Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Grab the rope,” I say, already scanning the workbench. “Zip ties there.” I point to where I spot them on the bench, keeping a foot on Joey’s head.
Grant moves fast, grabbing them. We roll Joey onto his stomach, wrench his arms behind his back, and bind his wrists. We do his feet next.
“That’ll do,” I say, standing up. My knuckles are split and bleeding, but I barely feel it. “Let’s move.”
We jog for the open bay door, boots pounding concrete.
“Madeline!” I shout the second I clear it.
“We’re here!” Her voice comes from the tree line, shaky but strong. She’s got Emily propped between her and Georgia.
Relief floods through me—they’re safe. My thoughts cut off as my brain catches up to what I see to my left. All the lights in the cabin are now on. I stop running as the door opens and Joey’s dad steps out, shotgun raised like he’s been waiting this whole time.
“Well,” he says, his voice carrying. “Looks like we got ourselves a situation.”
I step into the path, blocking his line of sight of the girls, wanting to shield them any way that I can. I should have cleared the fucking house. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I keep my voice steady but calm.
“Mr. Parker,” I say. “Put the gun down. It’s over.”
He smiles, and it’s the same cold smile I saw on Joey’s face minutes ago. The family resemblance has never been stronger.
“Son,” he says, racking the shotgun. The sound echoes in the quiet night. “It isn’t over till I say it’s over.”
“Well, your boy’s in there bleeding out,” I say, nodding to the garage.
His smile falters. His eyes flick toward the garage, then back to me. The shotgun barrel dips, just an inch.
He steps down off the porch, gravel crunching under his boots. I shift, making sure I’m fully in front of the girls. “If you hurt my boy, I won’t let you off with an easy bullet to the head, like I’d been planning.”
“I mean, he’s breathing.” I shrug. “For now.”
Joe Sr. takes another step toward me, then another. The shotgun is still raised, but his focus is narrowing right where I want it. I swear I can feel Madeline’s radiating fear behind me, but I don’t turn around. I can’t. All that matters right now is keeping her alive. Putting myself in the line of fire in front of her is the only way to guarantee that.
“Or I could just fucking shoot all of you and then go check on my son.”
“If you shoot us, there’s no coming back from that. One body, sure, but your son’s mess is too big to clean up at this point, and you only have yourself to blame for that.” He made that monster, and I’m starting to see that my shitty father did the same to me. Glad I won’t be turning out like these two fuckwits.
“You Kingmakers think you’re so smart.” He steps closer now—ten feet, then eight. Now close enough that I can see the gray in his beard and the tired lines around his eyes.
“Put the gun down,” I order, making his eyes flare. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d take too kindly to me issuing him an order.
“Fuck you,” he responds, lifting the barrel again.
Grant blindsides him from the side like a freight train.
The shotgun goes off—a deafening crack that cuts through the night. I feel the heat of it whistle past my cheek and the sting of powder and torn skin. I throw myself backward, covering Madeline with my body, shielding her with everything I have.
We hit the ground hard, her breath knocked out in a gasp. My ears are ringing, but I can hear Grant grunting, the scuffle of boots on gravel, and Joe Sr. cursing as Grant wrestles the gun away.
“Clear!” Grant shouts as he comes back to his feet, gun pointed down at Joe Sr.
I roll off Madeline, checking to make sure she’s okay. My hands are everywhere, but I don’t see any wounds.
“Luke.” Her fingers come to my cheek. When she pulls it back, I see the tips covered in blood.
“Just a graze,” I tell her so she doesn’t freak out. “Another scar to add to the collection,” I say, downplaying it. Not that it works.
“Luke!” Madeline’s hands are on my face, her eyes wild. “You’re bleeding, you’re—”
“I’m fine,” I say, but she’s already pulling me up, checking me over with frantic hands like I did to her. I let her have at it. You’ll never hear me complain about her fussing over me and giving me all of her attention.
“We need to call the cops,” Georgia says, her voice shaking. “Someone should—”
“Already done.” I hold up my phone, the screen glowing with my brother’s name on it. The call shows it’s been connected for over ten minutes now. “The cops are on their way.”