Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
He ducks, then rises again, untouched. “Almost got me that time. But I’m afraid you’re done. And I’m wasting time when I could be balls-deep in your slut. Don’t worry, I’ll marry her, make an honest woman of her. But she’ll never leave this house again. You were smart to be with her all these past weeks. I couldn’t find a moment to slide in and take her away. Until this morning. Perfect opportunity. And now she’s home for good.”
“You’ll never break her.” I’m slowly moving my left hand toward my belt.
“Wrong. I’m about to break her right now. Like I said, she’s spread wide, waiting for me to fuck her. She’ll be begging me to come on her face before the night is through.” He shrugs. “All right, that’s enough. It’s time for you to go.” He pulls a gun from behind him. “Once you’re done, I’ll fuck Evie, then head out and kill the rest of the Vinemont rats. You know …” He pauses and waves his gun to the side. “I’ve been thinking of taking trophies. Ears maybe? The children’s will be really cute all strung up on my headboard like a garland on a Christmas tree. Evie will love it.”
Blinding, acid wrath boils up inside me. I can’t win this. I know that. Not with a sniper in the trees behind me and this fucking Frankenstein dickhead in front. But I’m not going down alone. I’m taking this asshole with me if it’s the last thing I do.
“Nothing to say? No sarcastic last words?” He sneers.
“Nothing you’d understand, you goddamn brick.”
“I’ll give your regards to Evie. I’m sure she’ll—”
I lunge right as he tries to give his stupid goodbye taunt.
He fires, the bullet hitting my chest as I stab up as hard as I can with my blade. The blast knocks me back a pace, the bloody knife still in my hand as I fight through the pain and rush him again. I have to stay close or his sniper will tag me, and I have to do as much damage as I can before that happens. I stab and stab, using all my strength to pierce every fucking organ I can find.
He grunts, his body taking the hits as he brings the gun up again. Another slug pounds into my back. His sniper clearly doesn’t give a shit about friendly fire, but I have to stop attacking Charles and use my left hand to grab his wrist.
“You’re still going to lose.” He fires, the sound deafening so close to my ear. Then he fires again and again, trying his damndest to shoot me in the head. I keep the gun aimed just over my shoulder as I push against his beefy arm with all the strength I have. When the action starts to click instead of firing, I let his arm go, then drop to my ass, keeping my back to the fountain.
His sniper can’t reach me here, and I’m able to pick up the knife I dropped.
He still stands in front of me, his face dazed as blood soaks his shirt and pants, so I take the opportunity to stab his motherfucking feet like the petty bastard I am.
When he screams, I grin with delight, then move to his shins, slashing them through his pants.
He stumbles backwards and drops, and when he does his intestines play peekaboo through his tattered shirt.
“You’re done, dickhead. So fucking done.” I laugh as blood runs from his mouth.
“I’m the Sover—” His eyes roll up in his head, and he falls backward, his body thumping onto the stone patio.
“Hey, asshole!” I yell. “If you want to die like your boss, then keep on shooting. My brothers will be here any second, and they’ll happily take you out.” I sit still and inspect my wounds. The one in my arm stings like a motherfucker, but it’s not fatal. The one in my leg, though, it’s gushing. I can’t even feel anything past my knee. Not fucking good.
I yank my belt off as I hear something in the tree behind me. Stilling, I listen and barely catch retreating footsteps. I can’t believe that worked.
Looping my belt around my thigh, I make a tourniquet as best I can, then lean back. The fountain water splashes on me. Irritating. When I look up at the house, I try to figure out which room Evie’s in.
“Hate to break it to you, dumbass,” I call to the dead motherfucker beside me. “But there’s no way Evie was up there waiting for you to dick her. She’s probably got the room rigged to murder you the moment you walk in.”
He doesn’t respond. In the short time I knew him, he never was a good conversationalist. I laugh at my own joke until my eyes close from fatigue.