Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I scramble like my whole fucking life depends on it, and just as I reach for the guard, something grips my leg, yanking me back so hard that I fall. My head slams against the ground, my white silk cami catching on concrete rubble from the broken wall and tearing right through the center.
A blood-curdling scream rips out of me as I’m pulled back. Stone’s gaze whips toward me, distracting him just long enough for someone to break through his wild defenses and land a devastating blow to his perfectly carved face.
Blood spurts from his cheek, splattering against the wall as the asshole clutching my leg drags me back. Adrenaline pulses through my veins, and as my fight-or-flight instincts kick into top gear, I fight for my goddamn life, using my other leg to whip around and clock the fucker right in the jaw.
I hear an awful crack, and as the asshole roars in agony and releases his hold on my leg, another inmate shoves him out of the way, the one with some kind of homemade knife in his hand.
My eyes widen in horror, my heart beating like never before, and as he hovers over me with his shiv in hand, the terror grips me in a chokehold. A vile grin pulls across his lips, making my stomach sink. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” he rumbles, just seconds before he lunges at me.
I scream and throw myself back, scrambling toward the unconscious guard, lunging for his discarded gun. With my finger over the trigger, I whip back, point, close my eyes, and squeeze.
BANG!
A warm spray of blood splatters across my face and forearms, and I open my eyes reluctantly, keeping the gun raised in my shaking hands.
His eyes widen as he clutches the wound in his chest, and not a moment later, he falls toward me, the shiv still clutched in his hand and angling right toward my throat.
I hastily shimmy aside just in time as the inmate slams against the ground, the shiv clattering right beside my shoulder as heaving breaths tear through my chest.
I killed a man.
Holy fucking shit. I just killed a man.
The alarms still blare through the prison, hammering in my ears, and with more inmates pushing their way into the cramped conference room, there’s no time to dwell on the body bleeding out beside me.
“GET BEHIND ME,” I distantly hear Stone’s chilling tone cut through the madness, and his order breaks through the fog clouding my every thought.
Without a second of hesitation, I grab the discarded shiv off the ground and scramble back to my feet, racing to get behind Stone as he leaves a mountain of dead bodies in his wake.
My back slams against the wall, the gun in one hand and the shiv in the other, and even fully armed, there’s no denying that I still don’t stand a chance.
Stone glances back for just a second, seeing the two weapons grasped firmly in my hands, and he shakes his head as if I haven’t got a clue what to do with either of them. He’s kinda right, but that doesn’t change the fact that I just dropped a body. I’m not completely useless.
“Give me that before you hurt yourself,” he snaps, and before I can protest, he snatches the shiv right out of my capable fingers. Then, in complete horror and disbelief, I watch Stone Blackthorne effortlessly tear his way through men like a knife slicing through warm butter.
There’s no doubt about it; Stone is a beast. That much was clear the moment I saw him on TV all those years ago. But Stone Blackthorne with a weapon in his hand? Well, fuck. He’s an unstoppable machine.
Some of the prisoners take off, realizing they don’t stand a chance against Stone, but some aren’t bright enough to walk away from a fight. They’re too focused on winning me as a prize to escape with their lives.
Dead bodies pile up like offerings to a god that never answers, and I hold my gun like a lifeline, but I guess that’s exactly what it is. I have no idea how to tell how many bullets are left, and I don’t dare risk taking my eyes off the men in the room to figure it out, but no guard in a maximum security prison is getting around with only one bullet in the chamber. There’s got to be at least three or four, if it’s not completely full. Minus the one that’s currently residing in my new friend’s chest.
The space in the room feels even more cramped as the piles of motionless bodies grow. There must be at least ten to fifteen men on the ground. There’s no way to count or to even know if they’re just out cold or meeting their maker, not until Stone moves out of my way, but he’s too big. It’s almost impossible to see around him properly. But the truth is, as long as he’s willing to stand in front of me and play the role of my protector, then I don’t give a shit how many bodies he drops at my feet.