Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Suddenly, I hear quiet footsteps, and he walks past. Eyes forward, walking with purpose, he doesn’t so much as glance at the tree where I’m hiding. He keeps going, his strides long and even as he recedes down the row of trees.
When he’s finally almost out of sight through the trees, I breathe deeply and press a hand over my thumping heart. He didn’t find me. Maybe the redhead distracted him, gave me an opening to escape. I could kiss that guy.
I’m about to edge around the tree and continue away from the castle when Valen stops. He’s so far away, his back still to me—but he’s standing utterly still.
I stare at him, willing him to keep walking.
Then he turns his head to the side.
His voice carries back to me. “Are you coming, little rabbit?”
Icy fear grips me like a skeletal hand, and for the briefest second, I can’t move. All the hope I’d had roots me to the ground, as forlorn and earthbound as the dying trees all around me. And then I’m running from him, hurtling through the trees as fast as I can go. Stumbling forward, I scrape my palm against a tree trunk, then vault forward, my shins aching as if they’re splintering as I pound ahead. It’s not logical, nothing but instinct. Instinct chose flight, and I’m soaring across the ground, the tree line no closer, salvation outside my reach, damnation likely already on my heels.
I dodge a downed tree limb and shoot out of the grove, the ground rising as my muscles burn, my lungs underperforming right along with the rest of my body. I have to make it out of here. I have to.
I almost trip, then right myself and keep pushing up the hill. My pace slows as a shape emerges ahead of me. The sun is at my back, bathing him in golden light. His hair, black as a raven’s wing, his eyes the same blue of the icebergs that sink old-timey ships. He strolls toward me, a smirk on his face, his hands in his pockets. Casual. Utterly, effortlessly evil.
Breathing hard, I stop, my chest heaving, my eyes wide as he approaches. I’ve long since let go of the thought “this isn’t possible” when it comes to the world around me. But seeing him like this, laughing at me while doing circles around me—it breaks off a part of me. The part that dared to hope.
“You simply must wear more appropriate clothes when you go on little outings like this,” he chides, his eyes taunting as he stops right in front of me. “You could catch a cold.”
“I heard what you said,” I gasp out. “You’re working with Gregor’s enemies.”
“Oh?” he asks, feigning interest. “Is that so?”
“Yes. And W-Whitbine will see,” I finish, lungs burning, face hot. Easing my hand to my side, I slip it into my bag.
He leans down, his eyes almost level with mine. “Looking forward to your next meeting with Whitbine, are you?”
I wince.
“Didn’t think so.” He straightens again. “Come along, little rabbit.” He glances around. “Too many hawks out here. You could get plucked away.”
“What did you do in Atlanta?” I put my hands on my hips as I struggle to catch my breath and glare up at him. “What did you do?”
“I thought you already heard everything?” he mocks.
“Tell me!” I yell.
He steps to me, looming over me like a beast in a nightmare. “I killed and killed and killed. More humans than I can count. My forces wiped out entire communities, drenched the ground with blood. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Why?” The bridge of my nose burns with tears. “Do you hate us that much?”
“It isn’t hate that drives the wolf to hunt down the rabbit. It’s in his nature to destroy. If anything, it’s indifference. Indifferent to the lives of other beings if it means his own survival.”
“You don’t have to massacre people to survive!”
His scowl returns, the coldness in his eyes like a slap to the face. “Agree to disagree, little rabbit. Now, come along.”
“I won’t go back.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t.” My chin trembles, and I hate myself for it.
“Must I drag you?” He tsks. “Or shall I wait for this tantrum to end?”
“You could let me go.”
He gives me a withering look.
“Why are you doing this?” I yell. “You don’t have to follow orders. You don’t have to kill us. Or me, for that matter. We could—”
“This is getting tiresome.” He sighs.
“One thing we can agree on.” I lunge forward, burying my knife in his side. Then I’m running again, tearing away from him and up the hill.
I’m almost to the crest when I feel his hands on my shoulders, dragging me to a stop that’s so quick it knocks the wind out of me.