Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
And if nobody stopped?
Then maybe I could find another kind of escape.
I’d step off the curb at the corner. Let myself get pulled under a pair of wheels or flung into the air. It would only hurt for a second, right? And then... nothing. A little pain for peace? Or a lifetime of misery?
I shake my head and shiver. What the hell am I thinking?
I’m numb by the time I turn and shut out those dark, tempting thoughts. I’m not giving up yet. I won’t let him beat me. I won’t let any of them beat me.
Somehow, I’ll find a way to win this war I’ve been dragged into.
Even if it kills me.
Chapter 14
Kade
Ican’t fucking do this.
I wouldn’t be sitting here in the dining room for the first time since that night if Sawyer hadn’t guilt-tripped me into it.
“You can’t keep yourself locked up forever. Besides,” he added as he folded his arms, “we’re still a family. We need you. Need to be united. To show strength in numbers. We all miss having you around. You don’t even come out to check the fence lines anymore.”
I wanted to tell him he sounded like Dad without the menace, but I didn’t think that would go over well.
“I don’t know how having dinner together means we’re united, or some shit,” I told him.
It all feels so damn empty.
It still does as I sit here, grinding my teeth, listening to Saint babble about something I really couldn’t give two shits about.
Of course, Calder hangs on her every word. He can’t take his eyes off her. He keeps touching her, too—stroking her golden hair and holding her hand. If he cuts her steak for her, I’m fucking out of here.
At least they’re a distraction. If I’m focusing on not puking, I don’t have to keep reminding myself not to look at the floor, which I know is still stained under the fresh rug.
So much blood.
“Everything is almost ready,” Elena calls as she sails into the dining room from checking dinner in the kitchen. “I think we’re in for a treat tonight.”
I keep my face set, but try to figure out what the fuck is happening. She’s kept to herself these past couple of weeks the same way I have, the way she always has, and it’s been a relief. Does that make me a coward? Because I didn’t want to see her, because she was a reminder of what I did. Or the reminder of how she spent my whole life letting me believe I was hers.
Did all that pretending get tiresome? When I was a prick—which I was, not that I’m proud of it—she could have thrown the truth in my face.
She could’ve told me everything. Every time she looked at me, she had to remember her husband fucked another woman, then brought her baby home. Not to mention every time she saw Emma in town. I can’t imagine the strength it took to endure that.
“That is such a pretty dress,” Saint gushes as Elena takes a seat.
Elena smiles, actually fucking smiles.
When’s the last time I saw her smile?
“Thank you. It’s been in my closet for so long, I forgot it was there.” Her cheeks pinken a little at the attention turned her way.
“You look great, Mom.” It’s the first thing Levi has said since he sat down.
I agree. She does, better than I remember ever seeing her. It’s obvious as to why. Now that he’s gone, she can be her own person. Nobody tells her what to wear, what to say, or how to act. It’s like I did her a favor when I pulled the trigger. Like I did us all a favor.
My chest tightens, and the walls of the room feel like they’re closing in around me. I shove myself back from the table, and the legs of the chair scrape off the edge of the rug and onto the hardwood. I can’t be in this room right now. It’s too fucking much.
Saint whispers something to Calder, but he shushes her gently. At least he knows there’s no point in asking what’s wrong. They already know.
I can’t stand the feeling of them being able to see through me so easily. How weak and twisted up I am while they sit and laugh and talk about shit that doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters. How can we all sit around and pretend I didn’t murder our father in this room? Pretend that everything didn’t come crashing down on us?
I escape the room and walk aimlessly. I don’t plan on hiding in the study. My feet take me there, and I stop as soon as I realize where I am. What the hell am I doing here? I stand in the doorway, staring at the chair where he used to sit.
His throne. Where he decided how his kingdom would run.