Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“What on earth,” my biji says, looking toward my bedroom door.
I don’t even do that.
I don’t even look. I jump out of the bed and run to the door. I throw it open, dash down the hallway and reach the landing and…
I have to catch the banister or I would’ve fallen down the stairs.
Because he is here.
He’s at my house.
All tall and broad and battered and bruised.
And he’s got my mother pinned against a wall, with his fingers wrapped around her throat. My mother.
Oh my God.
And then I’m running again. Or rather flying down the stairs. Just as I reach the bottom, I realize there are all these people around him. He’s got a couple of guys, bodyguards, trying to pull him away from my mother but to no avail. I notice my dad standing to the side, looking horrified by the blatant display of aggression.
And then there’s my mother who just squeaked, her eyes wide and fear-ridden, her hands swatting at Stellan’s chest, his wrists.
As he growls, “I dare you to say another thing against your daughter. Because all I need is one excuse, just one, to snuff the life out of your sorry little ass. So just –”
“Stellan,” I call out.
And then run toward him.
He’s only a few feet away but it might as well be miles. And in those miles, I get waylaid by bodyguards, my father, people I don’t even look at because my focus is entirely on the man who’s trying to kill my mother.
For me.
Finally when I do reach him, I don’t hesitate.
I fist his shirt and try to pull him away from her. “Stellan, no. Don’t!”
He doesn’t listen.
He keeps the pressure around my mother’s throat and her eyes are getting wider and wider. And my attempts become urgent. I tug and pull and demand, “Stellan, please. Please let her go. You’re killing her, okay? Just let her go. Please.” I’m on his arm now, my fists twisting and twisting in his shirt. “Please. She’s not worth it. She’s not.”
And I’m right.
She’s my mother and I love her.
But she’s not worth Stellan losing his shit over. She’s so not worth Stellan doing something drastic over. That I know he’ll regret later.
I know.
And I’ll be damned if my mother—of all people—becomes another burden for him.
I pull on his arm again. “Please, baby.”
I snatch my hands away then.
I didn’t mean to say that.
I didn’t mean to use an endearment. And I know it’s super crazy to think about this slipup when so many other dire things are happening. My mother’s still squeaking and appears to be dying. Men are still trying to get Stellan off her. My dad still looks horrified.
But the moment I call him that, he finally switches his focus on me.
And God, God in addition to snatching my hands away from him, I also have to take a few steps back. Because his eyes, gosh his eyes, are lava. They are blazing lava. So intense, so molten, so fucking… bright.
Like there’s really a wildfire raging inside of him.
Uncontrolled. Unfettered.
Free.
And it’s going to eat him alive.
Pair that with his messy hair, his wrinkled clothes from last night, his bruises – good Lord, his bruises, vicious and angry – he looks like an avenging angel. Sent down to earth to destroy everything and everyone who means me harm.
Actually a devil with revenge on his mind.
He roves those burning eyes of his all over my face before finally, finally letting my mom go. Not all the way though; he still has his hold on her. But enough that she’s not in mortal danger anymore. A relieved breath whooshes out of me at that—which I hate mostly because it’s more for his sanity than for my mother’s safety.
He notices it, my chest moving up and down with a jerky breath. Then, turning back to my mom who’s trying to catch her breath, “Say thank you.”
Mom’s eyes jerk up to his, a little of her defiance coming back to life. “W-what?”
He leans closer to her and my heart starts to pound again. “Say thank you to your daughter. Because she just saved your life.”
“I will not –”
In response, he cuts her off by squeezing her throat. Causing my mother to squeak again.
Then, in a growly, threatening voice, “Say fucking thank you.”
“Stellan, she doesn’t –”
“T-Thank you,” she gasps out.
My eyes go wider as I take in my mom’s horrified face without being able to utter a word.
Stellan doesn’t have such problem as he goes, “This,” my mother’s eyes go back to his, “here, is your lesson number one in how to talk to your daughter and the answer is nicely. Should you forget that, I will be back to remind you. And if that happens,” he flexes his grip around her throat again, “you should know that I forget things too. Like letting your fucking throat go in time before you choke to death.”