Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
‘Mommy,’ my heart wails. My innocence is ripped from me, and my world is thrown into violent disarray.
Cillian bundles me into the passenger seat and straps on the seat belt before he slams the door shut. I watch him run around the front of the car. He climbs behind the steering wheel, and seconds later, tires squeal as we race away from the gruesome sight.
“We can’t leave Mom,” I cry.
Something slams into the car, and we jerk forward. My cries grow louder when Cillian curses, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
Bullets hit my side of the car, and terrified, I scream.
“Get down, Winter!” Cillian shouts at me.
With trembling fingers, I unbuckle the seat belt and slip off the seat. More bullets hit the car, and the windows shatter, raining glass down on me.
“Fucking bastards,” Cillian growls as he does his best to keep the car on the road. Something slams into us again, making the vehicle jerk forward.
“Almost there,” Cillian grinds the words out as he takes a sharp corner, making the tires screech as they struggle to stay on the road.
I glance up at Cillian, and the worry etched with deep lines on his face makes grave fear shudder through me. I’ve never seen Cillian scared before. He’s always been calm. He always looked at me with a lopsided grin. Being my personal guard Cillian was always just there, walking a couple of steps ahead of me. Now he’s the only thing standing between me and the monsters who killed my mom.
Another wave of bullets sprays the car. Cillian lets out a string of curses as he pushes his foot down on the peddle.
“Stay down, poppet,” he says, his breaths rushing over his lips.
“Cillian,” I whisper, too afraid to speak louder.
“Stay down,” he repeats, and then the car slams into something before it comes to a skidding stop.
The noise of gunfire is so loud, it fills my ears until all that’s left is a ringing noise.
Cillian grabs hold of his gun and opens the door. He rushes out of the car and begins to shoot at the men attacking us.
Unable to stay down, I crawl from the foot space and over the console onto the driver’s seat. “Cillian,” I whisper again, and it makes his eyes dart to me.
Instead of his usual lopsided grin, a dark grimace distorts his face as he rushes back to me.
“You’re safe now.” Slipping his hands under my arms, he pulls me out of the car, and then he begins to run with me. “I’ve got you, poppet. You’re going to be okay.”
From over his shoulder, I take in the scenery that looks like a war zone. “Cillian,” I whisper, terrified and heartbrokenly. Tears flood my eyes, blurring my sight.
“Winter!” I hear Dad shout.
“She’s been shot,” Cillian yells. “Get me a first aid kit.”
It’s only then I become aware of the blood dampening my shirt.
My eyes begin to grow heavy as my body jerks with every step Cillian runs. My tongue becomes heavy, and I’m unable to tell him I’ll be okay.
It feels as if my heartbeat is slowing down as if the sorrow engulfing me is drowning it. I’m being sucked into a nightmare there’s no waking from.
My ears still ring, and I feel wet as if I’ve been bathed in blood. My mother’s. My own.
Cillian lies me down, and then he begins to work on my neck. For a moment, his eyes lock with mine. “I’ll fix you, poppet.”
Tears warm my icy skin, and the last thing I’m aware of before I pass out is Dad letting out a heartbreaking cry while Cillian works to stop the blood seeping from my neck.
The Past - 14 Years Old.
Since the attack, we’ve been stuck on a lake island in Finland. There’s no more private school. No shopping trips. No interacting with other kids my age.
Since Mom was killed, there’s only the island, the guards, and private tutors.
It feels like I’m stuck in a bubble that can pop at any moment.
I’m sitting on the shore, throwing pebbles into the water while I stare at the land in the distance. It harbors the nearest town to us. I’ve never been there, though.
Letting out a miserable sigh, my thoughts turn to the past. It’s been a year since Mom was killed. I got shot in the neck but was lucky. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital.
I hear movement behind me, and without glancing over my shoulder, I know it’s Cillian. A couple of seconds later, his shadow falls over me, and he grumbles, “You know you shouldn’t be out here. Let’s head back.”
Another heavy sigh escapes me as I throw the last pebble into the water before climbing to my feet.
When I turn around, Cillian tilts his head and lifts his hand to the side of my neck. Caringly, his palm covers the scar. “What can I do to make you smile again?”