Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
He’s trying to break me, but how can he break someone who’s already completely shattered? I’m numb. My heart is so broken that I don’t even flinch when his fists slam against my ribs. I don’t cry out when the force of his punch bloodies my skin. I don’t even try to get away because this is exactly what I deserve.
I couldn’t save her.
Izzy’s dead because I couldn’t wait for Knight, because I was so filled with fear that I refused to listen to reason and leave this to the professionals. I put her in that situation, and now she’s gone. And as for the twins . . . fuck. I don’t even know. All I can hope for is that Knight and his team managed to make it to the twins before Mom was able to cause them any harm, but after what they’d already witnessed in the living room, their lives have forever been altered. There’s no seeing death like that and simply being okay, even at four years old, when you don’t really understand what’s going on.
Jonah should never forgive me. He handed over his children, and on my watch, they were abducted and traumatized. I gave him my word that they would be safe with me. I only hope that once Elias is finished with me, he ends my life, because how could I ever come back from this? How could I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror? How could I ever face those girls knowing that my carelessness could have gotten them killed?
An old oil lamp flickers on the bedside table as I lie in a forgotten heap on the floor of the dirty cabin, my wrists and ankles ache, and the rest of my body screams for relief.
Tears well in my eyes, and as more loud BANGs sound from outside the cabin, my heart races. Were those gunshots? I’m not sure. It could be anything. The sounds are so loud I feel them right through my chest. They have to be gunshots. What else could it be?
Fear sinks heavily into my gut. I figured it was just me and Elias on this ship, but for there to be that much gunfire, he must have a whole damn team. But why? What is their purpose? Are they here in anticipation of Knight’s team coming to get me? Are they here to slaughter them one by one? Or does Elias just need a cheer squad to tell him he’s a fucking hero every time he beats me?
Fuck. Elias has his fingers in so many cookie jars that it could honestly be anything. I’m just one person. He could have stashed me anywhere. Why go to the effort to get a big-ass ship just for me? There has to be something more to this. Is he transporting something, smuggling drugs? Women? Using it as a drug lab? Who fucking knows.
As the gunfire seems to ramp up, my panic soars.
Is this Knight’s team causing all that havoc? Has he figured out Elias’s sick plan and come to get me? Or is it nothing more than unrest between Elias’s hired muscle?
Shit. If it’s the SWAT team, then I need to do everything I can to help them locate me. I need to get my ass out of here and into the arms of one of Knight’s men. But if it’s not, and this is a wild shootout between Elias’s fucked-up men, then heading out there is going to do nothing but get me in more trouble than what I’m already in.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The one thing I know for sure is that if I don’t try to help myself, I’m fucked either way.
Reaching down to my bound ankles, I pick at the industrial tape, doing what little I can to roll it away from my skin, but it’s impossible. My nails aren’t strong enough, and my body is already so weak from Elias’s beatings.
Tears well in my eyes as the desperation consumes me, and just as I start making some progress, the door bangs open and Elias appears. His face is barely lit up by the small oil lamp on the bedside table.
I shake my head, already able to see the look in his eyes. This is different from the last few times he’s come to visit me. There’s a finality in his eyes. A wicked evilness. He’s come to take everything from me, and he’s not going to stop until he gets exactly what he wants.
He kicks the door closed behind him and locks it before turning that vile stare on me again.
He doesn’t wait or bother with bullshit conversation or threats; he just comes for me as though he’s running out of time.
I try to kick out, but with my ankles and wrists bound, my attempts prove futile.