Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Why isn’t anyone stopping this? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?
As it turns out, I can’t do anything either. Because I come crashing against something. A metal fence kind of thing that runs all around the ring. And just when I decide that I’m going to fucking climb over it even though my climbing skills aren’t anything to write home about, someone grabs my arm from behind.
It’s Ledger.
I know he’s saying something, clearly something related to me running away from him when he’d specifically told me and Tempest not to. But I don’t care and I don’t even hear him, my eyes glued to the horror that’s happening in the ring.
Neither do I hear a couple of other guys, one of them with tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of his suit jacket, who arrive only moments later and are now engaged in a conversation with Ledger. I think that tattooed guy is someone important and I hear Ledger calling him Ark or something.
But whatever.
Ark can go suck it. Ledger too and all these other people who are trying to stop me.
Frustrated and angry and scared out of my mind, I call out, “Reign. Reign!”
I don’t have a lot of hope that he’ll hear me over the ruckus and I’m ready to call out even more loudly. I’m ready to bring down the roof, the walls, the fucking sky, for him.
But Jesus Christ, he does hear me.
Like always, my voice somehow reaches him and his gaze flies over at me.
The force of his reddish-brown eyes is such that I draw back slightly.
I start to struggle even harder in Ledger’s hold now that he’s looking at me with a confused frown.
Then his eyes shift.
They go to something above me, at which point his entire face changes. It goes all taut and angry and even deadly. And then with muscles and veins and emotions pulsing on his face, he jerks back and snaps out of the hold.
Oh, thank God.
In only a matter of seconds after that, Reign’s pushing his opponent onto the ground and punching and smashing the guy’s face on the concrete. And a few seconds after that, the guy’s smacking his hand on the ground and yielding.
The bell rings and Reign’s eyes come back to me and, panting, he stands up with a clear intention.
Of coming to me.
My breaths cease to exist when, taking the tape off and wiping his mouth, he begins to charge toward me.
Just hurry, please.
Without breaking eye contact, he jumps over the ring and lands with a kind of thud that I think vibrates the earth beneath my feet.
It definitely vibrates in my belly.
And then he’s standing before me, his eyes dark and stormy, his body sweaty and blood-splattered, breathing wildly. Then, shifting his gaze over my shoulders, he spits, “Stop touching her.”
That vibrates in my belly too.
His deep growl.
That I realize is intended for Ledger, who lets go of my arm instantly.
And raises his palms up in a gesture of peace for a second before flipping Reign off.
He doesn’t care though.
Because he has other important things to do.
Like leaning over me.
My body arches up on its own, my hands grabbing hold of his shoulders, even though I have no idea of his intentions. I still don’t understand what he means to do when his hands come to my waist and hold on.
Not until my feet are leaving the floor and a gasp is flying out of my mouth, do I get what he’s trying to do.
He’s trying to pick me up and throwing me over his shoulder, turning my world upside down.
Before he begins to walk.
Carrying me over his shoulder like a gladiator’s victory prize.
I watch as we leave the fighting arena and go through a narrow hallway. We pass by doors on doors, all made of steel and gray-colored, until we stop at one and go inside. The moment he hits the lights, illuminating a row of dark gray lockers and a bunch of bunk beds, I’m being turned over again and put down on the ground.
Or rather made to sit down on something solid, probably made of wood, with my legs dangling. And he’s face to face with me again. His undulating chest and his stormy eyes.
“Y-you picked me up and… and carried me,” I whisper the obvious, my hands still gripping his biceps.
“Because you were trying to jump over that railing.”
“I-I was trying to get to you. I was —”
“And you can’t jump over anything for shit.”
“That’s not —”
“What are you doing here?” he asks angrily, various cuts and scrapes pulsing over his face.
My hands travel up and go to his jaw, trembling. “You’re bleeding.”
He grabs both my wrists, pulling them away from his face. “What the fuck are you doing here, Echo? How the… How did you even know I was here?”
“Your bruises were healing. They were getting better and fading and —”