Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
I could never prove it, but I don’t doubt it was Adam who ordered the infectious sample from the CDC. Adam who put it on my goggles. Adam who tried to murder me in one of the most horrific ways possible.
And now I’m here for the exact same reason. Adam fucking Archer, taking another swing at me.
As my fury builds, my vision begins to blur. There’s a high, slim horizontal window at the top of the wall, and the light begins to shimmer and twist. I blink hard, but the light still dances. I glance around and for the first time notice that the walls aren’t that steady either. Everything is swaying slightly.
Fuck, what drugs are they shoving into me without my consent?
Which is when I look down my body and notice the IV stuck in my arm. Shit, they’re still actively pumping poison into me.
Get it out. Get it the hell out!
As I watch, the line of the IV starts to undulate like a snake, burrowing into my skin. I twist and scratch, but I’m bound too tightly. I can’t get to it to yank it out.
“Help!” I scream as the poison spreads. “Get it out!”
But no one comes. No one ever comes to help.
And then there are a thousand snakes, all skittering through my veins, poison, poison. They’ll burn me. They’ll chew on me and burn me, eating me alive from the inside out.
I scream and scream, until my voice is hoarse, until I have no more voice, but no one ever comes to save me.
Nineteen
Daphne
Rachel shoves down the hoodie of her sweatshirt and holds up her hands. “It’s me.”
Like that’s supposed to make me feel better about the situation.
Her normally perfectly styled blonde hair is loose around her face, with dark roots showing. She’s in yoga pants and a baggy, shapeless sweater. There are dark craters under her eyes. She looks fragile, but all the more beautiful for it.
Of course she’s the one woman who looks amazing even when she’s a wreck. I brush crumbs off my lap from the teacakes with Armand, and tug up the sleeve of my boat neck sweater, which has fallen off my shoulder. I look like seven types of shit.
“Daphne, I am so, so, so sorry.” She’s stopped a few feet away from me, wringing her hands.
I scoff. Does she really expect me to believe that? Especially after she just broke into my house, on top of everything else?
“Adam blackmailed me,” she blurts. “I didn’t want to help him with any of it.”
“What?”
“He’s had dirt on me a long time. I know you’re mad, and you have a right to be. But I can explain.” Her eyes drop to the floor in shame. “A few years ago, remember when my dad needed surgery?”
In spite of myself, my heart tugs. “Rachel, I told you I could help you out, no strings attached.”
When she looks up, a tear is streaking down her cheek. “I was too proud. I thought I could fix it on my own.”
“How?”
She swipes angrily at her tears and swallows hard.
“Belladonna has an annual slush fund for company parties. It’s stupid and nonessential and no one ever usually checks the balance but me since I’m the chair of the committee. I just needed $2000 to pay off the hospital so they wouldn’t foreclose on Dad’s house. I knew I could pay it back as soon as I got my tax refund. And I did. In full. The money was only missing a few weeks. It seemed harmless.”
My thoughts are on a merry-go-round. I was barely able to sleep last night after they took Logan away, but that reminds me—
“You drugged me.” The betrayal still cuts deep.
“Not me. Adam.” Her voice is desperate. “Look, I know you won’t believe me. I can only imagine what he’s told you—”
“That you instigated the whole thing so you could sell my pictures to the Inquirer.”
“What?” she rage screeches. I flinch. “Sorry,” she drops her voice, still fuming. “I can’t believe he accused me. That lying...cheating…”
“Douche canoe?”
“The douchiest!” She throws her hands up in the air. I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s amazing seeing Rachel like this. Her hair’s mussed and her cheeks are red with rage. It’s a good look for her.
I want to throw my arms around her. I miss my best friend so badly. But my naïveté has cost me too much, too many times.
So I hold myself back and gesture at the kitchen table. I sit at the opposite side and fold my hands together. “So what happened then?”
She nods, swallowing hard again, and returns to her story. “It should have been harmless. But somebody did notice the money was missing.”
“Adam,” I say.
Furtively, she looks my way and nods.
“Adam,” she agrees. “I didn’t even know Archer Industries had access to our books until he showed up in my office one day looking for answers. We weren’t officially affiliated with them back then.”