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)
Knowing that’s where Kent would be. Where Brinley would be.
Shots suddenly pelted the ground right at my side, darts that impaled the earth.
“Sniper on the roof,” I shouted, and I dropped into a roll, flinging myself under one of the truck trailers.
Concealed and on my back, I eased out enough so I could take a shot at the sniper who was frantically looking over the side for his next target.
He should have known the target was him.
I pulled the trigger, and his body spasmed as he was struck in the neck.
He toppled off the roof, asshole doing two flips as he plunged to the ground.
Body a mangled bow when he hit the cement beneath.
Shots were being fired everywhere.
Shouts and screams and commands echoing through the air.
Dread twisted through me. Fear that any one of my men might be among the anguished moans.
Trevan was tucked low, his back pressed to a shadowy side of the truck I was underneath.
“You good?” he wheezed.
“Yeah. We need to get inside that building.”
“Count of three, and I cover you,” he said.
He didn’t give me a chance to reject it. He simply pushed his hand low, ticking off his fingers.
One.
Two.
Three.
He swung out from behind the truck just as I rolled onto my feet, guns in both his hands firing in every direction while I kept low and ran for the side door.
It was the spot Cash had believed might be the easiest access point from the ground floor. He didn’t think we’d have the chance to make it to the roof and cut our way in the way he did when he came for Elena.
That position would only make us more vulnerable.
Movement suddenly whispered from my right, and I whirled.
A man dressed in all black emerged from the shadows.
Grin on his smug mouth as he lifted his gun like he thought he had me trapped.
Fucker didn’t have a chance before mine was going off.
The sneer on his face imploded, body blown back ten feet.
A gush of air rushed from my lungs, a fucking river of sweat pouring down my spine, my heart rate manic as I turned back to the door.
I crouched low as I pulled out the tools stuffed in my back pocket, my fingers adept as I quickly picked two locks.
I could feel the terror radiating out. The same sense I’d gotten all those years ago when I’d slipped into that vacant, decayed house.
The mayhem of that warm spirit calling out.
Brinley.
Brinley.
The last lock finally gave, and my lungs squeezed as I stood, body turned and ear pressed to the door like I might be able to hear any movement from within.
Anticipating a full ambush waiting on the other side.
I put my hand on the knob and slowly turned, and the door creaked as I carefully nudged it open.
Listening for any breath.
A heartbeat.
Only a buzz echoed in my ears, a whirring of stilled silence as I stepped inside while chaos continued to rage outside.
It was even darker here, and I cringed when the sole of my boot squeaked against the hard, slick floor.
The lights were cut, but I could ascertain the room was a storage area.
Boxes stacked high.
I knew this room, and I felt even more certain that Dereck had come through.
This matched the exact layout he’d given.
On the other side of it would be a hall.
A hall that would lead to the inner sanctum of the building where Kent spent most of his time.
His living space.
His office.
Farther down were dingy rooms where he kept his captives.
Where Elena had been held hostage.
Manipulated and trapped.
I carefully crept through the maze, my heart in my throat, my skin drenched by the fear and determination that seeped from my pores.
I fumbled my way along a wall, and I slid my palms over the surface until I finally found the door.
I paused, listened, felt.
Let the extra senses that had kept me alive for all these years bleed out.
A groan of something, a shift of feet.
Someone was there.
I tucked a gun into its holster and pulled my knife from its sleeve, and I locked the air in my lungs as I quietly unlatched the door and slipped out into the dusk of the hall.
A man was ten feet ahead and facing away.
I stole forward, and I had his chin in my hand and the knife dragging across his throat before he even knew I was there.
Blood spurted onto my arm, and I carefully laid his limp body on the ground before I stepped over the pile of garbage and continued to edge down what felt like an endless hall.
Footsteps contained. Blood pumping a rabid, ruthless beat.
Finally, I made it close to its end. Two armed men stood outside the door, one on his phone facing the wood and the other shifted toward me, though his head was angled, clearly trying to listen to the other’s conversation.