Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 129681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
He went down.
Pandemonium.
Inside and out.
Shouting.
Jud fired.
Kolin froze then fell flat on his face.
Gone.
Jud had hit Tony in the thigh. He cried out in misery as he dropped to the ground.
Jud ran for Marcello who crawled along the ground on his belly like the serpent that he was.
“Don’t move, asshole.”
Marcello flopped around, leaning up on his hands as Jud stood over him. The barrel of Jud’s gun was pointed down at the monster who was there to enact the unthinkable.
The unforgiveable.
Surprise knocked Jud off balance when Tony suddenly rammed into him from the side. He fumbled, fell to the lawn, his gun sliding just out of reach.
With his gun in one hand, Marcello scrambled to get on top of Jud.
Jud fought him for it, squeezing his wrist to knock it loose.
Tony was back on his feet, and he kicked Jud in the ribs. Pain splintered through his side. He gasped out but managed to knock the handgun from Marcello’s hand while Tony continued his assault.
Kick after kick.
Pain lanced through Jud’s body, but he refused to give. To let either of them see this through.
He tossed Marcello off, and he grabbed Tony’s ankle and twisted it hard when Tony went to kick him again. The man screamed in agony, falling back at the same time Marcello managed to get to his feet to scramble for his gun that Jud had tossed aside.
Jud kicked out, sweeping Marcello at the ankles and dropping him flat to his back.
Jud jumped up, darting for his gun and sweeping it off the lawn.
He fired a shot at Tony who was lumbering to his feet.
Blood splatted as the impact flew him back, another monster in the ground.
Both Marcello’s soldiers were slain, and it was just Jud and this piece of shit.
A piece of shit Jud was going to be all too happy to rid the world of.
Marcello was on his ass, and he pressed back on his heels, scooting himself backward. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”
Jud sneered as he encroached, his aim clear. “Pretty sure that’s you.”
A shout and cry echoed from inside.
It distracted Jud for the barest second—a second that allowed Marcello to flick a lighter and get to his feet.
“He’ll assume it was you.” The words were vile. Cruel and careless and without mercy. “You won’t walk away from this.”
Marcello went to toss it, and Jud rushed. He knocked Marcello back to the ground, had his foot on his throat with the barrel aimed at his face. “Don’t.”
Marcello cracked a grin. Tossed the lighter behind him.
The demon writhed.
There was no remorse when he pulled the trigger.
When blood splattered and his body slumped and Marcello no longer existed.
But it was too late.
The cans caught.
A whoosh.
A flame.
An explosion.
Heat blasted across Jud’s face as the inferno sparked to life in an instant.
“No!” he shouted.
He dropped his gun beside Marcello’s lifeless body and ran for the flames.
They had already consumed the back wall, eating up the wood and lapping at the ceiling.
Smoke billowed. A heavy darkness that filled the air and choked out hope.
Consuming.
Disorienting.
A black plague that annihilated everything in its path.
Still, he broke through the back door, searched, fumbled through the abyss from one room to the next.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Fear crushed, as suffocating as the smoke that filled his lungs. He pulled his shirt over his face, his eyes wide and unseeing, the world a blur of fire and white-hot pain.
It didn’t matter.
He pressed on.
Pushed.
Forever passed.
A second.
A moment.
Misery the time that ticked on the clock.
A roar rose from the depths of him. “Where are you? Please. Fuck. Can you hear me?”
The whooshing of the flames screamed back.
No, this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.
He pressed deeper into the smoke-filled house.
He was on his knees. Blind as he searched.
A bed.
No.
A crib.
He felt along the spindles.
He gulped when he felt it. When he knew. When he curled his arms around the limp body.
So light. So small.
He took it into his arms, pushed to his feet, and stumbled through the flames.
Searching for a way out.
A window.
He lifted his boot, kicked it, busted through.
Glass shattered and rained and tore his flesh. But he didn’t slow. He lumbered out into the night.
Refusing the pain.
Refusing the agony.
The fire raged behind them, and he ran to the edge of the yard.
Cradling the tiny frame, he dropped to his knees and gently set it on the ground.
The boy child.
His arms shook.
Shook and shook.
While the flames roared and wood crumbled and the structure gave.
No hope for life from within.
Torment wailed.
As loud as the sirens he heard coming in the distance.
Frantic, he breathed against the child’s mouth. Breathed and breathed. His hands too big and clumsy against his tiny chest.
Tears blurred, burning down his ash-covered face.
No. Please. No.
Heavy engines roared up the street, sirens blaring, flashes of light in the night.
“This way! Help! Please!” He shouted it when he saw a paramedic round the side, when the man came up short at the bodies strewn across the ground.