Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I scoffed out a chuckle, shaking my head again in disbelief. “That just makes everything worse.”
“Kraven, I didn’t tell you to make you feel worse.”
“Anything with my mom ends up being worse, Isla. How have you not figured that out yet?”
“Hey.” She sadly smiled. “You called her Mom.”
I glanced down at our hands, deciding to bury our conversation. Moving on, I went back to her initial question. “You’re welcome to stay at the house for as long as you want.”
We locked eyes.
“You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“And what if Julius is gone for a whi—”
With no restraint, I blurted, “Is that an invitation?”
The hostess set our plates on the table, breaking the moment, and we pulled away.
“Here you go, you two. Enjoy.”
Isla thanked her and abruptly stood, revealing, “I’m going to go wash my hands.”
I couldn’t get a good read on her before I watched her leave, wondering what she was thinking about what I called out.
Did I take it too far? Did I push her away? Scare her?
I didn’t have answers.
All I had were questions…
* * *
And I was beginning to feel as if it was all I ever had.
Chapter
Forty-Eight
Isla
I walked into the bathroom, my mind spinning with the increasing pressure in my chest. Everything was unraveling, thread by thread. I couldn’t breathe, and it only got worse as I tried to slowly inhale and exhale.
Am I having a panic attack?
I didn’t have a chance to contemplate the thought, stopping dead in my tracks as soon as I stepped into the restroom. I was immediately slapped in the face with the familiar stench of booze, weed, cigarettes, and a shitty-ass perfume that lingered in the air.
My blood instantly ran cold while the hair on my arms stood at attention. It was like I was seeing a ghost, yet nothing was in front of me. Her smell was enough to make me want to vomit.
Mrs. Bates…
I gasped but then slapped my hands over my mouth, not wanting to make a sound.
“Goddammit!” she roared, making me back away slowly. “I forgot my cigarettes!”
When she flushed the toilet, I didn’t hesitate to run for my life. With one foot in front of the other, I got the hell out of there.
Once Kraven saw me, he shouted, “Isl—”
“Shhhhh!” I begged with my hands on my mouth, unable to stop my feet from moving.
“What’s going o—”
I didn’t stop.
I hauled ass out of that restaurant, seeking safety. Like a lion after his prey, Kraven chased me. Hunting me down, he was ready to destroy anyone who got in his path. His loud footsteps echoed behind me, yet I still didn’t stop for a second.
She couldn’t get me.
I wouldn’t let her.
Never again.
No. Matter. What.
“Isla!”
“No!” I yelled, sprinting down the uneven street as if my life depended on it, and it did.
“Isla, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
“No!”
“Christ, slow the fuck down!”
“No!”
“For fuck’s sake, just talk to me!”
“I can’t!”
And he was right. I ate shit, falling face-first onto the jagged road.
“Fuck!” he called out, darting to get to me. Sliding on his knees, he ignored the sting on his torn skin, pleading, “Kitty, Kitty, Kitty,” as he carefully sat me up.
The blood on my hands and knees only reminded me of that day.
The day I killed Mr. Bates.
“Damn, are you okay?”
“Hmm…” I managed to get out.
I felt dizzy.
Faint.
Tired of running.
Tired of fighting.
Just fucking tired.
“It’s alright. I got you,” he coaxed, holding me up to his chest to stand. “I got you, Kitty,” he reassured. “I got you.”
That was when everything went black…
Except this time, I wasn’t in Julius’s arms.
I was in his brother’s.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out for. It could’ve been minutes or hours. Time stood still.
Groaning, I came to with my eyes fluttering open.
“You’re okay,” Kraven soothed, holding a cold, wet rag on my forehead.
Little by little, I woke up in the bed I least expected. This was the first time I’d been in his bed with him hovering above me. I was suddenly in some sort of déjà vu with the other Knightly.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.
“I’m sorry.” Sluggishly, I tried to sit up, and he helped me.
“I’m alright,” I reassured, leaning against the wall behind me. “How long have I been out?”
“Not long.”
He waited until I found my bearings, stating, “You know you can trust me, yeah?”
Our gazes connected.
I had to tell him. There was no way out of this.
Contemplating where to begin, I cut to the chase. “I saw the foster I was running from the day we met. Well, not technically him, but his wife.”
His gaze widened. “You saw her in the bathroom? Were we near where you used to live? Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have—”
“I didn’t see her, but I know it was her. She was in the bathroom stall, and it was definitely her.”