Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 133213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Sweetie?” Was his mom here? “Are you all right? You should know I was against the whole use of the tranquilizer. I thought they could just, like, tie you up or something. Your dad’s good at that, as you’re about to find out. Don’t struggle too much.”
“Mom?” He managed to get his eyes open.
Was he home?
Why was the rest of his body not working? He managed to focus. His mom was kneeling beside him, concern in her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
He seemed to be in the dining room in the house he’d grown up in. His parents had a beautiful home in North Dallas in a wealthy neighborhood where the lots were big enough for a pool and a guesthouse his sister had been living in up until recently. Every inch of this house was coated in memories.
It was probably why he hadn’t been home in years. Everything would remind him of what he’d lost.
“Could someone tell me what’s happening?” Tristan asked. “The last thing I remember I was having the weirdest conversation with Daisy. Also, am I shrink-wrapped to a chair?”
It’s what it felt like. He legit couldn’t move his arms or legs. He was pretty sure his feet moved, though, and he could turn his neck. It was how he knew his dads were sitting across from him, both enjoying what looked to be an excellent brunch.
“It’s more like plastic wrap.” His sister was here, too. Good. He wanted an audience for this humiliation. “The last time I went camping with the dads they were trying out the whole plastic wrap as a hammock thing. They shouldn’t be allowed on TikTok. It gives them ideas.”
“Not where I got this one,” his papa said with a wink his mom’s way.
Adam Miles. Papa. The one who hadn’t shot him with a tranquilizer dart but had almost certainly been involved in the planning. Because his papa and his dad were always in step. They didn’t miscommunicate or get awkward around each other. They always took care of his mom.
They were everything he wanted him and Aidan to be. Aidan measured up. Aidan did everything he’d promised. Tristan had been the one to fail.
“Okay, Carys already had to face some terrible truths about her parents. I think it’s enough revelations for the day,” his sister said and gave him a brilliant smile. “I think they’re talking about Mom’s sudden interest in mummification play.”
“It was for research, but I found it oddly soothing.” His mom eased into the chair beside him. “It’s good to know there are boundaries to be pushed after all these years.”
“You’re still the most open-minded woman I know,” his dad said with a wink as he picked up a piece of bacon. “And as usual your crazy research came in handy because I think Tris would be able to bust out of some zip ties. Probably even handcuffs. Big Tag would make sure.”
“You know what Big Tag wasn’t prepared for?” Papa asked.
“Some nutjob wrapping my unconscious body in what has to be forty-two pounds of plastic wrap?” Tris asked.
His dad nodded, obviously proud of himself. “Exactly.”
He should have known they would pull something like this. Though he’d expected them to show up at the house he shared with Coop. He looked to his sister. “You tell them where I was?”
“No,” Brianna said with a frown. “But if I had, I wouldn’t feel bad about it. You know you do have a tracker thingee.”
“Uh, that’s classified.” What the hell was happening? “Did my boss let you track me?”
Papa sat back, gesturing around. “Has everyone forgotten who the hell I am? I don’t need Big Tag to give me a damn invite.”
“You hacked the Agency?”
“Like it’s hard.” Papa sighed. “I was hacking military and government bases long before you were a thought, child. Look, Tris, we’ve been patient with you.”
“Adam,” his mom began. “Remember what we talked about.”
“Your mother thinks we should handle you with delicacy,” Dad explained. “She’s worried we’ll harm your tender feelings. Personally, I think you’re way tougher than she’s giving you credit for. After all, you’ve had absolutely no thought for her feelings for a couple of years.”
“Do you have any idea how many times you’ve made your mother cry?” Papa leaned forward.
Tristan’s gut twisted. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve been working. I’m sorry if my job doesn’t come with normal hours. It’s not like I haven’t checked in.”
“You’ve sent emails and called occasionally,” Dad pointed out.
His mom was sniffling, using her napkin to dab at her eyes.
It was everything he’d tried to avoid, and in the moment he cursed Big Tag for not being paranoid enough to foresee a time when one of his operatives would find themselves wrapped in plastic. It was quite well done. He couldn’t get any traction. His fingers were against his thighs, and he couldn’t use them to start making a dent in the wrappings.