Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Using their senses to guide them, shrouding themselves in every darkened swath.
They took a maze of rights and lefts, a short stretch of freeway before they were exiting and were dumped in a more run-down part of town.
They stayed far enough back that they were never noticed.
Phoenix’s stalking skills were more than stellar.
A fucking ghost that emerged behind someone who had no clue they were about to find out if the afterlife existed.
Hell ready to swallow them.
The SUV finally made a left into a neighborhood, and they stayed far back, cutting glances at each other.
A warning that this was it.
But they had to be cautious. Not charge when they were itching to do it. Because they had no idea what circumstances they were going to find themselves in.
They waited close to a minute before they took the left into the same neighborhood and hid their motorcycles behind the first hedge they could find.
They killed the engines.
Overwhelming silence swamped the cold, misty air, and only the trill of bugs and a dog barking somewhere in the distance filled their ears.
They crouched low, motorcycle boots quietly thudding as they stuck to the shadows as they moved up the road.
A road that branched off in every direction.
Two inlets running left and right and another straight ahead.
Phoenix lifted his face, a wolf trying to pick up the scent.
“Left,” he finally grunted. No question, he was following his warped, gnarled gut.
They dipped across the road, quick to disappear into the shadows.
Creeping behind houses and cars and trees.
Searching.
Hunting.
The two guns tucked into Silas’s jeans loaded with liberation.
The street seemed to go on forever in a blurry expanse before it curved to the right, running straight back up the neighborhood.
Ducked low, they hurried up the road through the whisking fog.
Listening.
Feeling.
Watching.
“You sure this was the right way?” Silas grunted on a breath.
“They’re here somewhere,” Phoenix snarled.
They moved up and down the streets where they branched out.
Silas could feel distress and despondency bleeding out from the homes just as his hope started to dwindle.
“Where the fuck are they?” he wheezed.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. He was supposed to finally have them.
Vengeance at hand.
“They’re close. But even if we don’t catch up to them tonight, we’ll get them soon,” Phoenix rumbled.
But Silas couldn’t rest in that.
He prowled through the neighborhood.
A pillager with a single thirst.
One crown he wanted to wear.
Until they finally moved up the very last street on the farthest right side of the neighborhood.
There was a house on the east side of the road.
Surrounded by milky filament.
The yard was overgrown, and the paint on the eaves was peeling from neglect.
A ratty, dinged-up sedan sat at the curb.
The SUV was nowhere to be found.
But there was no mistaking it. No question that the fuckers were behind that door.
His jaw spasmed as his teeth snapped, and he inhaled an unsteady breath as he and Phoenix slowed, hiding themselves behind a row of bushes on the opposite side of the road.
“They’re here,” Silas muttered, the words clanking out of him like broken bits of steel. “I can feel it.”
Phoenix looked in every direction, a frown carved across his prominent brow. “Yeah, air is fucking rancid.”
It was more than that.
In it was fear.
Horror.
A terror unlike anything Silas had ever encountered, and he’d been witness and partner to a thousand wicked deeds.
And this was the last deed he needed to commit to fulfill his oath of vengeance, and he honestly hoped he would die completing it.
He was ready to put an end to the maliciousness. To the wickedness that reigned in his heart.
Kent Ellison had no clue he was coming for him. He likely didn’t even know his name. Or if he had once upon a time, there was little chance he’d remember it.
Silas and his mother were inconsequential.
It didn’t matter.
He just wanted blood, then he’d call it done.
“Go around the left side of the house, find a window you can get through. I’ll go in on the right.” Silas’s instruction curled through the crawling night. “Be fucking careful.”
“You, too, brother. It’s time.” He could feel the intensity of Phoenix’s stare burning into his cheek.
Silas gave him a clipped nod, and they broke apart, both stealing across the deserted road.
A thick fog covered them, the night deepened by the gloom.
The closer he got, the more he felt it.
Agony.
Agony.
Ignoring it, he gripped onto his purpose.
It wasn’t so hard to find a way inside. Half the windows had been broken, anyway. He found one near the back where the glass was completely missing except for a single shard still clinging to the top of the frame.
Angling to the side, he slipped through, the leather of his cut protecting him from the razor-sharp tip he felt drag across his Iron Owls patch.
He remained crouched as his boots hit the trash-strewn floor, and he checked his breaths, ensuring that he didn’t make a sound.