Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
At those words, something terrible lit his eyes…an ugly, triumphant gleam that made her stomach clench.
“That’s what you think, babe,” he murmured. “See, the reason I’m dressed like this, is that I signed up with a certain government agency.” He leaned forward until his face filled the screen. “One where it’s always hunting season…and the roads are always icy, if you know what I mean.”
Noelle’s mouth went bone dry and her heart stuttered painfully in her chest.
“You… you wouldn’t,” she managed to get out. “Even you wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“Fuck your ‘stooping,’” he snarled. “There was a sign-on bonus.”
The room felt suddenly too small…too hot and bright. Noelle’s hands trembled as she dug her nails into her palms.
“And guess what?” Branson continued. “Now I’ve got the power to go arrest your precious little Abuelita and throw her ass in a detention center.”
“You can’t do that!” Noelle gasped. Her heart hammered so hard she felt dizzy. “My grandmother is an American citizen! She got her citizenship when I was ten! I remember—I went to the ceremony!”
Branson just shrugged.
“Too fucking bad. You think anybody cares?” He laughed—a dry, ugly sound. “Citizen, not a citizen, legal, illegal—doesn’t matter. All anyone sees is that she’s brown and doesn’t speak English.”
“You’re lying,” Noelle whispered. But her chest felt tight and her pulse thundered in her ears.
“Am I?” Branson asked, poisonous satisfaction dripping from each syllable. “Don’t test me, babe. I can have her disappeared just like that.” He snapped his fingers sharply. “Could ship her back to Mexico. Or maybe someplace worse. Prison camp in South America, maybe? Wonder if sweet little abuelita’s heart could take it?”
Noelle’s vision went blurry with tears—hot, stinging tears of rage and helpless terror.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she choked.
“Oh yes I would.” Branson leaned in, filling the screen with his self-satisfied smirk. “Now…you come down here right now, and I might not break down her door and drag her off to a detention center. But you better get here quick. And you better come alone.” His voice sharpened. “If I see anyone else—anyone at all with you—I’ll give the word, and my boys will pay her a little visit. And you’ll never…never see her again.”
Noelle felt sick—the room seemed to have tilted sideways.
Branson was threatening her grandmother—her sweet, gentle abuelita. The one person who had loved her unconditionally her whole life—who had raised her after her parents died.
Branson would use her as bait. And he’d do it smiling, the asshole!
Noelle felt like her insides were turning to lead.
She knew that if she went back to Earth, he’d never let her go again. She knew he might hurt her—he might even kill her. Or he might deport her too, if that was what it took to keep his sick sense of control. It wouldn’t matter that she had been born in America—they were deporting everyone brown these days and Noelle knew it.
But she couldn’t leave her grandmother to be terrorized.
I have to go back, she thought numbly. Even if it means…even if it means I never come back. Never see Burn or Bright again.
“All right,” she said, barely hearing her own voice. “I’m coming.”
“Make it quick,” Branson snapped. “Or sweet little abuelita gets a ride to the nearest center. I’m waiting outside her house—see you soon.”
And then the screen went dark.
Silence fell around her like a suffocating shroud.
Noelle sank slowly to her knees, her fingers digging into the carpet as though she could anchor herself to something—anything—solid.
A heavy, hollow dread had settled into her chest.
The future she’d barely begun to dream of—a future filled with Bright’s sweet tenderness and Burn’s fierce love—had fractured like a crystal goblet dropped on concrete. She would never see either of her men again.
She was going back into hell.
And she was going alone.
75
BRIGHT
Bright felt like absolute shit.
There was no other word for it—nothing eloquent or poetic. Just a raw, hollow ache that throbbed through his chest and wrapped around his ribs like barbed wire. It had been days since Burn had spoken to him—days since he’d even acknowledged his calls. Not even the Think-me connection worked anymore. Every attempt to reach his best friend was met with silence.
The kind of silence that cut deeper than words ever could.
He lay sprawled on the wide, empty expanse of his sleeping platform, staring up at the ceiling of his lonely suite like it held the answers. But it didn’t. There was no clarity to be found in the smooth metal panels overhead—no comfort in the sterile air that hummed quietly around him.
He missed Burn. And he missed her…Gods, how he missed Noelle!
The memory of her soft curves, her bright eyes, the way she smiled—he ached for her with every breath. He wanted to see her…wanted desperately to go to her, to throw himself at her feet and beg her to love him again.