Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I want to stab him in the throat. He’s sitting there all smug, drinking his coffee, looking like he rules the world and I’m just a little ant beneath his boot, like Riley was an ant, poor dead Riley, crushed by a bunch of slobbering beasts. I’m so mad I could scream, but I need to get myself together and come up with a plan. If I can’t convince him to tell me where to go, I’ll need to start looking on my own.
I talk quietly and make sure he feels every word: “My stepfather, we called him The Fist, on account of him loving to hit me. Riley was the only person that seemed to care. She’d nurse me back to health when he went too far and talked me down from the cliff when I wanted to end all my misery. My mother, she was too drugged out and blind to see what was happening, but Riley was my rock. She gave me everything growing up in that horrible place, and I was resentful when she left. Can you imagine? I was resentful that she left.”
“I’m sorry you had a hard life,” he says and I believe him. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not a child.”
“Riley was my everything and now she’s gone. Louie took her from me. You have to understand, Damon. I need this if I’m going to keep going, if I’m going to keep breathing. I can’t live with myself if I know he’s out there, I just can’t. So please, help me.”
He sits back and studies me, and for one moment I think he might do it, but I watch his face cloud over as he takes another long sip from his mug. I know I’ve lost him, and I don’t understand why the world keeps offering me something good only to turn it sour just a moment later. Calvino, the club, Riley, now this, now everything, it’s all rotten at the core and no matter how hard I try to clean the rot away, it just keeps turning bad.
I’ll never escape it. I’m trapped in this cycle, doomed to misery.
A car door slams outside and I sit up straight, my heart racing. Damon gives me a sad smile.
“Sorry, Grace,” he says and stands.
“Who did you call?” I shove back from the table and stumble to my feet. I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder, looking around wildly for an exit. “Who did you call, Damon? It’s Calvino, isn’t it? Why would you bring Calvino here?”
Calvino’s never going to let me go once he catches me. He’ll lock me up in that room and say it’s for my own good, but it’s for his good, because he can’t stand to let me live, to let me take my own risks. He’ll protect me, but he’ll smother me in the same breath.
Damon says nothing as the front door opens.
I turn away. I can’t face him. I know Calvino’s face is going to be miserable and angry and judging and sad, and I don’t want to see it because it’ll break me, it’ll truly break me, and I don’t want to be shattered before I have a chance to go through with my revenge. The footsteps come and I’m trembling, tears in my eyes. I don’t want to go back, but I do, I desperately do, I want him to save me from myself and bring me home, bring me to that apartment, rub my feet, kiss my lips, pour me wine, call me his good girl and fuck me until I scream, god, I want it so badly.
I want Calvino to protect me. I want him to take me back.
I turn and there’s Vince.
It’s like being punched in the face. All the blood rushes from my skin and I’m numb.
He smiles at me as I take a step back and knock into an end table. A lamp rolls and falls onto the floor, shattering.
“Hello, Grace,” he says.
“No,” I say and look at Damon.
“He’s my Don,” Damon says and he won’t meet my eye, as if that explains anything, the bastard, that sick piece of shit.
Vince approaches, grinning so big it’s like his face might split.
“Make this easy, Grace, or make it hard. Either way we’re going to have a chat, you and me. Let’s get out of here and head back to the Sandtrap, okay?”
I turn and try to run. I make it halfway to the door before Vince catches me, grabs my wrist, and yanks me back. He slams me to the floor and shoves a black hood over my head—“Fuck, is that necessary, Vince? Jesus, you’re going to fucking kill her,” Damon says—and I feel Vince laughing.
“Now let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?” he asks, hauls me to my feet, and drags me away.