Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
We reach my window in no time and he makes quick work of removing the boards with his bare hands. “What’s the whole ‘little rabbit’ thing you’ve got going on at the moment?” I ask as he indicates for me to go first.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, it sounded right at the moment and I think it’s going to stick. You’ll hereby be deemed little rabbit for all eternity. Besides, we were out in the wilderness, it seemed fitting,” he explains as a dark, twisted sparkle hits his eyes. “Plus I’ve come to learn that cute little pet names always have a certain … intimidation factor when stalking someone through the woods. It reminds your prey that they’re not even a player in the game. You’re just fucking with them and could take them out at a moment’s notice.”
“Juuuuuust perfect,” I mutter under my breath, very ungracefully maneuvering myself through the half-broken window with a few omphs, gahs, and groans, wondering if he sees me that way.
“It really is,” he tells me, basically flying through the window after me like some kind of gazelle. “It’s a special moment that will bond us forever, something the guys will never be able to share with you, just me.”
“You mean that particular time in my life that I’d do anything to forget? The time where I thought you were a crazed serial killer stalking me through the dark, cold woods, like some kind of twisted Snow White and the Huntsman bullshit?”
“To be fair, I am a crazed serial killer who was stalking you through the dark, cold woods,” he beams. “Our own little fairytale.”
“Keep in mind, Mr. Serial Killer, I was right under your nose the whole time and you couldn’t find me,” I remind him. “But for the record, you’re an ass.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a cheesy wink before picking up an empty photo frame, completely ignoring my little reminder. I watch as his eyes sparkle with excitement, speaking right to that wicked part of myself that I was always told to keep hidden, that is until I met the Kings of Ravenwood Heights. “Game time.”
Carver drops the photo frame and the glass shatters into a million pieces. I tiptoe over the smashed glass and drape myself over the bed as dramatically as possible. Carver comes and stands by my bedside, his hand resting peacefully on my shoulder like some bullshit staged photograph from a million centuries ago.
We listen, and we wait.
The noise coming from the lower part of the house comes to an immediate stop and within seconds, loud grunts and curses are heard as the rumble of feet sprinting up the stairs echo through my parents’ home. If I listen close enough, I could probably make out which footstep belongs to who, but instead, I relax and enjoy this rare moment of catching them off guard.
“Three,” Carver whispers as a satisfied smirk settles over my lips. “Two. One.”
The door barges open and the three starring assholes of my latest nightmares come storming in, guns in their hands, pointing proud and true right at my chest. Their eyes bug out of their heads almost in unison, and if I wasn’t so filthy with them, I might even laugh.
A million emotions flicker through their stormy gazes. Love. Regret. Pain. Indecision. Betrayal. Each one of them hits me like a ton of bricks falling from the sky, but so much has to go down before we can come out the other end. A million hard conversations that are bound to kill me faster than that goddamn cabin explosion.
Their guns lower and it takes me all of two seconds to realize that all of them are dressed head-to-toe in black combat clothing. “What’s going on? Why are you dressed like that?” I demand, flying to my feet only to have Carver pull me back down to avoid me stepping on the broken glass.
Grayson recovers first and pushes his way between King and Cruz’s shoulders, taking point on this shit storm. “Excuse me? You break into your own goddamn house and have the nerve to demand answers? What the fuck are you doing here? We had a plan. You were to stay concealed until this shit was over.”
“No,” I demand. “You four assholes had a plan that you refused to let me in on, so I made my own goddamn plan. I don’t play by your rules anymore. This is my home you’re standing in, my leadership, and my fucking life. Nobody saw us, we were careful. I had Carver covering me the whole time, but that’s beside the point. You should never have excluded me from this in the first place. I get that the four of you want to keep me safe, but that doesn't mean that you get to dictate the details of my life. Is that clear?”