Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Could this be him now? Staking his claim on me, after my dad’s continued failures? Taking his pound of flesh in the most literal sense.
“Let go of me,” I say quietly. Voice choked by my own worries of what comes next.
“Why would I do that? It’s just a bit of fun, Babe. Relax. Enjoy it.” His hand moves higher up my thigh. Not much, but enough for me to know exactly where this is going. That I’ve fucked up. That even if the twins were here, none of us would be able to stop the stranger from taking what he wants.
“It’s not fun for me.” My body tenses, and I shut his hand tightly between my thighs before it can reach any closer.
“Oh, but you will,” he says.
“Let go of me,” I repeat, louder this time. Not quite a scream, but close enough that my voice echoes down the alleyway behind us.
I press my fists into his midsection and push, the way I had with the beast hovering over my dad. Unlike him, this stranger doesn’t budge. He remains firm, one hand restraining me by the shoulders while the other wriggles between my legs.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” he hisses, casting his eyes at the door. His arm tightens around my shoulders, the hand inching ever closer to my breast.
My heart stops. My mind erupts with all the evils on the horizon. No one’s coming to help and I’m alone. I open my mouth to scream, but the hand reaching for my breast moves higher to clamp it shut.
“Make another sound, and it’ll get a lot worse for you,” he says. Threatening. Severe. “And fast.”
In the midst of the chaos, I almost miss it. Someone’s whistling emerging from the deep black bowls of the alley. Quiet to start, but like the footsteps carrying it closer, the sound grows louder and louder until it’s an arm’s length away.
The stranger yanks his hand up from my legs, before his neck snaps and cranes to meet the newcomer.
Where I thought the stranger was tall, this new guy is gigantic. Somewhere between six-foot-six and seven even. A hulking mass shrouded in black, both from the dark which the light finds impossible to penetrate, and the coat that hardly hides his physique. Black cloth covers the lower half of his face, and a tanned leather cowboy hat rests atop his head.
Though his eyes manage to catch the light. Light blue, so close to silver they may as well be the daggers his glare sends toward the stranger. And the fire burning inside them isn’t coming from the dim, artificial lamps hanging on the wall. They’re burning from the intense rage even his covering can’t hide.
He continues whistling the tune I’ve never heard before, not stopping until he reaches a minor note that sets the tone for his intentions.
“I believe the lady told you to let her go,” he says, his voice matches the drawling cowboy aesthetic. Fake and forced, it somehow manages to make me smile, even with the unfortunate circumstances that led him here.
“And what are you gonna do about it, if I don’t?” The stranger pokes a finger into the Cowboy’s chest.
He glances down at it. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Before anyone has a chance to react, the Cowboy grabs the stranger’s finger in a tight fist. With an upward twist of his wrist, the stranger’s finger makes an ungodly popping noise. The sound is followed by a harrowing screaming into the night, against the thunderous clouds above and the echo of the alley.
But the blood curdling screech is seized in the cowboy’s grip. He latches onto the stranger’s mask, crushing the plastic to muzzle him.
“Make another sound, partner, and it’s gonna get a lot worse for you,” he repeats the stranger’s words. Against the instruction comes a muffled cry against the Cowboy’s gloved hand.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The Cowboy releases the finger, replacing his grip on the stranger’s neck. He drives his face forward into the table once, twice and a third time for good measure before releasing him.
The stranger flops back in his chair, dazed, bloody but dead quiet. Heaving air into his longs, in the brief respite of the Cowboy’s onslaught.
The cowboy hops over the fence and walks over to my side. He offers me a hand. I take it. He adjusts our positions until I’m standing behind him, before loosening the umbrella and letting the rain wash over the stranger.
“What’s that for?” I ask.
I have a thousand questions, but somehow this small action seems to be the most confusing to me.
“Gotta wash the blood off the tiles somehow,” he says. “Might as well let nature’s shower take care of it.”
Just like that, I’m hooked to another man I don’t know. Something tells me, I should stick close to this one.