Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
More gunshots come from deeper into the warehouse. I fight the urge to close my eyes and pretend this isn’t happening, just like I did so many times as a kid. If I’m going to be helpful, I have to be here, present, ready to fight, and prepared to die.
Suddenly, a man appears at the head of the corridor. He’s got a gun in his hand. He aims at me and fires. The bullet hits the wall so close to my head that I feel plasterboard and brick spray against the back of my neck. Instinct drives me to the floor. It’s a stupid thing to do. I regret it right away.
“Stupid slut,” the man grunts, taking two steps forward, aiming the gun right at me. This is it, then. This is where all the angst and uncertainty end. I wish I could turn back time, make every moment with Duke last, letting go of the guilt, the shame, any of it.
I close my eyes, knowing one thing for sure. I love Duke. I don’t care about the timeframe or the complications. I love him. I’ll always love him. If there’s a place after this, heaven or anywhere else, I will wait for him there, and if there isn’t, I’ll die knowing the truth. We belong to each other. We always will.
A gunshot goes off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Duke
The second the bullets start flying, I leap out of the cage. It must be the highest I’ve ever jumped over in my life. Without my hands to pull me up, I somehow hook my leg over and jump down into the darkness. Adrenaline, desire for the future, and protective instinct for my woman all drive me on.
Then I run, looking for my son and Molly, but there’s too much mayhem, people firing shots all over the damn place. I see flashes of violent men with each gunshot, but I can’t see my son or my woman. Are they dead? Fucking hell, then I’d just let these bastards shoot me right here. Without Molly, I’ve got nothing to live for.
Now, I’m pinning a man against the wall with the bulk of my body. He hammers my gut with his fist, trying to aim his pistol at me. He can’t because my knee is pushed against his forearm, trapping it. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to…
A loud bang goes off, then another, sounding different from a gunshot. A grenade? This is getting surreal. My vision suddenly explodes with blistering white light, my equilibrium thrown off as I attempt to recenter myself. I hear more gunshots, quicker this time, maybe automatic weapons.
One of the warehouse doors is open. Two men are running in with rifles, shooting into the dark. Holy shit. It’s Ethan and Jeff, but where are Molly and my son?
The man I had pinned against the wall groans. I quickly reapply the pressure, kneeing him in the gut repeatedly. I keep roaring with each strike, knowing my woman and son could be dead. I take out the pain on this piece of shit. I hear his ribs crack. Finally, he slumps to the floor.
“Molly?” I roar, kicking his gun away. “Ryan? Molly?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Molly
I still can’t believe Ryan did it. He shot my attacker. When the gunshot went off, I was sure it was the end. I was sure I would never see my mom, my friends, or my man again. Then I opened my eyes to find Ryan walking down the hallway under the flickering light, blood streaking his clothes and face, his eyes pits of terror.
Now, we’re hiding at the end of the hallway. There’s no way out from back here. It’s an office with the windows bricked up. Ryan is on one knee, aiming his gun at the door. I kneel beside him, holding the gun the man Ryan killed dropped. The corpse is blocking the doorway.
Beyond the door, I hear gunshots and something that goes off with an even louder bang. Maybe a bomb of some sort.
“I’m s-sorry, Molly,” Ryan says. I can tell how troubled he is by what he had to do. “I was awful to you. Just awful.”
I swallow. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he snaps. “We might d-d-d…” I’m relieved when he can’t finish the word. The last thing I want to think about is us dying. “You have to know, it was not okay. I was a bully. I was a real piece of shit. You’re a good person.”
“You were drinking a lot.”
“No,” he snaps, sounding like his dad for a moment. “That’s no excuse. I called you names. I belittled you. I swear to God, if we get out of here, I will be a better person.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask, hand trembling as I stare at the door, my finger on the trigger, wondering if I’ll have what it takes when the time comes.