Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Her chest tightened. “So you’re sure that someone did this deliberately.”
“Fairly.” His expression hardened, his voice like steel. “Either this virus is designed to kill us, or it’s meant to weaken us for an attack—the night before our summit.”
Her breath caught as his grim words settled like stones in her stomach. She glanced toward the women in the main room, their pale faces showing resolve despite the tension. “What do we do?”
“We stay ready,” he said, his voice sharp with command. “I’ve got guards posted at every door. If someone gets too sick, they’re replaced. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we can do right now.”
She nodded, her heart pounding. “All right. We’ve only been eating unopened packaged food. I guess we can eat the perishables.”
“No. Just in case, don’t eat anything that has been opened,” Vero said, his tone softening. “Stay inside. The guards may not be perfect, but they’re stationed everywhere.” He rubbed his knuckles across her cheekbone, making her skin tingle. “I need to check on the outlying families and will return soon.” His phone buzzed and he looked down at the face before lifting it to his ear, turning, and walking toward the door. “Hi, Paxton. Tell me the Realm is in place.”
Lyrica watched him step outside and then shook herself. Her outward composure remained steady, though her mind raced. She moved through the room, spending time trying to reassure many of the women. Reaching the kitchen, she looked back at Silas across the room, who appeared ready to fall to his butt again. “I’ll get more water.”
He nodded, his eyes glassy.
She opened the door to the warm space and headed toward the pantry, her thoughts circling back to Vero’s words. If this virus truly targeted Kurjans, it meant someone had declared war—on the entire nation.
The aroma of the pecan pastries created earlier by the chef before he’d taken ill lingered in the air, their sweet scent clinging despite the tension surrounding the lodge. Lyrica’s stomach growled. She’d already thrown out the treats just in case.
The sudden creak of the side door startled her. She turned as Jonathan stumbled in, his movements shaky and erratic.
“Jonathan, you look terrible.” She grabbed one of the chairs by the tall counter and pushed it toward him. “Sit down.”
“No.” His voice rasped as he grabbed her arm, his grip stronger than expected. “We have to go. Now.”
She pulled against his hold, noting the pale cast of his skin and the unnatural glow of blue veins beneath the surface. “You’re feverish. Have you been to see the doctor?”
“Come on,” he insisted, his body trembling as he tried to pull her toward the door. “We’re leaving now.”
“No,” she said firmly, planting her feet. “You’re not thinking clearly. Stop.”
He groaned and wiped a hand down his face, looking at her with desperation in his fevered eyes. “You don’t understand,” he muttered.
Reaching up, she touched his forehead, the heat radiating from him burning her palm. She yanked her hand back. “Holy crap, you’re burning up.”
Jonathan’s chest heaved as he grabbed her with more force. “I’m not going to argue with you,” he said, his voice rough and breaking. He lifted her, groaning as he carried her toward the door.
She screamed. A crash sounded from the other room. Had Silas just fallen?
Panic spiked through her, making her struggle harder. Jonathan’s hands only touched her shirt, so he wasn’t risking the allergy. “Jonathan, what are you doing? Put me down.”
The icy wind slapped her face as he pushed through the door and into the frigid air. Snow had stopped falling, but the bitter wind burned with every gust. A UTV rumbled nearby, and she scanned the area frantically, her eyes widening at the sight of two guards lying unconscious in the snow. Dark streaks of blood painted the ground beneath them.
She sucked in air to scream, and he jerked her head back with enough force that she felt dizzy. His steps faltered, and his head shook. “Stop fighting me,” he sputtered, dragging her across the icy ground.
Her stomach twisted as realization hit. “Did you knock out those guards? Are you one of the Defenders?” she asked, her voice trembling with equal parts fury and fear.
He turned to her, his expression crumbling. This close she could see blood pooling above his ear. He’d fought the guards? “Just get in the UTV.”
Yanking open the door, he shoved her inside. She fought to push herself back out, but he reached across her, securing the seat belt tightly over her arms and chest. With a swift motion, he jammed a knife into the lever, preventing her from unbuckling it.
“Hold still,” he growled before slamming the door shut and stumbling around the vehicle to enter the driver’s side.
Her heart raced as she tugged against the seat belt, fury and terror battling for dominance. “Jonathan, I can’t believe this is you. You’re supposed to be a nice guy.”