Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
There’s a door set in the house’s foundation, half covered by ivy. The hinges squeal when one of the guards opens it, and when I peer inside, I see there’s nothing beyond it but a set of stairs leading down into inky darkness. There isn’t enough room for the three of us to walk side-by-side so one guard stands in front of me and the other behind me, giving me no choice but to descend and face my fate.
The cell they shove me into is small and cold. The kind of cold that seeps into a person’s muscles and bones. I’ve gone from one cell to another. Lucky me.
“Can I get something to drink?” My question goes unanswered. The men walk away on heavy feet, leaving me alone down here with nothing but silence as company. Well, I’m used to being alone.
Iron bars separate me from freedom, though my captivity could be worse. Compared to New Haven, this is a four-star hotel. A sink, a toilet, a cot. Not everybody has a small prison in their basement, complete with plumbing.
I drop to the cot, which is only about a hundred times more comfortable than that shitty excuse for a mattress at New Haven. I might be a prisoner, but I’m afforded a little bit of dignity.
What’s the endgame here? Now that I’m locked up, there’s the question of what comes next. Why keep me prisoner? What do I need to do to get out? Do they ever plan on letting me out?
New footsteps, and this time they aren’t so heavy and plodding. I sit up and face the bars with my hands gripping the mattress. The footsteps get closer. Two pairs.
It’s one thing to know Q hates me for everything I’ve done. I can handle that—I knew this was how it would end up. I followed River’s orders because it was more important to get revenge on the man who let Rebecca live than it was to honor my history with the Rossi family. She should’ve died so all the evil could die with her, but Xander let her slip through his fingers. That much, River and I always agreed on.
It’s the way Q is looking at me that’s tough to swallow. I don’t expect his forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it unless I know I’ll get it. I’m not going to throw myself at his feet and beg.
Xander clears his throat, standing with his hands folded in front of him. “Thanks to you, we were able to get Scarlet out of there.”
“Thanks to you, she was there in the first place,” Quinton growls. As if I’m the one who abducted her. Like I touched the whip to her back.
The thought of her back makes me ask, “How is she? I wasn’t really able to get a good look at what they did.”
That’s all it takes for Xander’s face to darken while his eyes go hard. “She’ll get over the physical pain.” I know what he’s trying to say without putting it into words. She won’t get over the emotional part of it so easily. Or at least that’s what he thinks. I know she is much tougher than he believes.
“Somebody kicked the shit out of you,” Q observes, smirking as he looks me up and down. He sounds pretty happy about it.
“Yeah. That came after I called you.” I touch a hand to my left cheek, where it stings, thanks to a punch somebody gave me back there. Now that I am in full light, the dried blood on my knuckles is an ugly reminder of what happened tonight.
He growls. “It wasn’t as much as you deserve.”
“Enough,” Xander mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “There are other visitors here to see you. I’ll give you a minute to wash up there at the sink. I don’t want your mother or sister seeing you this way.”
Mom. Luna. Shit. As glad as I am to see them, I know what they must be thinking. Obviously, they were already here. They couldn’t have shown up this soon after my arrival otherwise. What has Xander told them? How much do they believe?
He’s right about one thing. I don’t want them seeing me like this. I wash up quickly, not stopping until the water in the sink is clear instead of a murky brownish red. I run my wet hands through my hair, hoping to settle it down a little. By the time I’m finished, there are quick, soft footsteps coming down the hall that runs in front of the cells. I can hear my sister’s short, breathless gasp before I see her. She takes hold of the bars, gripping them tight enough for her knuckles to stand out light against her skin.
Before she can say anything, she’s cut off. “Luna.” Dad’s voice is sharp. I don’t know why he’s scolding her or whether he thinks I’m dangerous. I only know her face falls before she looks at the floor. Mom and Dad join her, with Dad keeping an arm around Mom’s waist. She’s leaning against him, one hand on his chest, and her face crumples when our eyes meet.