Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I've been gone for eight years. Unless Damien somehow has access to the emails Aspen has been sending, he'll never guess that I am back in town, attempting to take off with his wife.
If they do speak to him about what happened today, they'd chalk it up to someone else trying to encroach on his territory by going after his wife. I don't know if it will compromise my ability to see her again, but going to their home isn't an option. I know how well-guarded that fucking place is. Ivan Reese was a paranoid fuck who rarely left his house because he knew how dangerous the world he created was to him.
She may have very well ruined the only chance I have to get her out of this seriously fucked-up life she claims to be trapped in. But maybe her cry for help in the emails is just her way of getting shit off her chest.
I know from experience that when push comes to shove, she chooses to stay. I can't help but imagine that she'd turn her back on me every time rather than walk away.
She could very easily be so deep in this life that she doesn't want to leave. Or maybe it's real fear keeping her there. She doesn't know where Eli is, but with another payment to Ricco, he dug deeper and found the address of the school. I could put a plan together to get both of them out at nearly the same time if she would've just given me a second to fucking explain.
In my head, I try to play devil's advocate.
She hasn't heard my voice in nearly eight fucking years, and we only had a few short months together. Maybe she didn't recognize it.
She recently wrote about Damien hitting her, and she's afraid that even turning back to look at someone else would land her in more trouble.
She could possibly think that I was someone who was there to hurt her, and that goes both ways if she didn't or if she did recognize my voice. She has to know what a massive betrayal her silence was that day.
I wish this was something I could do on my own, but I know it's going to take more than just me to get to the bottom of this. If she doesn't want my help, I won't force it on her, but I at least need to look her in the eyes and let her know that she has options. She doesn't have to stay in a home where she doesn't get to see her son and where she runs the risk of getting hurt by the one man who is supposed to care the most about her.
I know better than to think that Damien sees her as more than another possession he can use and abuse at his every whim, but despite what she did to me, I don't want to know that she's out there getting hurt and worrying about her kid.
I pace the small motel room, trying to think of any way to take care of this shit myself, but I can't. My resources are all linked to either Cerberus or ICE, and I walked away from ICE without so much as a fuck you several months ago. I have no good graces left with anyone there, I imagine, and I wouldn't be able to choke down my pride enough to try and find out.
I pull out the new burner phone I got when I arrived in town yesterday and dial Hemlock's number.
"Good to hear from you," he says when he answers.
"How do you know it's me?" I mutter.
"Everyone else is home right now. I can honestly say, I don't know about Nyx. I'm a surly fucking bastard, but he looks like he's one stubbed toe away from taking out an entire convention center of people."
A chuckle escapes my throat. Hemlock and I were the first ones in the new cabin in East Tennessee, and I think us existing together alone for a few weeks kind of bred a deeper camaraderie than what he's been able to form with the others so far.
"Take him to the basement and set him straight," I mutter, knowing Hemlock has a certain set of skills that have come into play a lot more recently than I ever imagined they'd need to.
"Kincaid counseled against it," he says, sounding a little sad that systematic torture of a teammate was advised against.
"What was Kincaid's suggestion? Let me guess, some sort of team-building exercise? Maybe a campfire, s'mores, and a good old round of Let's Be Friends?"
His deep exhale tells me that my joke might've gotten a little too close to the truth.
"Maybe remind him that our chapter of Cerberus isn't like his chapter of Cerberus."
"They're both his chapters of Cerberus," Hemlock reminds me.