Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
"Well, that's not entirely true is it?" I said, thinking Finn was likely my best bet here at pissing off Blake. Because I suddenly knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had been Blake on my porch that one night, knocking over my table after catching me dry humping Finn on the couch.
"Don't," Blake snapped, mouth getting tight.
"Don't what? Tell the truth? That some men have been worthy? In fact, one man has been worthy very recently. But you knew that, didn't you? Spying through my window like a creep. You missed the best part of the show, though. After he chased you off, we had an act two that got a hell of a lot steamier."
"Shut up."
"Fine, not into the dirty—filthy, really—details. How about the fact that I brought him in on my secret project? I trusted something that important to him only. Oh! And he was the one to tell me to cover the missing girls, actually. Funny, someone you loathe—"
I didn't get the rest out.
Before I could finish my sentence, he was across the room, reaching down to grab the neck of my shirt, yanking me up off the ground by it, dragging me closer.
Just close enough that I could reach him.
My mind flashed to the story Finn had told me.
About being a young soldier taking a knife to the gut, then taking that knife, and shoving it into the eye of his attacker.
I liked to think of myself as a badass, self-reliant woman who could do whatever was necessary to save herself. But my stomach was sloshing ominously as my fingers curled around my shank and drew it out of my pocket.
Blake was screaming at me.
But my system was too drenched in adrenaline to notice anything but my heartbeat hammering in my ears as I brought my arm up toward my breast, pushed the shank out from between my fingers, then took a steadying breath before stabbing outward.
If I lived a thousand years, I would never forget the sick feeling that coursed through me as the shank stabbed into Blake's eye. Nor would I ever be able to un-hear the shrieking, animalistic sound he made as he suddenly dropped me down to reach for his face.
My body landed with a hard thud.
I could have gotten away right then.
But with the adrenaline still surging, I pulled my knees into my chest, then kicked outward, making him stumble and fall backward.
Only then did I scramble up and out of the room, slamming and locking it behind me.
The basement was a blur.
If asked about it later, I wouldn't be able to describe a single thing save for the staircase that lead upward and toward freedom.
A paranoid part of me was terrified I might encounter another foe as I pushed open the basement stairs. But the floor above was silent and still. There was no one else to be seen.
Rushing through the living room, I made a beeline for the front door, fumbling with the locks before charging outside.
A sob escaped me as I started to run across the front lawn.
I was aware of the truck in my peripheral, but was in too much of a survival mode to recognize it as he slammed to a stop, as the door flew open, as a body came running out of it.
It wasn't until he was right in front of me that I realized who it was.
It should have been fear that flooded my system.
But all I could feel was relief. A relief so strong it took me to my knees in the middle of the front lawn as Finn rushed toward me, reaching downward, grabbing my chin, angling it up.
"You're okay. You're alright," he said, trying for calm and reassuring, but there was something rough in his voice. "Where is he?" he asked, gaze hard.
"Basement," I croaked out.
"You're okay," he told me again, giving my chin a small squeeze before sidestepping me, then running inside.
My mind refused to focus on any one thought for longer than a few seconds.
The highlights were:
I just stabbed a man in the eye.
My head hurts.
My side hurts.
My fingertips hurt.
I'm free.
It's going to be okay.
Finn was going to kill Blake.
Maybe Finn wasn't so bad.
No, I can't be in love with a probable serial killer.
It wasn't long, though, before another car came screeching to a stop. And then another.
Men ran up.
One I knew, Detective Lloyd.
Two others I didn't.
All three stopped to ask me if I was okay before rushing inside.
Inside where Finn was.
Where Finn was likely murdering a man because of me.
And a cop was on his way in.
I didn't know where the strength came from, but I jumped up and flew through that house, rushing so fast down the stairs that I nearly tumbled down them.
It was there that I saw Finn getting shoved backward by one of the men from outside.