Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Look, I don't know any easier way to say this since Hella sprung the thing on us in a short space, but we killed Eddy Woolbrock.”
I gasp, eyes snapping to him. “What!”
Beast stretches his neck as if he's prepped for this moment. “Yeah. Fuck, I know, but listen.”
“Beast!” I grit, fingers biting into my fists. “You have no idea what he's just done. Caused.”
“Wait.” Beast hesitates. “What do you mean? I was about to tell you about Richard, but now I’m getting the vibe that you already knew?”
The world closes in around me as my breathing becomes ragged. No. No. No.
My chest tightens, a vise clamping down hard, squeezing the air from my lungs. The world tilts, and Beast's voice fades into the distance.
My hands tremble, fingers numb as they claw at my throat, desperate for breath that won't come. Sweat beads on my forehead, cold despite the scorching sun, and my knees wobble, threatening to give out.
I stumble back a step, gravel crunching underfoot, pulse a frantic drum in my ears. Flashes of that night—Eddy's smirk, the suffocating weight of his hands, high-pitched laughter—crash over me, drowning out the present.
I can't escape it.
“No, no, no,” I choke out, voice a broken whisper, barely audible over the roar in my head.
Beast's hands hover near me, not touching, his face a blur of concern. “Melissa, breathe. Look at me.”
My chest heaves, each breath a damn death sentence.
“I failed,” I manage to choke out, falling to the ground while gripping Beast's cut. Someone screams. Him, I think. Or maybe it's me.
Millie steps out of the clubhouse, her pale face scrunched in confusion. She's holding a plate of sandwiches, calm and unshaken until her gaze lands on the small girl clinging to Hella.
The plate slips from her grip. It hits the ground with a shattering crash, ceramic splintering across the gravel, sandwiches tumbling into the dirt. The sound cuts through everything—through my hammering pulse, through the kid's whimpers, through whatever bullshit excuse I was about to manufacture.
Millie freezes. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp, hands hovering midair like she's seen a ghost. Her stare doesn't waver from the child. Not once. Not even to acknowledge the mess at her feet or the rest of us standing here like we've been caught mid-crime.
It's not surprise. It's not even shock.
It's knowing.
And that hits me like a fist to the gut, making my already fucked situation infinitely worse. Millie doesn't just recognize a random traumatized child.
She recognizes this child.
Who is this girl? Why does Millie look like her world just shattered too? Why—
I suck in a deep breath, focus snapping up to Beast, since Hella is still with the child. “What did you just say?”
“Fuck,” he growls, swiping sweat off his forehead. “I said he killed Eddy, fucking Richard. The girl, we found beneath his house in a bunker. Shitty parents those two were, sure, but other than the obvious of her needing a bath, she seems taken care of.”
Everything shifts into place like a puzzle, my feet moving.
She ducks behind Hella again, and he stares down at me, then back at her.
“Hux, she's mine.” The words stumble out of my mouth.
“What?”
He uses his body as a barrier between me and the girl, phone pressed to his ear. He slowly drops it to his side. “What'd you say?”
I swipe my nose with the back of my hand. “The girl.” His face blurs. “I—After Eddy, I—” Bile. Vomit. “—the pill didn’t work. She's my daughter.”
Thirty-One
Melissa
Ican't meet Hella's eyes. The sun beats down mercilessly, and sweat trickles down my neck, but I'm frozen in place, my confession hanging in the heavy air between us. My daughter peeks out from behind his leg, those familiar green eyes watching me with a wariness that is one hundred percent warranted.
“Start talking.” Hella's voice cuts through the silence. “Now.”
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together. “Richard...” The name sticks in my throat like poison. “Eddy. Whatever name he used. He found me. Said he knew about her. About my pregnancy.” My eyes flick to the little girl, who's pressed herself closer to Hella's leg. “He had pictures of me, pregnant, at the nunnery, after the birth.”
“Keep going.” The muscle in Hella's jaw twitches, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
“He made an offer. Said he'd make sure she was safe, give her to Millie along with the bakery. All I had to do was...” My voice breaks, and I have to force the rest out. “All I had to do was die.”
Hella's face goes dangerously still. “What?”
“He wanted to kill me himself.” I wince. Saying the words out loud makes them feel real. “That's why I came back. To say goodbye. To make sure everything was set up for Millie, for the bakery, for...” I gesture helplessly at my daughter, who's watching this exchange with wide, scared eyes. “For her.”