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’m no longer terrified of him. Sure, he’s one hell of a scary dude, and I wouldn’t ever want to cross him, but there’s no denying his energy has shifted since last night. Sitting under those trees and just talking like that . . . I don’t know, there was a strange sense of familiarity, and I was comfortable with him. Apparently comfortable enough for my unconscious body to wriggle its way through the foliage and sleep in his arms.
Shit. What is wrong with me?
Moral of the story, he doesn’t look at me as though he’s plotting my death anymore. There’s a rich curiosity there, and definitely a level of deep suspicion. He’s not willing to completely trust me, but after showing him the scar on the back of my head and explaining how I managed to land myself in the hospital for almost a year, something seems to have settled within him.
I have no recollection of that time, and if I truly am who he says I am, then there’s a possibility that I didn’t betray him as he seems to think I did.
What I can’t wrap my head around is that I don’t have a family. I sat in the hospital every day, waiting for someone to walk through the door and claim me, telling myself that they didn’t come because they couldn’t. I pictured a mother who looked just like me, a father who’d rush in and wrap me up in his arms. I’d imagined it so vividly that I sometimes thought the hazy images were memories fighting their way through the fog. Now I’m finding out the family I’d pictured in my mind didn’t exist. No one was ever coming for me.
All these years, I have wondered about the life I might have had. I’ve strived to be the best version of myself, because surely I had great parents somewhere who raised me to be a strong, kind woman. But to discover that my life was always a fight to survive . . . shit. It broke my heart. The grand life I’d imagined for myself was reduced to ash, but on the bright side, look what I’ve managed to achieve by myself.
I got myself through college, working like a slave, graduated and found a job. Got myself a beautiful apartment to call home, even though cramped doesn’t even begin to explain it, and I’ve kept myself alive. I even joined a gym last year . . . not that I actually go.
I need to get back to that.
I don’t know what’s going to come from this fucked-up little adventure with Stone, but this isn’t my life anymore. Sooner or later, he’s going to be caught and sent back to prison, and then I’ll focus on rebuilding, on trying to figure out who I really am, because right now, I have no idea who the real me even is anymore.
“You’re thinking too hard.” That low, mesmerizing tone rumbles from behind me.
I roll my eyes and ignore him, because honestly, why the hell not? It’s not as though he enjoys answering any of my questions. He can get a taste of his own medicine.
I keep walking, having no idea if I’m even leading us the right way, but I’m sure if I wasn’t, Captain Buzzkill behind me would mention it.
“Do you think the prison knows you’ve escaped yet?”
“No doubt,” he says. “It’s safe to assume they’re already performing preliminary radius searches, but it won’t take long before they expand it. Those sniffer dogs don’t fuck around. They’ll get my scent, but we’ve gotta be gone before that happens. Not to mention, they’ll quickly realize I’m not alone. Your body wouldn’t have been accounted for. They’ll know I’ve taken you.”
“Shit.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But they won’t be able to track me, right? They have nothing to get my scent.”
“You had a blazer at some point. That’s gone,” he murmurs. “Plus, you must have driven to the prison. Where’d you put your keys? In a handbag? Trust me, they’ll get your scent.”
“Fuck, I—”
“Shhhhhh.”
My back stiffens, and in an instant, Stone is pressed against me, his hands gripping my waist as though preparing to defend me.
“What is it?” I whisper, my eyes darting around the woods, hoping like fuck I’m not about to face down a sniper rifle.
His fingers tighten on my waist as my heart races, fear seeping through my veins. “You hear that?”
I listen closely, but I’m not getting anything other than the normal sounds I’m supposed to hear in a forest. Birds chirping. Leaves rustling. Frogs calling. Water trickling—wait. Water?
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “There’s water.”
“Mm-hmm.”
My head whips around, searching through the trees, trying to find which direction it’s coming from. “Where?”
“My guess, straight ahead.”
Relief pounds through my body, and I pick up my pace, all but racing toward the sound. It’s been way too long since I last drank water. My body is on the brink of giving in. Not to mention, I stink. No, stink isn’t even brutal enough. I reek. We both do. After crawling through the dead-rat museum, and then scrounging through old, moldy sewer lines for twenty miles, there are some smells no human should ever have to live with, and this is it. Though that wretched smell might just be enough to mask us from the sniffer dogs. I hope.