Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“Be careful.” He steadied me.
“Why would you do that?” My voice teetered between disbelief and fury.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When you got pregnant,” he said simply, as though it were the most logical answer in the world.
My knees threatened to give out beneath me. I couldn’t do this. Not now. My mind spun in circles, trying to piece together how the man I had loved could be capable of any of this. I wanted to be shocked, appalled, and disgusted but sadly I wasn’t.
Some dark corner of my mind whispered that I had known, all along, what he was capable of. I just hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d painted over the jagged edges of his personality with rose-colored strokes, convincing myself that his intensity was love and his possessiveness was devotion. Now I was caught in the web I had ignored for so long.
I didn’t know where carrying his baby ranked on the ever-growing list of horrors, but it couldn’t be my focus right then. I tried to prepare myself for what I might walk into, but nothing could have readied me for the sight of waiting at the top of the steps. The first thing I saw was Gabe. His head was entirely wrong, twisted at an angle no head should ever be.
I would have fallen over myself if Wilder wasn’t holding onto me. The house was cloaked in near-total darkness, save for the dining room, where a single light illuminated the space like a spotlight.
A classic song played faintly, the melody twisted and haunting. At the entrance to the dining room, my breath hitched again, this time from the sheer devastation in front of me. Everyone was tied up, their faces and bodies battered and broken.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as my gaze darted frantically over each of them. Ryan and Cherish were gagged, their arms bound behind their chairs. Ryan’s jaw was swollen, and a deep cut marred one side of his face.
Cherish’s eyes were wide with fury and terror as she struggled against her restraints upon seeing me. Liza looked dazed, barely upright, her head lolling as if she’d been drugged. Jason was slumped over completely unconscious, a dark bruise spreading across his bloodied temple.
Daniella was in nothing but a bra and underwear, her face pale, and streaked with tears.
One of the masked men held her close, a gloved hand gripping her arm hard enough to bruise.
And Naija…
Naija’s face was a swollen mess, one side red and grotesque from a vicious beating. Half her locs looked like they’d been ripped from her scalp, blood streaking what was left. She sat with her head down, her shoulders shaking.
The tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back, gritting my teeth as I forced myself not to break. Six masked gazes swung my way as we entered the room, their presence suffocating. I knew who each of them was except for one. The masked girl in the corner didn’t move like the others. Her stance was more casual, almost playful, but it was her hair that drew my attention. Long, dark, and unmistakable. The girl from the gas station.
“Autumn,” Lucian’s voice broke through the tense air, smooth and sincere.
His mask tilted slightly as if he were studying me. “It’s good of you to join us. We’ve all been looking forward to this.”
I refused to speak. Wilder guided me toward an empty chair, his hands steady as he maneuvered me into it. I tried to resist, pulling against him weakly, but he only leaned down, his breath ghosting over my ear.
“Don’t make me force you.”
The chair creaked as he pressed me into it, pulling my arms behind my back.
“Kristy,” Lucian said gently.
The girl practically skipped over. Her gloved hands were quick and efficient as she wound what felt like coarse twine tightly around my wrists. I flinched at the rough texture biting into my skin, but I didn’t dare make a sound.
“Good girl,” Wilder murmured close to my ear.
The tears I’d been holding back spilled over, burning hot trails down my cheeks.
This couldn’t be real.
It couldn’t be happening, but every brutal, unrelenting detail told me otherwise. I didn’t want to cry in front of them. The last thing I wanted to do was give these psychopaths the satisfaction of seeing me break, but it was like everything was catching up to me all at once—the fear, the rage, the utter helplessness.
“Hey, hey,” Atlas’s voice broke through the suffocating tension. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of, Tums.”
Tums. The nickname Wilder’s friends had always called me. Hearing it now, in this setting, from a man wearing a mask and gloves, felt like a slap in the face. My eyes shifted toward him, and it was only then I realized he was holding Amber’s head.
One of his gloved thumbs was casually pressed into the empty socket where her eye used to be. Thorne chimed in, his voice smooth and just as sickeningly reassuring.