Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“If you don’t stop, I’ll knock you out with a hit to the face,” he seethed, and I froze. His breath smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap liquor.
“Brutus, let's not resort to scare tactics.” Henry clucked and moved closer until he stood right in front of me. He stared at me, the leering and suggestive looks suddenly gone as he became serious.
And that terrified me the most out of this entire situation.
“It could have been worse, Galina. So much worse.”
I bit my tongue so I didn’t say something I couldn't take back. I was still trying to think of how to get out of this, even if that seemed impossible.
“And hey,” he said and grinned once more, holding his hands out as if he was some kind of martyr. “I’m not such a bad guy. I’m even going to let you go back home and gather anything you want that’ll fit into a bag. I do want you to be comfortable… until you’re not.” He gave me a wink, and my belly clenched in dread.
I didn’t ask why he was giving me that small “gift,” because it allowed me more time to think of how to escape, of how to run. What Leo and Henry didn’t know—what no one knew—was I had always felt like something bad was going to happen. That other shoe dropping. The end of the world… my world. And it was because of that that I’d already packed a bag, had escape money, no actual plan but a means to leave at the drop of a hat. If I could just get to where I’d stashed my bag and supplies, I had a chance. It was slim, but it was still a chance.
So I went slack in the asshole’s arms until he loosened his hold on me enough I could breathe comfortably. Henry cocked his head, maybe thinking I was being a little too accepting of my situation, but I didn't care. I had to be smart if I wanted a chance to survive.
I gave my piece-of-shit father one last hateful look, swearing that if I ever had the chance, I’d end him, wipe out his miserable life like he’d so easily done with mine. I was then hauled away, pulled through the dirty warehouse, and tossed into the back of the car I’d been brought here in.
The next twenty minutes as we drove through Vegas and back to my crappy apartment went by in a blur. I didn’t question why they hadn’t just grabbed my stuff when they’d taken me from my apartment. I didn’t wonder why they were even giving me this small “act of kindness”. I didn’t ask or care because in the end they didn’t care. Hell, for all I knew this was all an act to make me more compliant, to make it seem like things weren’t as bad as they were.
In the end my feelings and wants and needs, my comforts didn’t matter.
I couldn’t think straight, was sweaty and shaking, and I felt the glaring looks of the two men who sat on either side of me.
Before I knew it, I was hauled out of the back of the car and taken up to my apartment. Because my place was as shitty as they came, anyone we passed—even at this hour—minded their own business. They were either addicts and not coherent enough to care, or they knew who the men trailing me worked for and were too afraid to intervene.
“Grab your shit,” one of the men said harshly as he pushed me into my apartment after the door was opened. It was shut behind me, and I started making my way toward my room, when I felt a tight grip on my forearm stop me.
“If you do anything stupid, I’ll fucking beat you and say to hell with grabbing your shit. Got it?”
I didn’t look at the prick who spoke the words, just nodded and tugged my arm free. “I have to use the bathroom.”
“Make it quick.” His words were clipped as he followed close behind me.
Before I could go inside, he pushed his way in front and surveyed the bathroom. It was tiny and old, with rust and calcium deposits and stains on the tub and sink, a small window above the tub. He went over to the window and tried opening it, and I held my breath, praying it held. It was old and janky, but I’d rigged it a certain way that I could open it where others would see it as sealed shut.
And when it held strong, he moved away, and I exhaled. He checked under the sink, presumably for weapons, but all he’d find was a couple of cleaning supplies, which he removed. What did he think I was going to do with them?
“Make it quick,” he said again and left me alone, and I was shocked he allowed me to close the door. I wanted to thank whoever was listening, but I didn't have time. No one would help me but myself.