Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Look at him!
Jack turned and stared down at him. The great and powerful chancellor, a self-proclaimed king, a monster among monsters, lying in his own shit, piss, and blood.
He deserves worse, Jack thought as a cold calm spread over his skin.
No mercy. Just like he shows you…
Jack tore his gaze. There wasn’t time.
In the corner, he pulled back the Persian rug and lifted the loose floorboard. Reaching into the shadows, he withdrew the manuscript, its pages worn and softened from months of reading. Margins now marked with annotations about the truth.
Every warped philosophy, every method of manipulation, every cold-blooded assessment of how to dehumanize others for one’s personal gain. It was all there.
Mr. Carrow said knowledge was a weapon, and now Jack knew his enemy better than anyone, including Mr. Carrow or the chancellor himself. He knew the lengths he would go to achieve his goals, the crimes he committed to collect a long line of bullshit trophies and crowns.
A disgusting manifesto of an insane megalomaniac. The song of a twisted, narcissistic giant. And it was going to be what destroyed him in the end.
Jack grabbed another pillowcase and shoved the manuscript inside, adding clothes and—
The grandfather clock chimed again, and Jack froze.
Supper.
A low, wet gurgle rose from the corner. The Pavlovian response of a fat beast, even a bludgeoning, couldn’t break.
Jack watched in horror as the chancellor’s fat fingers twitched. Another gurgled moan.
Setting down the sack, he crept closer, sweeping the blood-smeared golden goose off the floor by its long neck.
The giant continued to stir. The solid brass slipped slowly in Jack’s hand, his grip tightening around the brass neck so the base of the gaudy statue hung lower at his side. He crept closer.
A moan.
Blood matted his skull where a gash formed a seeping, red mouth beneath his thinning hair. Jack’s knuckles popped, bleaching of color as he gripped the slick golden goose and stared unblinking as a lifetime of nightmares lay at his feet.
Do it.
He couldn’t look away.
DO IT.
The world silenced. His heart slowed.
DO IT!!!
A raw, animalistic roar tore from Jack’s chest as the goose came down with a sickening crunch, brass connecting with bone.
He drew back, flesh sticking with a revolting slurp, and the chancellor made an inhuman wheeze.
“Fuck you!” He swung again. And again. And again. Each impact sent shockwaves up his arms as blood spattered his face and chest.
When he staggered backwards, the white walls of his golden prison dripped with red.
Jack dropped the golden goose, staring in horror as he stumbled toward the door.
His jaw trembled. Jack tripped over his feet, slipping on the pillowcase of clothes. He crashed into the nightstand. The room spun. His hands wore liquid gloves of red, making everything slick.
Aurin wasn’t moving. No sign of breathing.
I killed him.
Jack snatched the pillowcase with the manuscript off the floor and shoved the golden goose inside. There wasn’t time to think. He needed to move.
Bolting out of the room, he ran for the servants’ stairs, retrieved the other pillowcase bulging with money, and rushed for the nearest door, only to stop and backtrack when staff members passed at the end of the hall.
Think!
The kitchen entrance would be busy this close to supper. The front door was impossible. But the garage…
Jack pressed himself into an alcove, holding his breath, two pillowcases clutched at his side. They didn’t look his way. Didn’t see the bloody footprints on the floor.
As soon as they passed, he raced down the hall. Past the door to the wine cellar. Down the passage that connected the main house to the garage.
The door was unlocked, but the knob slipped under his blood-soaked hands. “Come on!” It finally opened.
The cold air smelled of petrol and polish. Five vehicles sat gleaming like five golden rings. Jack had never driven a car. Had never even sat in the front seat.
The key box hung on the wall beside the door. He yanked it open, scanned the labelled hooks, and snatched a fob with trembling fingers. He pressed the unlock button, and the fourth car chirped in response, its lights flashing.
The Porsche.
He could do this. What choice did he have?
Opening the door, he threw the pillowcases into the passenger seat and dropped behind the wheel, hardly able to see over the dashboard. The interior reeked of the chancellor’s cologne, and his stomach lurched. He jammed the key toward the—
No ignition.
No keyhole.
Just a sleek dashboard.
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
He pressed random buttons, smearing blood over the pristine veneer. Nothing.
Jack slammed his bloody palm against the steering wheel. “Start, you sonofabitch!”
His foot. The brake.
Dropping low in the seat, Jack stomped the pedals and jabbed the big button again. The engine roared to life, then screeched.
“Shit!”
“Hey!”
His attention snapped to the small door. One of the drivers came charging toward him. “Get out of there!”
Jack slammed the gear shift, and the car lunged forward. His face smacked into the steering wheel. Stars exploded behind his eyes.