Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Like I’m already forgotten.
Like she’s already forgotten me.
I get into my car and grip the wheel, my breath coming in sharp, controlled exhales.
She left me.
Even as my gut screams that something isn’t right.
Even as my body shakes with the urge to hunt for her.
Are they right?
Is it the right thing to let her go?
Beast wars with priest.
My car ultimately takes me home, though, if only in case she comes back to me.
But when I walk in the door, apart from the cat, the house is horribly, hauntingly empty.
FORTY-FIVE
MOIRA
I come to in total darkness, my head throbbing like I spent the night downing tequila shots and banging my head against a brick wall. Well, the last thing I remember is downing a margarita, a bunch of shots, and then a beer, but I don’t recall a brick wall.
Annnnnd there’s the little fact that my arms are yanked behind my back, plastic zip ties biting into my wrists, and my butt is aching from a cold, hard concrete floor.
Oh. Right. I got kidnapped.
There’s a groan next to me. Then a muttered, “Fucking hell.”
Mads.
I exhale sharply, my own breath hot under the fabric covering my face. We’ve been hooded. Fucking fantastic. That’s a great sign.
“Mads? You alive?”
“Unfortunately.” A beat of silence. Then, “Moira. You absolute disaster of a human being. This is one hundred percent your fault.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, my fault? You were the one dragging me down the street like we were late for the fucking Oscars!”
“Yeah, because I was trying to save your life!” she hisses. “Jesus Christ, I tell you to break up with your priest, and instead of listening like a reasonable person, you drop that little bombshell—Oh, by the way, we got married—and the next second, we’re getting thrown into a goddamn van!”
I roll my shoulders, testing the zip ties. No give.
“That had nothing to do with this! Nobody even knows about that. He made sure the marriage certificate was confidential so it’s not a matter of public record.”
Not that I understood why at the time, but now I’m starting to get it. “Nobody would have even known I was with him. This is about that stupid paparazzi picture because you had to go smoke a stupid fucking cigarette when you knew there were fucking photographers around!”
Mads lets out a strangled noise. “Oh, fuck you, Moira. Fuck. You. I should’ve left you there. I should’ve just walked away and let you handle your own goddamn mess.”
I snort. “Uh-huh. Because you were the one who got dragged into my bullshit, not the other way around?”
“Oh my God, I hate you.” She shifts against the floor. “Where even are we?”
I tilt my head, listening. No city sounds. No people. Just the faint hum of industrial lighting and the drip-drip-drip of something that better be water. “Warehouse, maybe? Basement? Definitely somewhere creepy and murder-y.”
Mads sighs. “Fabulous. Just how I wanted to spend my night. Tied up next to you in a discount horror movie set.”
“Would you rather they knocked you out again? Because I could start screaming and see if they come back.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Then shut up and let me think.”
“Oh, great, Moira’s gonna think. This is already going so well,” Mads mutters.
I shake my head. “Why didn’t you go running to your billionaire fiancé? Domhnall could have an entire army of mercs to protect him and you.”
Silence. A tense, angry silence.
Then I get it. “Oh shit, this is too big for even Domhnall to fix, isn’t it? But at least he could’ve tried.”
“And ended up with us all dead if any little thing got fucked up? No! I won’t risk him.” Then she growls, “You’re the idiot who fucked the son of the richest man in the world. So fuck you.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
She groans. “Okay, well, whatever your big plan is, I assume it involves some level of stupidity.”
I inhale deeply. “Oh, absolutely.”
“Of course it does,” she mutters. “This is really working out great for both of us. Just stellar planning all around. I love being tied up in a murder basement. Best day ever.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I take another deep breath. “Okay. This is gonna suck.”
“What?” Mads asks, immediately suspicious.
“I’m dislocating my thumb.”
“The fuck you are!”
“Too late!” I grit my teeth, inhale, and yank my wrist at just the right angle. A sharp, hot bolt of pain shoots up my arm as my thumb pops out of its socket. I swallow the scream trying to claw its way out of my throat. “Oh, motherfucker—”
“Oh my God, I think I’m gonna puke,” Mads gags next to me. “What the fuck, Moira?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a better idea?” I hiss, blinking away tears. “Or do you just wanna keep lying here like a useless sack of shit?”
“You’re insane.”
“That’s rich coming from you, Splitzy. And look, I’m the only one escaping.” I flex my now-looser hand, grit my teeth, and work my fingers, slipping them through the zip tie one by one. It’s slow. Agonizing. But then—