Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Blood, blood, and more blood until you have nothing else to give them. They enjoy sucking the life out of you. That’s why I plan on giving them whatever I must. These Lords want you to go above and beyond and show them what you’re worth. The Lords don’t give you more than they want you to have. That way, they can hold it over your head or take it away when they decide you no longer need it.
Those who have power were born at the top. And the rest are left to feed off the bottom.
I go on to the next, and it’s of a luxurious black house sitting secluded back in the middle of the woods. It reminds me of a modern church. High peak rooftops that look like steeples and a lot of glass windows. Three stories tall and a wraparound porch. Even the outside furniture is black with white pillows. It’s gorgeous. The same white McLaren Sabre in the first photo with Haidyn sits in the driveway, but no one is around.
Is this his home? He’s supposed to live at Carnage. Maybe it was his childhood home. It did say his parents are dead. He could have kept the house. Or maybe it’s a weekend getaway? I guess he could be renting it, and this picture was taken while he was inside with the prostitute in the picture.
I wonder why a man like him needs to pay for sex. The women in our world fall at the Lords feet on any given day. Most want to become a Lady. The girls who attended Barrington do anyway. They want a lavish life with endless shopping sprees. Who cares if their husbands cheat on them? It just means they don’t have to put out as much. Plus, higher-ranking Lords are placed with higher-ranking Ladies, so it’s not like they’re marrying down. We are raised and groomed from an early age to accept what our future holds. It’s like anything else in this world—it’s all we know.
A new email pops up, and I exit out of the one I’m in to open it. It’s of me. A picture that was taken today while I was on my UNKNOWN call standing outside of the restaurant. Then below is outlined like Haidyn’s was.
I read over it again, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do. A therapist? I know nothing about that shit. And Charlotte? I sound like an elementary school teacher. I’ve always hated the name Annabelle. I asked my mother why she named me after a doll that haunts and kills people. She told me it was after her and her best friend…but Charlotte isn’t much better if you ask me.
Closing the laptop, I sit back and slump in the chair, trying to wrap my brain around what to do now. I have three months to make a new life, find new friends, and get a boyfriend—who doesn’t want to fuck me. This is going to be harder than I thought. Can’t I just kill someone instead?
Opening it back up, I type out a response.
And press send. Chewing on my nails, I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. Maybe it’s just a cover, and I’m not actually his therapist. That would make more sense, but still…
I have a response and open it.
I send the reply. My new phone rings a moment later.
“Hello?” I answer the UNKNOWN call.
“Carnage,” the altered voice growls in greeting.
“Carnage?” I ask.
“He’s a Spade brother,” he barks at me as if I haven’t read the emails he sent. “Look…you either take the assignment or walk away. That’s your choice.”
“Yes, of course.” I sit up straighter before he can hang up on me. “I…just—am I not allowed to have questions?” I need a little more information than what he’s given me, and I don’t think I’m asking for the impossible.
“No,” he replies. “You have three months to change your life. If you don’t get it done, then we’ll decide for you.”
Click.
HAIDYN
Senior year at Barrington
The vow ceremony is quickly approaching, and my father is on my ass. He’s mad because I refused to choose my best friend’s girl.
No amount of money or power will make me betray Saint like that.
I pull up to my father’s house and make my way inside. He spends most of his time at Carnage, so I’m surprised he’s here. I already know he’s in his office. His doors are closed, but I enter without knocking. He’s expecting me.
Entering, I see him sitting behind his desk, a glass of brandy in one hand and a pen in the other, as if he’s just signed a deal. “Son.” He gets to his feet, motioning me to come have a seat.
I cross my arms over my chest and say nothing.
He gestures to a man who sits on the couch to the left. I immediately know he’s a Lord by the way he’s dressed and sits there like he fucking owns the world. We’re all conditioned to have that mentality.