Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
To try to get me to move faster, Wick took my backpack, but even relieved of its weight, I was struggling to keep up.
I heard the water before we broke through a clearing to reveal a cliff with a river running below it.
Shit.
Wick grabbed my hand harder, pulling me down the side of the cliff, clearly seeing something that I didn’t. Not that I was seeing much, mind you, with sweat pouring into my eyes.
It wasn’t until we were right up on it that I realized what he was pulling me toward.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said, seeing the rickety old rope bridge hanging loosely across the cavern.
“We have to get across. And maybe cut it,” Wick said, too matter-of-fact and practical to care about my fears.
“Wick, it’s ancient,” I objected between gasping breaths.
“It’s the only way to get ahead of them. I’ll go first. So you know it’s safe,” he said.
Before I could even take a breath, he was taking off across the sporadic wooden planks.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered when I watched the whole goddamn bridge start to swing as he ran.
My stomach rolled.
But there was no going back now.
Not even if my whole body felt like it was shaking as I moved to the edge of the cliff to press a foot onto the ridge.
“Violet!” Wick yelled, making my head shoot up to see him standing on the other side, safely on solid ground.
It took a split second to realize it was the first time he’d said my name.
And that he’d said it in a full-on panic.
I didn’t bother to turn around.
I knew what he was saying.
They were right behind me.
Grabbing the rope sides, I rushed out onto the bridge.
Fine.
‘Rushed’ was probably pushing it.
But I wasn’t frozen, shaking, and crying, so that was a win in my book.
I felt it the second one of the men stepped onto the bridge.
The whole thing swayed hard enough to make me worry it might just flip.
My hands burned from gripping the rope as I kept moving across, trying to make sure each foot fell on a plank, not the open spaces between.
The man kept coming, the bridge objecting to the weight.
I heard a crack and felt my foot falling.
My stomach sloshed and my heart took up vacation in my throat as my hands gripped the rope harder, pulling myself back up to my feet.
My pulse was a thunderous beat in my ears, drowning out the rush of the river beneath me, the encouragement of Wick, the shouts of our pursuers, even the pop-pop-pop of sporadic gunfire as the assassins took aim at Wick from the other side of the cliff.
But I did hear one thing, probably the quietest sound of all.
The snap of the rope somewhere behind me.
“Vi!” Wick screamed as the bridge gave way from the other side of the cavern, making it drop and swing.
I didn’t even think a cry escaped me as all my focus went to gripping my arms and legs around the remaining bridge.
I wrapped my arms around the ropes, the burn instantaneous and unavoidable as I shoved my legs through the gaps in planks, then tightened them around them.
We seemed to swing forever, my stomach dropping over and over as the adrenaline surged through me.
But I guess I was thankful for the swing. Because I knew what was on the other side of it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
The rope twisted around on itself twice, and I tucked my head to my chest and gripped the broken bridge harder just in time for impact.
The side of the jagged cliff caught me in the back, knocking all the wind out of me as pain shot up my spine and across my shoulders.
Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to force myself to focus, to breathe, to not panic and lose my hold.
The worst part was over.
As long as I didn’t, you know, fall to my death.
Somewhere above me, there were the rapid-fire shots of bullets, and my heart ached thinking of Wick up there.
But it wasn’t long before my own survival became a question mark again.
When I felt a hand close around my ankle.
My gaze shot down, and for a dizzying second, all I saw was the drop still below us, the river rushing along with God-knew what creatures inside it, waiting to rip me limb from limb.
At first, I thought the guy—tall and fit in a wiry way with black eyes and a shaved head—was just trying to find something to hold onto.
He was bigger, heavier. It was harder to keep his grip.
But then I felt him pulling, fingers bruising, trying to, what, pull me down? Drop me off?
“Fuck off,” I snarled, trying to yank my leg away.
“Get out of my way,” he shot back, glancing up.
My own gaze lifted, seeing the climb ahead of me, the promise of safety at the top.