Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
The memory of the last time I saw her pops into my head as I start to doze again. Her unseeing gaze staring up at me from the frozen ground where she’s lying in a pool of crimson. I hear the thunk of something hard and heavy falling to the ground, and when I look down, I see a bloody axe lying next to my feet.
No.
Sure, Cassie’s a shitty fucking assistant, but surely…
Lifting my hands, the white forest around me spins when I see that my palms are equally red, and then I hear that terrifying growl…
My eyes fly open, and I sit up with a gasp, my hands clutching the blanket and sheets covering me from the waist down as my gaze darts to every corner of the room. It’s day, so there are no shadows to taunt me, only the ones my mind creates.
It wasn’t a dream.
It was real.
Panic fuses with my blood, turning it cold when it all comes rushing back, and I realize where I am.
Northern Canada.
The mountains.
The wilds.
The cabin.
The animals who inhabit it.
The bed of twisted branches.
Khalil’s bed.
I’m in Khalil’s bed, and I’m alone. I don’t know for how long. I have to run while I still can—before they remember me and pick up where they left off.
Tearing the thick blanket away, I get my first glance at my bare feet and legs. I’m wearing a green and black wool flannel shirt instead of my dress, and it’s two sizes too big, so the hem reaches the top of my thighs. On my right leg, there’s a fresh white bandage wrapped around my knee, and matching ones are on both of my arms where the worst of the frostbite is located. When I feel something pulling at the skin near my hairline, I carefully reach up and wince when I touch the stitches there. The list of injuries grows longer when I discover an IV in my arm, a gauze pad taped to my cheek, and another on the back of my right hand.
I feel fine, considering, but I know I must look a mess. Even though my uncle isn’t here, I can still hear him berating me for not upholding the standard of my name.
I’m never allowed in the public eye without first being plucked and primped for hours. Hell, I’m still expected to groom myself meticulously even when I’m sick and bedridden. “You are a role model, Aurelia. It’s not enough to simply appear as one. You must behave like one.”
Rescue could come any day now.
I need to be prepared.
I’d nearly driven Tyler mad during our three days in the wild, constantly picking and fretting at my clothes and hair and bemoaning the absence of my luggage while he fought to keep us alive.
Noticing a mirror on the dresser, I rise from the bed on unsteady legs and remove the IV from my arm before I limp to the other side of the room.
I’m horrified by what I find.
It’s even worse than I imagined. The reflection that greets me doesn’t look like my own.
My once vibrant curls, which require meticulous care to manage, are now dry, frizzy, and fraying at the ends. The dark circles under my eyes make me look like I haven’t slept in days, even though it feels like I just woke up from a coma. Meanwhile, the parts of my skin that aren’t covered in bandages have turned mottled from bruising.
I’m still fussing with my appearance when I hear a creak on the wooden floor, and I startle, realizing I’m not alone.
I don’t hear or see him, but his presence is electric—charged up and full of stifled fury, drama, and danger. He appears relaxed as he watches me from the door, but I know he’s in desperate need of release—somewhere for all that pent-up energy to go. I push that thought away since I know what kind of release he’ll be looking for.
“Women,” Khalil says derisively. My only window to escape is closed now that he knows I’m conscious and moving around. “You’ve been through more trauma in a week than most people suffer their entire lives, and your first concern is your hair?”
I pause but don’t let my shame do more than raise its ugly head before I burn it to cinders with a flame thrower. I’m proud of how unaffected I sound as I continue to stare into the mirror while using my finger to try to fluff my clumped lashes. “Who says worrying about how I look isn’t just another trauma?” I speak truthfully. From the corner of my eye, I see his lips part to respond, but I’m far from finished. “It’s bold of you to assume that you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me when you’re not even in the starting five.”
“Oh? I’m all ears, Goldilocks. Tell me your secrets.”