Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
But the sound that I hear the most, is my brain screaming at me.
The ugly part of my soul begging me.
To get out.
To watch him die. To watch his last breath on this earth.
And then there is the rage, the bitter rage that someone else is out there, getting the moment I’ve waited my whole life for.
Mostly, I hate myself for having that thought. For thinking that it should be me that gets to watch the life sucked from him.
But it isn’t me.
I’m stuck in here, barely able to keep conscious.
And someone else is out there slaying the monster I’ve fought my whole life against.
God dammit.
~*~*~*~
NOW – KODA
An ambush.
Unlike any I could have imagined.
From the spot Slater told me to wait, I watch them roll in. The Mafia, obviously, but there are more than fifty of them, fully loaded with deadly machine guns and weapons that make me think twice about my position, even here. There is no hope for Shanks, none at all. I’ve been watching, and most of his men, at least the closest ones, are all in the massive warehouse where he has taken Charlie.
His operation is about to die, along with him.
But so is Charlie.
Panic seizes my chest, a familiar fear I’ve felt once before.
When Braxton had a gun to his head.
And I could do nothing to stop it.
This feels the fuckin’ same.
There is no way I can go in there, no way in hell.
If I tried to take a step through those gates, I’d be dead.
I have to be smart, but all my instincts are screamin’ at me to go to her, to get her out, to kill every mother fucker that has touched her, to watch her father scream as I murder him.
But I can’t do any of that, and it fuckin’ burns me.
It burns me to my very fuckin’ core, because she’s in there because of me.
Because of my stupidity.
Because I let her down.
Because I didn’t want to admit she mattered to me.
That she was the first person to break through the barrier.
The first person to rip down the walls I’d built up so high.
And fuck. I let her down.
I stare at the blood bath unfolding before my eyes, men dead. It won’t be long before the police throw themselves in the mix. It won’t take long before someone calls it in, someone nearby. This will make the news. This will make every headline in the country. A massacre. A bloody massacre.
But the Mafia are smart, they’ll be gone and cleared out long before anything can be done about it.
They’re already pulling their men together, dragging the dead ones out, loading up the trucks that have just rolled in. They won’t be here for much longer.
And neither will Charlie if I don’t do somethin’.
I consider calling in the club, but we don’t have enough man power to take this down. I have to wait, there is fuck all I can do.
I have to fuckin’ wait.
And pray that Slater keeps his word, and he keeps her safe.
Fuck.
Please let him keep her safe.
-25-
NOW – CHARLIE
I’m terrified.
And broken.
And I don’t think I can stay awake much longer, but I know I have to.
I can’t handle the sounds anymore.
Some of them came so very close, and fear gripped me, terrified somebody would come in and end it once and for all.
The door lock makes a sound, the sound of somebody who knows the code, and I grip the gun in my hands, pointing it out, waiting. If it isn’t Slater, I’ll shoot. I can barely stand, my whole body is collapsing from the inside out, but I can’t fail now. I can’t fall. Because like Rebecca said, even if I’m surrounded by brick walls, I blow myself out.
I do not give up.
My father steps in, bloodied, limping, and slams the door behind him. He can’t lock it from in here, which means he just exposed us both to the dangers outside. He turns, and his bloodied face meets mine, and the gun I’m holding, and for a second, he looks shocked. He must know, in the brief second he has to think about it, that someone gave me this gun.
Someone betrayed him.
“Slater,” he hisses.
My hands tremble, but I don’t lower the gun.
This is my chance, my chance to take him out. The chance I’ve waited so long for. The moment I’ve dreamed of my entire life. So why can’t I pull the trigger? Why are my hands shaking? Why are my knees trembling?
My father bares his teeth in a bloody smile and laughs, low and gargled. He’s injured, quite badly, and there is thick red blood running from his chest. But he’s still alive, he’s still standing, and this might be the only chance I ever have of ridding the world of him. The only chance.
So why aren’t I taking it?