Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Right away, I notice a car parked down the block from the end of the cul-de-sac that definitely does not belong here. Nix’s car. They must have left it here to keep from being noticed. I park in the next empty spot near the curb, kill the engine, and sit in silence for what feels like forever. Am I seriously doing this? I can’t turn back now.
It’s a cool night, and the air hitting my skin once I step out of the car makes me shiver. I shove my fists into the pockets of my hoodie and tuck my chin close to my chest, walking quickly the rest of the way to a set of open gates at the end of a wide driveway leading up to a house that sits above the others.
The grounds around the house are covered in trees, giving some privacy and cover for me to sneak up there without worrying about being spotted. There are no lights on in the front of the house, and I walk as quietly as I can around the outside, listening hard for anything coming from behind the walls.
The first beams of light I see comes from windows just above ground level, telling me they’re in the basement. Something inside me is almost too afraid to let me get any closer—my feet are rooted to the ground, and I’m shaking so hard it’s tough to walk a straight line. But this isn’t about me, it’s about them, and thinking about what they might be going through keeps me moving until I reach the window and lower myself to one knee, peeking inside.
I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to hold back my gasp. There are three people in there, two men and a woman, and the men take turns punching Nix while a bloody, bruised Colt watches. Nix spits blood onto his T-shirt and lifts his head, saying something I can’t hear with the windows closed. Whatever it is, it enrages the woman holding a gun on them—she shrieks something and motions with the gun like she wants to fire. One of the men has to be George, though I don’t know who the other one is. Not like it matters.
They’re going to kill them. Why else would they have them tied up like they are? I can’t just stand here and let that happen.
Now I rush, jogging to the back door with the gun tucked in my waistband, the way I saw Nix and Colt do it before they left. The back door is broken—that must be how they got in.
The kitchen is large but cluttered, messy, like it’s been neglected for a while. I hear voices coming from downstairs. The basement door is open next to the fridge, and I tiptoe toward it, careful in case there’s a squeaky floorboard or something else that would give me away. They’re obviously too busy down there to notice anything up here, though. Shouting, accusations, and pained groans from the sounds of flesh hitting flesh tell me the beating is still going on. I have to stop them. But how?
Footsteps ring out. Somebody’s coming up. With my heart in my throat, I tiptoe away, rounding a graceful archway separating the kitchen from the room beyond it. Everything is dark—not that I would care about the decor if the lights were on.
“Maybe it’s time to use the knives.” It’s the woman of the group, now standing in the kitchen. Knives? It’s enough to make my blood run cold. She’s puttering around in there, doing something at the sink—before coming my way.
I have to do something. I have to stop this!
She walks past the archway and doesn’t notice me standing in the dark—at least until she hears me draw the gun from my waistband and click the safety off and point it at her. All at once, she turns around, her mouth hanging open, and the light coming from the kitchen illuminates her eyes as they widen in understanding.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn through gritted teeth. I barely recognize my voice. “I want you to turn around and get on your knees, hands behind your head. Do it,” I go on, aiming at her head.
“If I scream, they’ll come running,” she whispers.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have all these bullets. Do it.” Who am I? Oh, right. I’m a girl trying to save the men she loves.
She turns in a circle, lowering herself to her knees. “You’re going to regret this, you little slut. You’re going to be sorry.”
When she’s kneeling, her hands behind her head, I step up close behind her and touch the metal to her back. All I have to do is pull the trigger. That’s it. It’ll be so easy.
I can’t. I just can’t. How am I supposed to take a life?