Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I stand on the toilet rim to study the metal frame, and hope lifts through my stomach. Screws fasten the frame to the wall, the screw heads flush with the metal surface.
Not easy to remove. But removable.
I spend the next hour looking for something to use on those screws before giving up. Obviously they don’t leave anything in here that’s pointy and metal. I’m ripping my fingernails to shreds, trying to get the screws to twist even a little when I hear a key scraping into the lock.
Shit.
Hurriedly I get my ass out of the bathroom. The sound of my door unlocking isn’t as scary as it was in the stables. But I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. I don’t think they’d hurt me. They’d probably make sure the vent was no longer an option, though.
Until Blowback came today to ask questions, the only visitors I’ve had were Duke and Bull, who check in on me and bring me food. Not that they told me their names. I had to read their vests.
But this has been different from the stables, too. Though some of the fighters gave me shit—some literally—most were okay. Some were friendly.
No one is friendly here. And I can’t expect them to be. In the stables, we were all in the crap together.
Here, I’m the girl who helped kidnap Stone.
But this time...it’s Stone who comes in.
He shoulders open the door, carrying in a few bags and a canvas duffle. I stand stock still in the middle of the cabin, with a storm of emotions building into a hurricane in my chest. The urge to run to him, to jump into his arms as if greeting a long lost friend. The surge of heat over my skin as I remember the last discussion we had. Maybe I’ll fuck the answers out of you. And sheer relief, because it’s been four days and no one has told me what he’s doing or where he’s been, even though I knew that he might be going after the Iron Blood.
But he looks...okay. Most of his injuries from the Cage have healed, no matter how much he wanted to keep them. That’s just what injuries do. They heal.
On the outside, at least.
And on the outside, he’s dressed like the first night I saw him. Casually, simply. Jeans, boots. A thick faded hoodie instead of a thick worn flannel. No vest, though. Maybe because he didn’t find it.
Or maybe because he doesn’t intend to wear anything for very long.
He turns and locks the deadbolt again. Tucks the key into his right pocket. Not leaving again right away. With my breath coming unsteady and fast, I glance at his bags. One is a plain paper sack the size of a grocery bag and the other looks like takeout.
But that duffle suggests something more.
I swallow hard. “If those are clothes, it looks like you’re moving in.”
“Maybe for a few days.” His voice is low and gravelly, his eyes skimming me from head to toes, as if taking in the messy bedhead, a face without makeup, and the giant T-shirt that replaced my filthy nurse’s uniform and serves as my only covering. “That depends on you.”
“Does it?”
Slowly he nods. “And whether I need to use what’s in the fun bag.”
“Which one’s the fun bag?”
He reaches into the paper sack…and pulls out a ball gag. Still in the clamshell container. As if purchased just for me.
I’ll make you pay—but I’ll also make you talk. I’ll have you begging to talk.
There’s other stuff in there, too, though I can’t see what. Just the impressions of more containers against the sides of the sack.
Heart thundering, my gaze flies to his again. I clasp my fingers together to hide their nervous shaking. “I hate to point out the obvious, but if you use that gag on me, I won’t be talking very much.”
And he grins. Oh my god. Just turns on that crooked, laughing smile that he wore so often before Victor showed him the video of his sister. My stomach clenches, longing tearing through my veins.
I’ve missed that smile. So much. And didn’t even realize it until this moment, when that grin warms and opens everything within me.
He drops the ball gag back into the sack, then heads over to the table and sets down the takeout. “But like I said, that depends on you. So let’s talk a while first—and share something that we missed.”
That storm of emotions swirls through me again as I watch him pull out containers of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing. Thanksgiving dinner. Not just sharing a meal but sharing a missed holiday.
“I couldn’t escape before that night,” I blurt out, my chest aching. “I had the scalpel but I also knew that I’d only have one chance. And that I’d have to kill the guard. But I didn’t even know if I could follow through. The whole time that I was preparing myself to get up there and do it, I almost kept puking. That’s why I waited. Because I didn’t know if I could kill someone. And I was afraid of how it would affect me after. So I kept hoping for some other option.”