it him? Should I change directions?”
“No. No. Keep going.”
“What is it? You’re white as a ghost.”
Gasping through shallow breaths, she swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I just…got scared.”
Juniper’s eyes flared. “Why? What happened?”
“I…realized how little I know and… I’m so ignorant. I have no idea how to do this.”
“Ignorance isn’t terminal. You can learn what you don’t know. I’ll help you.” Juniper held out a hand.
Adriel hesitated but slowly took the offering. When the witch’s fist tightened around her fingers, lending much-needed courage, she instantly calmed her.
“Thank you.”
Juniper nodded, then returned her gaze to the road. “We’ve got this. As long as we stick together, we can do anything.”
Adriel had grown so used to living alone and depending only on herself, she didn’t know if she possessed such trust. The girl had lived a mere fraction of a lifetime, but there was something worldly and brave about her. Something trustworthy and good.
Protectiveness raced through her, and her hand tightened. She could not let Cerberus hurt her.
“We cannot underestimate his cruelty.”
Juniper frowned. “We won’t. Once we find a place to rest, we’ll work on a plan.”
Adriel already had a plan. Should Cerberus find her, she would make certain he could not hurt her, ending her life before he had the chance to punish her, thereby not giving him the opportunity to harm her friend.
She wasn’t exactly sure what had shifted, but she could no longer look at Juniper as merely a liability. Without her, she never would have made it this far. In a way, she was starting to trust her. Yes, she was abrasive and somewhat more aggressive than Adriel was used to, but maybe that was a good thing.
Juniper might be the last person to see her alive. If her days were numbered, perhaps she could teach her how to live.
Adriel’s eyes tingled with the sharp sting of unanticipated tears. She’d wasted so much time hiding and being afraid. She didn’t know how to be brave. But she wanted to try. She wanted to be more than the elders believed any female could be.
Not Cerberus’s aimless mate or the troublesome female of The Order who rejected conformity, but rather a person with a purpose. Her life and story could not merely be a footnote to his. She wanted—desperately—to be remembered for something more.
She might not have much time left, but she was finally free to live her life as she chose. The last time she’d been free, she lived at home with her family, long before her calling and before she knew what suffering truly was. She’d forced her mind to forget that carefree life long ago—forget the parents who raised her and the brothers and sisters she’d lost when Cerberus went back to slaughter them.
As she tried to recall the shape of her mother’s face or the shade of her father’s hair, only blurred images filled her mind. Her heart could not bear to think of her parents and all the siblings she’d lost. Did her mother and father blame her? They should.
If not for her, Cerberus would have never hurt them. He would have never gone back and done those horrific things to punish her. But that was how he’d always been. Cruel. Calculating. Controlling through the most vile means necessary.
His viciousness cast a shadow over her entire life. She had been younger than Juniper when she was called, but that did nothing to gentle him. He stole her away, never allowing her the chance even to say goodbye. And that night, he rutted into her in the mud and rain. That primal wound was the first, but far from the last time he made her bleed.