Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“In that case, we should move immediately.” The man backed up, allowing another masked shadow to come forward. “Please put on the bulletproof vest.”
Lucien’s eyebrows arched as a black duffel bag was tossed at his feet. Dropping to his haunches, he unzipped it and pulled out a black knit sweater, along with a stiff-looking vest. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he quickly shrugged into the sweater—kindly hiding his distractingly gorgeous body—before snatching the vest and tossing it at me.
“Put it on,” he said flatly.
I fumbled with the weight of it, almost dropping my phone. “What?”
“Mr. Ashfall,” the man muttered. “It’s your safety we need to prioritise. You need to wear—”
“Put it on, Rook.” He ignored the man and stepped toward me. Grabbing the huge, heavy thing, he slung it around my shoulders and yanked my arms through the sides like I was a stubborn child.
The men wisely didn’t say a word.
“But what if you get hurt?” I argued as he zipped me up and velcroed the sides so tight I could barely breathe.
“Doesn’t matter.” His heat scorched me as he stepped back and inspected me.
I probably looked horrendous with my rain-crinkled black dress and matching Kevlar, but the way he studied me sent a wave of fire directly between my legs. “Of course it matters—”
“No. It doesn’t,” he cut me off. “We both know I’m...unusual. I seem to heal faster than most, but you? You don’t.”
“How do you know I don’t?” My hackles rose a little. “I could be like you. I could—”
“You could.” His gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unblinking. “But I’m not willing to take that chance.”
My throat tightened.
Did he mean to sound so threatening or so scarily...romantic?
Because it was working.
“I can’t let you get hurt. You’re the only thing keeping me from burning alive.” His jaw flexed as his gaze locked onto my mouth. “Without you, I might not survive long enough to get my revenge so...you’re never leaving my sight, and if that means I have to strap you into a hundred ballistic vests and toss you into an armoured box to keep you safe, I’ll do it.”
Whisper huffed as if he agreed.
“If you’re ready?” The closest man checked his watch, the digits glowing red in the night. “The plane is waiting for us.”
“Plane?” I squeaked. “What plane? What about Dillon?”
“Your bodyguard is too late.” Fisting my hand, Lucien jerked me behind him. “Lead the way.”
“You don’t sound unhappy about this,” I snipped, my fingers tingling in his.
“I’m not.” He smiled smugly. “I did warn him he had a couple of hours to find you. He failed.” Ducking a little, he whispered into my ear. “And now, you’re all mine.”
Two men slipped around us, taking up position at our rear.
The two men in front turned to retrace their steps. “Please heed all our orders, and we’ll get you back to the mountains safely.”
My stomach twisted as Lucien jerked me into motion.
I had no say as I was dragged down the stairs and hurried into the chilly night. With Whisper flanking me and Lucien pulling me, I gingerly stepped over the bodies of either dead or unconscious Cinderkeep guards.
Mist ribboned around the hedgerows, sending out ghostly fingers across the grass.
I suddenly understood why this bed and breakfast was named Misty Meadows.
A convoy of black vans appeared from the night, and I wondered—just for a second—if I should run before Lucien could trap me somewhere new.
Because wherever we were going, I doubted Dillon would find me.
Corpses and empty rooms. Blood-soaked towels and my forgotten tatty rucksack.
He’d think I was dead.
And I might end up that way if he ever hunted me down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE SLEEK SILVER PLANE LOOKED FAR smaller than the one I’d flown in when Marcus dragged me to England. Back then, as a nine-year-old, everything had seemed so huge—
“That concludes the extraction part of our service, sir,” the masked man—who hadn’t shown us his face, even in the one-hour car ride—pointed at the plane and awaiting airhostess by the open stairs. “The crew works for Sovereign Retrieval. You’ll be perfectly safe. A helicopter will take you the rest of the way when you arrive.” Backing up, he added, “Is there anything else you require before we depart?”
I tried to answer him but...the outside world was too much. Too bright. Too noisy.
Having twenty men surrounding me set my system on a razor-sharp edge.
The entire drive, Rook had been in the backseat with Whisper, while I’d been up front, which meant I hadn’t been able to touch her.
And the burning was getting bad.
Even now—even on the cusp of vanishing from Marcus’s control forever—I was still fucking weak...just like he’d made me.
Something feral snarled inside.
What if I got on that plane and they flew me back to hell?
What if they betrayed me like everyone else?
“Lucien.”
I flinched as Rook’s dainty hand slipped into mine, wrenching me back onto the private airstrip in the dead of night.