Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“You’re running out of time, girl. Say what you want. Make it worth it for me when I end you.”
I release a pained cry as my eyes hold Marek’s, and I can’t help but ask the question that swims around in my mind daily.
“Did any of it matter?” I sob, my bottom lip trembling.
Marek’s look is so pained, it hurts to keep my eyes on him, but I do.
“Yes,” he grinds out.
“Aw, how sweet,” the man behind me laughs. “Did you want me to count it down, or...”
“Let her go,” Marek orders. “If you kill her, I’ll come after you, I won’t stop until every last one of you is in the ground. I’ll make you scream until the last breath leaves your body. I will start a war that you can’t win.”
The man laughs. “I’m sure you will, but it’ll be worth it to watch your face when she dies.”
“Please,” I try again, my voice barely a croak.
“Three.”
The man presses the gun to my head so hard my skin burns.
“Two.”
I close my eyes, an agonized wail leaving my lips as I bellow Marek’s name.
His angry roar fills my ears.
“One.”
A gunshot rings out, then I’m on the ground.
My screams fill the night.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’m still breathing.
That nothing hurts.
Is this what death feels like?
Maybe you’re not aware it happens?
It’s only when I hear my cries, that I know it’s not possible that I’m gone. I can feel the dirt beneath my cheek as I lay on the ground, wailing. It’s a terrified wail, one of fear and shock, but I can’t seem to stop it. Cool hands grip my shoulders, and then I’m being hauled up. I come face to face with Alexis, who is saying something I can’t hear.
My eyes move around, but they’re blurred with dirt and blood.
The man who was holding me is on the ground, blood pouring from his head, his eyes wide open and staring into nothingness.
“It’s okay,” Alexis soothes, pressing my head into her as she sits behind me, rocking me until my ears stop ringing, and my cries die down.
“W-w-what,” I gasp, shaking my head in confusion.
“We came back because I forgot my purse after the show, and lucky we did. We saw everything go down. Western shot that man. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Marek?” I whisper.
She looks up, and then a moment later, she moves away from me and is replaced with Marek. He stares down at me, kneeling in the dirt, his hands stretching out for my face. He swipes my bloody hair back, then he’s pulling me closer until I’m crushed against him. He doesn’t say a word, not a single word, but this moment is the exact moment that everything changes. I feel it deep inside me.
I clutch him, hanging on as tightly as I can, my body trembling.
Marek pulls me back, his hand on my chin, staring down at me as he swipes my hair back again, his fingers running through the blood on my face, as if trying to wipe it away. Then, he leans down, and his lips capture mine. He kisses me with such force, my breath gets stuck in my lungs as he clutches me close, his mouth moving over mine in frantic desperation.
I can taste my blood, and dirt, but none of it matters.
He kisses me until I forget that there are people around us, that someone just died, that I nearly lost my life.
I just kiss him, deep and long, relishing in the feeling of his hand on my chin, so forceful, so strong.
When he pulls away, there is something different in his gaze.
An emotion I’ve never seen.
Compassion.
“She needs to have her head looked at,” Western mutters. “Take her in. We’ll deal with this.”
He kicks the dead body on the ground, unbothered.
Bikers.
Marek nods, pushing to his feet and bringing me up with him. He extends a bloodied hand, and Western takes it, giving it a quick shake before turning and pulling out his phone. Marek doesn’t release my hand even for a second as he leads me back to the RV, still not having spoken to me.
When we’re inside, he sits me down and goes to collect some things he’ll need to clean me up.
I watch him the whole time, my eyes following his every move, and when he’s in front of me again, wiping the blood away with a wet cloth, I can’t help reaching out, my fingers stroking down his cheek. He flinches, but for the first time, he doesn’t pull away. He lets me run my fingertips over his skin, over the scars, over his beard, and he doesn’t push me away.
“Did you mean it, when you said it meant something?” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine. “I’m not a good man, Ellie Mae.”
“That’s not what I was asking.”