Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"Again?" King Phillip arches a brow, dark amusement in his sapphire eyes—eyes so much like his daughter's I can't even stand to look at him for long.
"He is who he is," my father says.
"I'll be in your study, drinking your fancy alcohol." Samson ducks out into the hall.
"The Orcs are taking too long," I tell my father and Phillip.
"The Orcs don't have her, son."
"They're still searching."
"They don't have her," my father says again.
"You don't know that."
He and Phillip share a look that draws me up short.
"You know something," I growl. "Tell me."
"Who else knew where you were keeping Thalia?" Phillip asks.
"No one."
"No one?"
"Just me and Samson."
"Motherfucker." Phillip's face turns red, anger flashing in his eyes as his gaze flickers toward the door Samson just left out of.
"What?"
"Son." My father sighs, running a hand down his face. "Samson went missing during the search today. He was gone for over an hour."
"What are you saying?"
"He's saying Samson Bucia took my daughter," Phillip growls.
Samson took Thalia?
"Impossible," I mutter, staring at Phillip as if he's lost his mind. Samson is the one fucking person in this world who would never betray me—my brother in everything but blood.
"Listen to him, Troy," my father urges.
"When the search team finally caught up to him, he refused to let them continue the search in the area. He said he'd already done it."
"Okay, so he searched ahead."
Phillip reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. He holds it out toward me. "If he searched, why did one of them find this clinging to a branch in plain sight?"
I stalk forward, snatching a scrap of yellow fabric from his hands. My heart slams against my ribcage, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. I recognize it. It's from one of her dresses—the same one she wore the day I chased her through the woods, the day she fell into the pond.
A thousand emotions rage within me, each one fighting for dominion as fury threatens to consume me. Hope, hatred, and betrayal crash together in my chest, threatening to rip me apart.
"He took her," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. My best friend betrayed me. For the last two days, he's smiled in my face, patted me on the back, and the entire fucking time, he's the one who took her from me.
"There's blood on the fabric, Troy."
I flip it over, my gaze landing on the blood smeared across the yellow fabric. The stain is old, at least two days.
The whole goddamn world disappears in a haze of white-hot rage.
I bellow like a wounded animal, raw fury surging through me. I drop the fabric, my body already in motion before my thoughts catch up. I charge for the door—for Samson.
If he's still in this castle, I'm going to fucking kill him. Just as soon as he tells me what he did to her.
"Troy!" My father tries to stop me.
"Let him go," Phillip advises.
I ignore them both, throwing open the doors to the throne room and launching myself down the hallway. My feet pound against the tiles as I race toward my study, looking left and right, searching for any sign of the bastard.
I spot him at the end of the hallway.
I don't stop. I don't think. I plow into him like a raging bull, knocking him off his feet. He goes sprawling across the tiles.
"You motherfucker!" I roar, flipping him onto his back. My fist connects with his face in a sickening crunch.
"Jesus, Troy!" he cries, bringing his hands up as if to protect himself, but I don't give him the opportunity. My fist connects with his face again and then again, blood pouring from his nose.
I shake my hand out, my knuckles bleeding and screaming in pain. I barely feel them as Samson groans.
"You tried to shoot her while she was asleep and defenseless," I snarl, wrapping my hand around his throat and shaking him like a ragdoll. "Is she alive? Tell me now!"
"Y-yes," he wheezes, his face turning red and then purple from lack of oxygen.
The red haze clouding my vision creeps back an inch. For the first time in two days, I take a breath. And then I remember the blood on that scrap of her dress. The thought chokes me, and I tighten my grip once more.
"What did you do to her?" I demand, enjoying the way panic washes through his eyes as he struggles to breathe. He deserves to know what it feels like to fear for his life. That's what he did to her. He deserves to feel like he'll never breathe again. That's how I've felt for two fucking days.
"Let him breathe, Troy." My father places his hand on my shoulder. I didn't even know he was behind me. "Let him breathe so he can answer you."
I loosen my grip only slightly.
Samson sucks in a rattling breath.