Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I’d just put in my fifth request to be moved to gen-pop so I could at least get a work assignment and move around during the day. Yes, I would have to socialize with gangs, murderers, thieves, and every other flavor of criminal, but I preferred that over being locked up by myself where the only thing I had was my thoughts of revenge.
Stark…
According to Uncle Jimmie, things went right back to “normal” after my conviction. He wouldn’t say any more than that, other than assuring me he was safe and looking after my family. I knew there was more going on, but he didn’t want to worry me.
After all, what could I do to help from here? Nothing.
So I just wrote letters to every rag, blogger, and sci-fi conspiracy group, warning them about Stark and vampires in general. Maybell was helping me.
The door to my cell swung open. “Kicklighter, your lawyer’s here.” One of the prison guards stood in the doorway.
“Don’t have a lawyer. You’ve got the wrong inmate.” I went back to writing on my toilet paper.
“Suit yourself, but he told me to give you a message.”
I looked up.
“He said you must return to the throne.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“You must return to the throne,” he said robotically.
Something felt very off about this conversation. “Does this lawyer have a name?”
“No.”
A correctional officer wasn’t about to play messenger for some random lawyer who wandered into the prison without ID. They had very strict protocols. Plus, it was seven at night, way past visiting hours.
“I’ll come.” I set down my crayon and followed the guard out of my cell. He didn’t even bother to cuff me. Weird.
When I entered the private visitation room, I found my “murder victim” sitting there, looking more alive and beautiful than ever in a dark gray suit and blood-red tie. His silky hair was pulled back, exposing the pulsing muscles in his angular jaw.
My hackles rose, and the rage pooled in my chest. He was lucky I wasn’t allowed to have pencils because he’d be out an eye.
“Here to gloat, Stark?”
“Maybe a little. But mostly I am here to talk.” His eyes glided to the chair across from him. “You look lovely in orange, by the way.”
I glanced down at my hideous prison shirt. Did he think this was funny?
“Sit,” he commanded.
I remained standing.
“Please?” he added.
I drew a breath and took a seat.
“Masie, I know you probably do not wish to see me.”
“Probably?” I raised a brow.
“Fine. You absolutely do not wish to see me. And though I’d planned to watch you rot in here forever,” his gaze settled on the table, “the truth is, I cannot. I miss you. I ache every night, knowing you are in here suffering.”
Right. Sure. After enduring the most humiliating murder trial of my life, I’d been locked up for six months now—seven if you counted my arrest and jail time when I was denied bail. The entire world thought I was some psycho who’d chopped up a random John Doe whom I’d invited into my house. There had been no sign of forced entry and no weapons on my victim. My self-defense story flopped.
Why did I listen to Thomas? Such an idiot! I meant me, of course.
Now they were about to make a Netflix special about me. Did Stark have any idea how that felt? I’d be put alongside Dahmer or the freaking Zodiac in the docucrime section.
I glared, biting my tongue, hateful words flooding my mind. “Cut the crap, vampire. You don’t miss me. Just say what you want.”
“I do miss you, and that is the truth. But if admitting it means nothing to you, then I will stick to business. We are closer than ever to civil war. A million vampires are rallying, ready to defy our laws and come out of the shadows.”
So, basically, Stark and his minions were about to lose power. The Party was about to be overthrown.
I folded my hands on the cold stainless-steel table. “What would you like me to do about it?” Because, if he hadn’t noticed, I was locked up. For killing him!
“What if I could get you out of here?”
“Sure. Sounds great. But let me repeat myself—what do you want me to do about it?”
“Everyone still believes you are my Anna and,” he looked down, unable to meet my angry gaze, “they believe I had you locked up because I wish to maintain power.”
And they’d be right.
He continued, “Our people are not happy. But if I were to free you, and you told them to stand down—that this is not the right time to go public—I think we could stop the uprising. Your words will carry much weight.”
I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “So they see you for who you really are: a power-hungry, vindictive vampire who’d do anything to stay in charge, even putting an innocent woman in prison.”