Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Remorse blustered through his expression, and his hand snatched my waist. “Not givin’ up on you, Aria. I just don’t know if I can protect you and the rest of our family, too. You’re what’s important.”
I shook my head, just barely. “Every single one of them is important—and they have their Nols, who love them just as much as you love me. Don’t forget that. This has never been only about us, and selfishness is not going to serve us now. We have to do whatever we can.”
The tattoos on his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Fuck, I know. I’m just—”
In a flurry of motion, he clutched me against him, his body a burning flame against mine. He buried his face in my hair. “This is all so fucked up.”
“I know. But we can’t lose hope in the middle of it.”
Peeling myself out of his hold, I leaned down and grabbed our bags where we’d left them packed at the foot of the bed. “We need to go.”
We made it into Fort Wayne a little before noon. Our nerves were frayed. We’d spent the entire trip on edge as we sped as quickly as we could without drawing too much attention to ourselves.
I could barely take in the quaint beauty of the city as I sat forward in the seat, though there was no missing that it was frozen.
Covered in snow.
I had the cell gripped in my hand as it gave directions to the address Pax had found, my attention rapt as he wound through the city.
My heart thundered and my spirit screamed.
We had to make it.
We had to stop this tragedy.
Pax made a right off the main road and into an older family neighborhood. Most of the houses appeared unique, each different from the others, the yards of different sizes and the paint different colors.
Some were surrounded by tall wooden fences, and others remained open to the ruddy river that ran on the opposite side of the road.
Trees soared, their branches stretched out like bare bones in the frigid winter, and the ground was completely covered in snow except for the sidewalks and roads.
The heater cranked through the vents, but it didn’t do anything to allay the chill that suddenly slicked across my skin and sank all the way into my spirit.
Pax flinched, fingers twitching on the steering wheel.
“Do you feel it?” I asked, the tension suddenly so stark that I could barely speak.
A harbinger of wickedness.
“Yeah, Aria, I feel it,” Pax grunted.
He sat forward in his seat, both of us peering out the windshield as we approached the address.
Your destination is on the right, the computer-generated voice proclaimed, though somehow it felt like it was issuing a sentence.
A penalty.
Pax slowed to a crawl, and ice slipped down my spine and a chill raced through my body.
Because up ahead was a two-story house painted a sage green with white accents, and coming down its walkway was a tall, lanky man who ambled along with his head down and his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.
He was headed toward a gray truck parked in front of a closed garage.
Short, black hair and pale, pale skin.
“Peter,” I rasped, blinking, unable to believe I was laying eyes on another member of our family.
But there was no relief in it. There was only a crash of desperation and a frenzy of recklessness when we saw another man step out from where he’d been hidden behind the truck.
Arm trembling as he lifted a gun and aimed it over the hood.
“Oh God,” I wheezed.
In the middle of the road, Pax shoved the car into park and threw open his door. “Stay in the car,” he gritted as he jumped out.
I couldn’t help but do the same. Needing to do something. To stop this from happening.
Only it was too late.
Because the man uttered his name, and Peter looked up.
The second he did, the crack of a gunshot rang out.
It echoed and rolled.
Disorienting.
Everything set to slow as a scream locked in my throat.
Stunned, Peter gripped his chest.
“Fuck,” Pax spat at the same second as he whipped his gun from his jacket pocket.
Shock covered Peter’s face, though I thought I saw realization dawn beneath it. When he discerned that he had been the next fatality. That our family’s twisted fate had brought him to his end.
Something close to sorrow billowed through his expression before he stumbled to the side, then dropped to his knees, slumping face down on the snow-covered lawn in his front yard.
Snow that turned bright red.
A rattled ball of grief lifted, but I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep it contained, knowing I had to get to the man before he knew I was there. Put my hands on him and pray I could extinguish the cruelty he had been given, all while wondering if it was too late for him.