Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
It’s still not enough. “I should fucking kill you!” I scream, my face close enough to his that my spit hits his skin. “How dare you touch her?” It’s so satisfying, the sound his head makes when I slam it against the concrete floor.
“No! You’re killing him!” Even now, Wren finds the strength to make me stop. Not that I care if I killed him, but I care about what it would do to Tia. And I wouldn’t want Wren to witness it, either. Reality seeps back into my rage-fueled thoughts and calms me enough that I can see what a mistake it would be to continue.
He groans and rolls to the side once I’ve let him go, covering his head with his folded arms, sipping air carefully like he is in a fuck-ton of pain. Still not enough, but if I start again, I won’t be able to stop.
There are things that matter more. Like checking her out, making a list of what he did. Her bottom lip is split, swelling so much she can’t speak clearly. The blood dripping onto her chin is ugly, but not nearly as ugly as her left eye now that it’s turned purple and started to swell shut.
“I’m okay,” she whispers, taking my hands, holding them still when I try to touch her face. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve guessed this would happen. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You couldn’t have. You didn’t know.”
“Come on.” I can’t stand to listen to him fighting to breathe and whimper in pain another second. “Let’s get you out of here. Get you cleaned up.”
Only when she tries to stand, a tiny, animal whimper stirs in her throat, and she sucks in a pained breath through her clenched teeth. “I can’t,” she finally whispers, shaking her head, lowering herself to the bottom step. “It hurts too much.”
“What hurts?” That’s it. I’m going to have to kill him now. Fuck the consequences.
“My ribs. He kicked me.” She’s shaking from the pain, and he has absolutely no reason to breathe another second.
It’s what she says next that stops me dead. Lifting her head slowly, she manages to force the words out. “It was him. He did it.”
“Did what?”
“The notes.” She takes a thin, shaky breath. “He told me. It was him.”
The rage that was already roaring in my head explodes into something that goes deeper than violence. It’s betrayal, it’s disgust, it’s even disappointment that I have to be related to this heartless, gutless piece of shit still curled in a tight ball on the floor.
There are better ways to take out the trash. “You’re sure about this?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket so I can update Paul Wilder. Her head bobs up and down while a tear trickles from between her swollen eyelids.
Once Paul answers, I announce, “Looks like we found the person responsible for those death threats.” I nudge my father’s back with my foot, and he flinches, groaning. “It was my dad. He told her so.”
Glancing her way makes something squeeze my heart so tight, I’m sure it’s going to pop. “While he was beating the shit out of her in the basement. I should’ve been here. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t do that,” Paul warns. He’s flat, professional, and I appreciate that. There’s a job to be done now. “Take her to the hospital, get her checked out.”
“What about him?”
“Don’t you worry about him. I’ll take care of it.” The way he says it makes my lips pull back from my teeth in a satisfied smile. I only wish I could be around to watch him face his punishment.
But Paul’s right. Wren is what matters now. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” I murmur, sliding one arm under her knees and wrapping the other one around her upper back, under her arms. “I’m going to pick you up, and I’m going to carry you to the truck. I’ll try to be as careful as I can.”
“I don’t need—” A squeak of pain cuts short her weak, useless protests once I lift her off the stairs. Right. She doesn’t need to go to the hospital. That’s believable.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her more than once while helping her into the truck, setting her down as gently as possible, easing the seatbelt over and around her while she struggles to take one pained breath after another. I bet she’s got broken ribs, plenty of them.
It’s almost too tempting, the idea of heading back down to the basement and finishing what I started, but somehow, I manage to stay on task by going upstairs instead of down. Tia is in her room, and she asks no questions once I tell her to put her shoes on. “We need to make a little trip,” I explain. There’s only so much I can hide from her—she’s going to see the blood. She’s going to hear Wren trying to hide the pain.