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)
What’s that saying? The bigger they are, the harder they fall?
I can do this. I saw the way he looked at me. I’m too close. He won’t give me anything because there’s definitely something there. I’ve just got to dig deeper, and I vow right now to do just that.
It’s been a week since Haidyn caught me sitting outside his house. I haven’t had any contact with him whatsoever, but I’ve got another week before I have another scheduled appointment with him.
I reported to the Lords that I had my visit with him last week, and when they asked how it went, I said as good as expected. They didn’t question me any further. I left out the officer and the holding cell and needing my fake boyfriend. I felt that wasn’t important.
They asked how I found him, and I couldn’t lie. If I’m searching for shit on my laptop, then I guarantee they can see it too. That makes me nervous because they can see where he is too.
But I remind myself if they want him dead, he’d be dead. I’m a toy. Something they dangle in front of him while something else happens behind the scenes. That’s how they are.
I enter my house and make my way through the kitchen. Frowning, I find it odd that I didn’t leave the stove light on like I always do. I went out with my fake friends tonight for dinner and let them talk me into drinks afterward at the bar down the street. I stayed out later than I intended to, but I just needed to clear my mind and try to get it off the Spade brother that has quickly consumed my life. I’m dreaming about him now, for fuck’s sake. And most nights, he’s strangling me because he wants me dead. The others…he’s fucking me.
I flip the switch and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrew the lid. Turning around, I jump, and water splashes on my face when I squeeze the bottle after seeing someone sitting at my kitchen table.
He’s got a black cloak on and a devil’s mask with horns. A Lord. I haven’t heard from them since I reported back last week. Surely, they don’t know I’m lying. How would they? I haven’t been given any actual instructions that I haven’t followed through with. “I…I don’t know…”
He stands from the chair, and the legs scrape across the floor from his movement, making me flinch. He steps toward me, and I grab a butcher knife out of the wooden block that sits on the counter. “Stay back,” I warn, tightening my shaking hand around the handle.
A dark laugh fills the space, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My eyes quickly scan the kitchen. Lords rarely come alone. They’re like wolves and travel in packs. They’re known for their numbers. They like to improve their odds. Even if they don’t need the help, they get off on having an audience.
He takes two more steps closer, and I fling the knife, knowing it’s my only option. The last thing I need is for him to take it from me and stab me with it.
The knife lands in what I’m guessing is his upper right arm by the way the cloak hangs, forcing him to come to a stop.
I spin around, taking the opportunity to run toward my bedroom. I slam the door shut to give me an extra second to yank open my top drawer in my nightstand, grab the gun, and turn to shoot. But the sight of him rushing in tells me he’s faster. The door hits the interior wall as I fire the gun. The safety is off, and there’s one already chambered just as my wrist is grabbed. Though I’m momentarily going deaf from firing the gun, I’m slammed into the wall next to the nightstand. The hand gripping my wrists tightens to the point I scream and drop the gun.
His free hand jerks the knife out of his shoulder and holds the tip to my cheek, making me whimper. I try to push myself into the wall, standing on my tiptoes to get away.
“I like to play with knives,” he whispers darkly.
“Pl-ease,” I gasp. “I haven’t seen your face. You can leave…”
He pushes the mask off, and my breath catches in my lungs. It’s far worse than I could have ever guessed. “Haidyn?” I ask wide-eyed.
“Surprise, doll face.” He yanks me from the wall and drags me back to the kitchen by my hair.
I fight the best I can, grinding my teeth at the sharp pain in my scalp. He shoves me into a chair at the kitchen table. Leaning over my back, I rub my head as he taps the bloody knife on a stack of papers sitting in front of me. “What…what is this?” I read over it, and my stomach drops. Tears fill my eyes, making the typed-out words blur. “How did you…?” I swallow, unable to finish the sentence.