Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"Relax. I've got you."
"I can’t relax. Did you not hear me? My father is going to come! He’s going to come and when he sees what I’ve done my life will be over!!” Her lips tremble. Seeing her like this, so broken and hurt, makes me insane.
“I killed him. I’m a murderer. A murderer.” She’s hysterical, and it’s not even what she’s saying that makes me pause. It’s more the earth-shattering sobs of pain and anguish she releases between each sentence.
“You aren’t a murderer; you’re a survivor, and there is a difference. No one is going to judge you for protecting yourself, and that’s what this was, Ely. It was you protecting yourself. Do you hear me? You’re not a monster, or a murderer. You’re a survivor of a really shitty situation.” I gently rub my hand against her back to console her.
My gaze tracks outside the car, though. I need to figure out if what she’s saying is true.
The window is partially rolled down, and I yell through it to Lee. "Where’s Drew?”
Lee tips his head toward the door as Drew steps over the threshold and back outside. His face is tight, his mouth set in a grim line. Not good.
Looking back at me, he gives his head a little shake and then mouths the word, “Dead.”
It’s exactly the confirmation I need. I’m not mad. The fucker deserved it. I am, however, angry at myself that Elyse now carries this weight on her shoulders. She will be forever scarred by this day and what she had to do to survive, and there’s nothing I can do to ease the pain or guilt to follow. I know from experience. This changes things.
She finally settles on my lap, but her lithe body continues to tremble. There are droplets of blood on every inch of her exposed flesh, and her wet hair has soaked the ripped shirt she’s wearing. My shirt. Shit, she’s probably cold. Along with being traumatized.
She hasn’t told me what happened yet, but she doesn’t have to say anything, not with all the blood on her. If this wasn’t such a fucked up, dire situation, I might even tell her how proud I am, but something tells me it would make things a lot worse for her.
"Deep breath, Little Prey. Walk me through what happened. Tell me so I can help you," I keep my voice low, calm, even though inside I’m raging. There will be plenty of chances to express my anger in the future, but right now my biggest priority is her.
Peering into her blue eyes, I make note of the vacant look there. She’s so lost and broken right now, and it kills me because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her, how to ease her pain.
“I… I can’t. I can’t think about it. I can’t…” She lets out an earth shattering sob that squeezes my heart in a vice-like grip..
“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ve got you.” I gently caress her back, and she collapses against my chest, burying her face into the crook of my neck. I hold her tight to my chest, wishing I could mend all her broken pieces.
We’re still waiting for the guys. After a short while, I gently ease her away from my chest so I can inspect her a little closer. My fingers prod her neck, shoulders, and head, skimming over every inch of flesh.
I make note of a large knot on the back of her head, still oozing blood. She winces when I touch it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs stitches. Dr. Brooks will have to take care of that, though. Besides the head wound there are various bruises and cuts I believe came from our romp in the woods and not Yanov, and stupidly, that makes me happy. The joy is fleeting when I spot her arm hanging limply at her side. The entire appendage is swollen, all the way down to her fingertips.
Fuck. I hope it’s not broken. The urge to walk into that lousy motel room and rip Yanov apart threatens to drown me. It doesn’t matter if he’s dead. I’ll still take joy in dismembering his body piece by piece. It’s what he deserves, but it’s not happening. At least right now. It would be selfish to leave her here alone, dealing with the barrage of emotions. She needs me, needs my protection far more than I need vengeance on that fucker.
Twisting around, careful not to jostle her, I grab the gym bag from the back of the jeep and drop it into the seat next to us. I tug the bag open one handed and examine the contents. Workout clothes, towels. I grab a T-shirt, bring it to my nose, and inhale. It’s clean. No telling with Lee sometimes, though.