Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“To save myself. You threatened to kill me.”
His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Ah, but by your actions you have only condemned yourself.”
He clamped my bicep in a firm grip and dragged me to the hearth. With a slap of his scarred palm against the marble frame, and the entire structure spun like a lazy Susan, revealing a shadowed opening to a secret passage.
“Callen,” I cried as he forced me inside the musty, gloomy space and down a flight of stairs. “Please. Listen to me. Get Isobel’s phone. Threats fill the text messages to me.”
“How convenient for you.” He placed his palm over a section of the rock wall, and a circle symbol lit up beneath his fingers. The same symbol etched into his skin and my wedding ring. Another secret door opened in front of us, revealing a small, dim room without windows. There was a toilet, a cot, and a basket filled with what looked to be snacks and bottles of water.
“Listen to me,” I beseeched. “I didn’t run off with your brother, and I didn’t take those pictures with Tavish. I’m Elle. I only ever sought to survive and get home to my family. I grew to like you along the way.” To love you. “Don’t make me hate you.”
He spun me in front of him, forcing me to face him, only to release me as if I were toxic waste. A concept he shattered as he stalked forward, herding me deeper into the room. “You knew your day of reckoning would come, and you took measures to protect yourself by concocting this story. A smart move. But not smart enough. So you will stay here while I clean up the mess you’ve made of my life. I should have listened to Jamie.” Bitterness drenched his tone. “When I return, I’ll see to your punishment.”
That said, he slammed the door shut, sealing me in the room. Alone.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Battle Tested: Surviving and Thriving In Tough Times
From A Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss
Author Unknown
Tears of frustration seared my eyes as I frantically patted the walls, desperate to find a symbol. All I discovered were tiny grooves here and there.
After hours without success, I sank to the floor and drew my knees to my chest, distraught. What was I going to do?
Though I’d threatened Callen with my hatred, I couldn’t quite bring myself to blame him for my predicament. I’d decided to trust him a little too late, and this was the result. No doubt Tavish had sent him those pictures, if not directly, then through his mole or some other avenue. Payback for my unwillingness to play ball.
Actually, I bet Tavish had planned to send the pictures all along, even if I’d acted as he’d commanded. Perhaps it was the reason he’d aided Isobel. That’s what men of his ilk did. Schemed, lied and betrayed, wreaking havoc.
A wave of despair threatened to drown me. Even if Callen apologized for his actions today, we were done. And that wasn’t just my hurt talking. It wasn’t! I might understand why he’d locked me up, but I no longer desired to be part of his world. I only wished to go home to my family and forget.
I sniffled, fighting tears. Deep breath in. Out. In. Out. As I steadied internally, I rotated the wedding ring around the base of my finger. I refused to be stuck here. Like Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy, I would try and try again until I succeeded. There had to be a way. Callen had opened the secret doors with his scar. Did one symbol summon another? An idea bloomed.
Energized, I rifled through the basket of snacks and waters, hoping against hope to find what I needed. Alas. Nothing proved strong or sharp enough. I scanned the room. No little rocks had fallen to the floor.
My wedding ring glinted in the light, snagging my attention. I nibbled on my bottom lip. Maybe… With a tug, I slid the jewelry from my finger and worked to remove the diamond. Required some banging, but the gemstone finally slipped from its anchor, freeing the metal prongs. They weren’t exactly sharp, but they were certainly strong. They’d have to do.
Not giving myself time to back out of the plan, I stabbed a prong into the heel of my palm. Hard. Harder. Pain shot up my arm when the skin broke, and my vision momentarily blurred. But stop? No. As blood welled, I got to carving.
Twice, I almost passed out. The entire time, nausea churned in my stomach and sweat dripped from my nape. But still I didn’t quit. This was a matter of life and death. I pressed through the agony and completed the sequence of circles.
Crimson trickled from the wound as I clambered to my feet and stumbled toward the wall where I’d entered. I flattened my wound here and there, leaving crimson smears until—yes! My symbol aligned with tiny grooves, and the door opened.