Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I scoff. “Believe whatever you want, it’s true. Go back to Edge and ask him if he has a sister.”
“Who cares if he has a sister? Doesn’t mean you’re her.”
“You have no idea who he is, do you?”
“Sure I do.” Then he stands up and throws a ten down on the table. “He’s my boss.” And then he walks out.
I sit there, kinda stunned for a moment, doubting everything that just happened. He did not react the way I anticipated. But I should’ve seen it coming. This was a major mistake. And not the kind that gets me a good choke and a spanking at the end of the day.
It’s the kind that gets me sent back to training.
I’m up, crossing the restaurant so fast, I catch him just outside the doors of the diner. I don’t look around for Brose, I focus only on Ean Shephard.
“He killed my father,” I say. It’s not a whisper, either. Which is super risky, but the people around us are involved in their own conversations.
Shep turns. “What?”
“You heard me. He killed my father. Right in front of me, when I was eight years old. Blood spattered all over my face. I was traumatized for life.” I let out a long breath, suddenly tired. Because all of this is true. “That moment? It was two seconds long. And these two seconds ruined me.”
Shep grabs my arm and pulls me into a nearby alley. We stand there, looking at each other, as he looms over me like a threat. When he finally speaks, his words are deep, and low, and angry. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He’s still got a hold of my arm, so I shrug it out of his grip and harden myself for what comes next. I’m angry because this guy, he’s no one. He’s a fucking job. And now I have to tell him something real. I have to tell him something personal so I don’t get demoted for fucking this job up, or worse, be labeled a Remedial and get sent to the Faders.
I look him straight in the eyes. “I was eight. It was New Year’s Eve and I was sleeping while Collin and his girlfriend were babysitting. Some man broke into our house, came into my room, put his hand over my mouth, and dragged me into the hallway. Collin was there. He must’ve heard a noise or something, and he came into the hallway as the man was trying to pull me out the back door holding the rifle my father kept in the front closet. His girlfriend, Lowyn, she was behind him. The kidnapper let go of me, put his hands up to surrender, and Collin shot him anyway. Killed him. Right in front of me. I was covered in blood and bits of bone and skin from head to toe.”
“That man. The kidnapper? He was your father?”
I nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. I didn’t find this out until much, much later, but my mother was a very pregnant Blackberry Hill runaway. She had me in the Creed basement. I guess they took her in. And then… they just… kept me.”
“And raised you as their own?”
I nod. “A few months later, Collin was gone. He joined the Marines to get out of Trinity County. But I guess you never really leave, do you?”
Shep’s eyes narrow down. “Why are you telling me this?”
I narrow my eyes right back. “Because you don’t know him.”
“Who cares? He’s my boss. I don’t give a fuck who he is. I give a fuck about what he can do. And this little story of yours—even if it’s true—was the wrong move, darlin’. Because all it did was make me like him more.”
Then he turns towards the street, like he’s just gonna walk away.
My heart thumps inside my chest, adrenaline rushing through my body as a precursor to the panic that’s coming. “We’re going to kill him,” I yell. “And you’re gonna be caught in the middle. So good fucking luck.”
Shep turns around and even though I don’t know him, I can tell that I’ve pissed him off. “Shut your fucking mouth.” These words come out low and soft, but filled with threats all the same as he stalks back in my direction. He leans in to my face. “Shut your fucking mouth right now or I swear to God, I’ll shut it for you.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice softer now. He’s worried about people hearing us, so I take that worry away. “Why should I shut up? Nothing I just told you was a lie.”
“You’re the lie, not your words. Do you think I can’t tell what you are?”
“What I am?” I scoff.
“You’re bent.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Do I look like a literal idiot? I know what you are, Olive. I know who you work for.”