Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Not thirty seconds later, it flies off its hinges and I have to press my lips firmly together to keep from squealing when the heavy wood cuts my already battered toes.
The barrel of a gun comes into view and as soon as the long fingers wrapped around it do, I strike, digging the sharp point into their forearm and heaving my knee up to get him in the balls, but I no sooner lift my foot off the ground when my wrists are caught. I’m spun in one second, slammed against the wall in the next, my hands pinned above my head.
Enzo’s dark eyes find mine from behind the low-slung bandana and he brings a finger to his lips.
I freeze, nodding.
Enzo looks left, listening intently as footsteps race down the hall, so he doesn’t see what I do in the sky behind him.
A drone swoops in out of nowhere, the machinery somehow completely fucking silent, Enzo whips around, a split second later its laser now bright on his temple.
My hands fly to his holster, drawing his gun swiftly. I lift the cold steel with my left hand and pull the trigger, shoving him out of its path with my right.
The drone goes down with a crash.
Enzo spins, eyes blazing with anger as he looks from it to me.
“Are you crazy?” he growls, pressing into me, but another drone comes, and I lift the gun again.
“Yogurt!” echoes from somewhere, making me hesitate. “Yogurt, fuck!”
The alarm comes to an abrupt stop, the lights flicking on in the hall outside my room. My chest heaves, brows frowning. “Wha…”
Enzo’s breaths are harsh, his eyes black and wild as he tears the bandana from around his nose. He glares, snatching the gun from my grip and lowering it to his side, but he doesn’t move back.
“What just happened?” I pant.
“Mino ran a drill.” His scowl deepens.
“A drill?”
He gives a curt nod. “They’re random. The team, nor I, know when they’re coming.”
Someone charges in the room then, dropping to their knees by the busted drone.
“My love,” the man whines, whipping his head this way, and even though he wears the bandana, his big round eyes tell me he’s legitimately pouting behind it. “You had to take out its brains? Why not a wing?”
I blink. “Oh, I’m sorry. So, next time, you want me to wound the robot trying to kill your king instead? Got it. And by the way, drones don’t have wings. Or a brain.”
The guy is about to argue, but Enzo cuts him off.
“Get the fuck out of this room. Now,” he growls without looking back, eyes hard and on mine.
“What?”
“You do not save me, do you understand? If there is a threat at my back, you bury yourself in my front. I will be your bulletproof vest. I will be your shield. I am the wall between you and danger, do you understand me?”
“I need a real weapon,” I say instead.
“I am your weapon.”
I grit my teeth and his chest rumbles.
I expect him to argue, to fight me as he seems to love to do, but instead he steps back, walking over to the shelves on the wall near the bed.
He glares at me as he bangs his fist against the backing, and I watch as a small compartment lowers, a sleek, silver pistol sitting on a bed of blue velvet, two clips nestled beside it. My brows jump in shock, but his frown holds strong as he moves to the built-in case on the opposite side and does the same, this time revealing a set of knives in order of smallest to largest, left to freaking right, just the way I like it.
A smile breaks across my face as I stare at the beauties, and I rush over, lifting the largest from its place.
It’s so pretty, the soft, dusty pink not unlike my ring. Almost shimmery, both handle and blade. Running my finger over the tip, I press it into my pointer. Immaculately sharp.
Lifting it closer, my teeth chew at the inside of cheek, my lips still curved high when I spot the small detail I didn’t notice at first glance.
Etched into the lowest point of the blade, is the letter B.
Could be the manufacturer.
Could be generic, a gift from some random site when you google what’s a good gift for a bride.
Granted, I’m not sure what bridal site would sell throwing knives and there’s no trademark symbol that confirms the logo is in fact one.
No. The B is for Boston. These were made with me in mind.
My grip grows a little tighter.
They were made just for me…
Enzo’s stare burns into my cheek, so I chance a glance at him, finding a strange look on his face.
Unease grows within me, and I slowly lower the knife back into the box. “What?”
He blinks, a small smile pulling at his lips. “That might have been the first smile I’ve earned, and it wasn’t even over the case of diamonds I offered, but a simple blade set.”