Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
He’s been off from the jump. Too invested in her. Too everywhere when it comes to her.
I tap Silas’s name on my nav screen. “Update?” he asks, getting straight to business.
“Clint, the bartender from The Creek is with her.”
“Are you en route?”
“I am.”
“Good. The shoes were a bust. Bagged in a dumpster on the edge of town.”
“Feel like I’m gonna puke,” I mumble as my vision swims, the road blurring before me.
“Get it together, Wilder,” Silas snaps. “Send me the address you’re heading to.”
“Yeah, okay.” I take a deep breath before grabbing my phone to share the location with him. “Just sent it your way.”
“You’ll make it first, but we won’t be too far behind.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, okay.”
“Stay alert,” he orders, the sound of his bike roaring to life as he ends the call.
Within minutes, my phone starts alarming with a sound I’ve never heard before.
“Please, please, please,” I beg as I pull to the shoulder, popping on my flashers and grabbing my phone once I come to a stop.
Sure enough, it’s the panic feature on Scarlet’s necklace. She still has it, and she’s alert enough to send the ping.
I give myself two seconds to freak the fuck out before locking in and pulling back into traffic. “Hang tight, Princess. I’m on my way.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
SCARLET
“Where are they?” Clint roars, kicking the rickety chair he called a loveseat hard enough to send it flying into the metal wall.
“What are you l-looking for?” I wheeze, covering my head as wood splinters fly through the air.
He glares at me, waiting silently for me to amend my question.
“What are you looking for, Sweetheart?” The pet name tastes like acid on my tongue, burning with a wrongness I’ll remember the rest of my life. Assuming I survive this. No, don’t think like that. You will survive. Ellis will come.
Appeased, he resumes his pacing. “Our rings, Petal. How can I make you my bride without a ring?”
“You bought me a r-ring?”
“Bought?” He inclines his head. “No, no, no. I didn’t buy your ring. It’s a family heirloom. Passed down from my great grandmother.”
“Oh,” I choke on the single syllable, wondering if his mother knows he took it for an unwilling bride. “Wow.”
“It’s beautiful. You’ll love it.” He flips the desk with a hotplate he called a kitchen. “I just need to find it.” He starts pacing again, roughly tapping his temple. “Think, think, think. Where did you put it?”
A bead of sweat rolls down my back, causing me to whimper. It might be cool outside, but in this metal box of horrors, it’s sweltering. The weight of the god-awful dress he has me in doesn’t help either. It will be a cold day in hell before I ever touch tulle again.
Where are you, Ellis? I clutch my necklace, watching in frozen horror as Clint tears the place apart like a man possessed.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken out loud until he’s in my face, shouting, spittle flying. “Where is who?”
“No one,” I try, but he snarls, roughly gripping shoulders, causing me to cry out in pain.
“Who are you looking for, Scarlet?” He shakes me like a rag doll, my head snapping back from the force. “Is it him?” he spits.
“H-him who?” I stutter, my ears ringing.
“Ellis. Fucking. Wilder.” His lips curl like an angry dog. “Should’ve fucking killed him.” He throws me to the grimy, dirt-covered floor. “What do you even see in him? What can he possibly give you that I can't? What's so good about him?” Each shouted question is louder than the last, until he’s red in the face and practically vibrating with rage.
“You’re mine, Scarlet. Not his. Mine.” He thumps his chest for emphasis.
I don't know what comes over me, but it's like a haze of reciprocal rage settles over me. “I’m not yours and I never will be. Ellis is twice the man you could ever dream of being.”
A flash of movement in my periphery is all the warning I get before Clint backhands me, sending my head crashing into the wall. A trickle of blood drips down my lip, spreading in a macabre pattern as it lands on the dress.
“You...” I stare at him in horror. “You hit me.”
The psycho actually looks proud. “That'll teach you to run your fucking mouth.”
The fear clinging to me since I woke up here takes a backseat to an all-consuming rage. “How can you claim to love me and actively hurt me?”
He purses his lips and mocks me. “How can you claim to love me and actively hurt me? Do you even hear yourself, Scarlet? Pathetic. A woman like you needs a strong hand. You should really count yourself lucky that I’m such a patient, forgiving man.” He runs the pads of his fingers along my jaw before fisting my hair, tugging hard so I have no choice but to look at him.