Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"I understand. How... how did they die?" Her inquisitive eyes meet mine. She says she understands, yet her curiosity gets the best of her every time. "Your mom and dad."
"My dad died in prison," I find myself muttering. It's strange talking about this shit. It's been decades, after all, and I don't speak to anyone about my family. But something about Monroe's trusting gaze makes me want to open up for the very first time. "My mom... she was a drug addict since before my brother and I were born. When I was sixteen, she OD'd."
The silence hangs between us, heavy and charged with tension. Finally, Monroe reaches across the table for my hand, gently covering it with her palm as she whispers, "I'm sorry, Alaric."
"Don't be." I don't pull away, surprising myself. "She wasn't a good mother."
"And you said you had a brother?"
"Yeah."
"He's gone... too?" She looks so sad for me. But this isn't a sob story meant for her to feel sorry for me. It's a story of how I dragged myself out of the gutters and made a life, a name for myself. And I'm not going to feel bad about it. After all, everyone around me is long gone by now. And I'm the only one still breathing.
"Yes, he's gone."
"What happened?" she whispers.
"He died two years before my mom," I mutter. "He got shot in a drive-by. He was dead on the scene."
"I'm so sorry, Alaric."
"You don't have to keep saying that." I grin darkly. "I've made my peace with the past. I had to move on to save my own life. But I had help."
"What kind of help?"
"The Lombardis." It doesn't escape me how pale she gets when I mention that name. She's afraid of the Lombardis and for a good fucking reason. If I were handing out advice, I'd tell her to stay the fuck away from them. They're dangerous, lethal. But then again, so am I. "They gave me a home, took me in when my mom died. I had no one else. They took good care of me. But of course, they expected something in return. And that's how my training began."
"Your training... to be a killer?"
I don't get to answer Monroe's question because my phone rings. I scowl at the number displayed across the screen. "Sorry, sugar. I have to take this."
The call is quick and efficient, like always. It's a name, a location, and a date when it has to be completed. Except I don't even get a week or a day. It has to be done by midnight tonight.
My fist tightens around the burner phone as the call ends. I set it down and look warily at Monroe.
"What?" She knits her brows together in worry. "What is it?"
"There's something urgent I have to do," I mutter. "You'll have to come with me."
She pales, panicking. "But... you haven't even touched your food."
My food is the least of my worries right now. I'm more stressed about the fact that I'll have to drag Monroe to a kill site with me, and I didn't bring a pair of handcuffs.
"Come on." I toss a hundred-dollar bill on the table and motion for her to follow me. "We're leaving."
With trepidation, she falls into step beside me as we walk to my ride. On the drive over, she's quiet and pensive, and I can almost feel her quickened heartbeat without so much as touching her.
"When we get there, I'm going to have to lock you in the trunk of the car while I do my job."
"W-What?" Pure panic washes over her face. She's suddenly pale as fuck, trembling at the prospect of being locked up. And that's when I remember her past, what her stepdad did to her, how he locked her in a closet. Fuck. I don't want to do this, but I'm afraid I don't have a choice. "No, Alaric. Please. Don't do that to me."
"I don't have a choice," I grunt in return. "Especially with your attempt to run away. I'm not fucking risking it."
I pull up in a back alley while her panicked hands cling onto me. "Please. Don't do this to me. I'm begging you. Don't lock me in the trunk, Alaric, please, fucking please. I'm so scared."
I glance at her, trying to figure out another way to do this. But there is no other way. Either I lock her in the trunk, or she has to come with me. At this point, I'm not sure which option would mentally scar her more. They're both fucked up.
"Do you understand what I'm going to do in there, Monroe?" I hiss at her. "I'm going to hurt someone. And you'll be forced to watch."
"Please." Her panicked expression doesn't wane as she clings to me. "I swear, I'll be good. Just take me with you. Don't leave me here. I can't take it. I'll die."