Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
My blood turned cold.
She was telling him.
Now
“You’re thinking back, aren’t you?” the girl asks. If we didn’t land soon, I was about to jump. Deacon has long since fallen asleep, or died, and the moments that pass now are numbered. Numbered because I have a choice to make. Would I continue as if I don’t know everything that there is to know about what the fuck is happening here, or do I kick this bitch back into her place and remind her exactly who I am? But then, who is she… How is she of importance? She has to be someone, because you can’t be a no one and be here.
“Actually, no. I’m thinking about my grandfather and someo—” I study her closely. Her long, sea-green hair and brilliant blue eyes. The only time I get a glimpse of her features is when the light above us flickers on.
I leave it there. I shouldn’t talk. I know better.
Deacon groans again. Good. He’s not dead. If he does ever die, I’d prefer it to be me who’s holding the opposite side of the knife. Since he is the idiot who almost ruined everything.
“None of us remember our grandfathers. You’re not one of us,” she whispers sadly.
My back rests against the chair. I need to focus. It isn’t supposed to go down this way. There is a method to the madness that we need to follow, but somewhere down the line, something happened, and now we’re here. With Deacon almost dead, Katsia putting on the show of her life, and the most important people in the world to me none the wiser. I know Katsia will feed them some bullshit line about how I’ll be back and that I’m not in danger. She is good at that. Lying. Almost as good as I am.
The chopper landing jerks me from my nap. I must have only been out no more than half an hour, but it was all I needed. The whirling of the engines dies as I rub the sleep from my eyes.
When I turn to Deacon, I notice his wounds first. Thread has now closed the long cut down the middle of his chest. I don’t look up at the girl as she packs her kit away, afraid that if I do, I’ll get too close.
Maybe she’s also a nurse.
My fist lands on Deacon’s arm with force I know will bruise. “Get up.”
“Ouch!” he whines, his palm resting where I hit. “Everything fucking hurts. Could you not?”
The doors fly open, and my eyes sting from the sun. A couple of shadows stand in front of us, and I shade my head to block the rays.
“You made it.”
The grumpy mumbles of every cuss word known to mankind don’t go unnoticed as my arm hooks Deacon’s. “Just. And by the way, he almost didn’t. Since you thought it would be a great idea to drop him in the middle of a shoot-out.”
One of the shadows steps forward. “We didn’t know what was happening on Perdita when we did that, my little hellhound.”
Breathing out a sigh, I help Deacon to his feet while ignoring the girl who is opposite. “Well, it’s fine. Katsia is handling the boys, so I’m sure they’ll be too busy trying to figure out who this idiot is, and hopefully think he’s with, well, them." I don’t want to touch on the way I felt when I saw Deacon slumped in that chair in Katsia’s office. Even if she was working on trying to wake him in a panic as soon as I had entered. I hate that I felt it. I felt his pain as if it were my own. The crippling fear that he was dead tore my spine out of my back and had me almost losing consciousness.
Stupid fuck.
I direct Deacon down the steps, the metal ramp complaining beneath our weight. “I hate you. I hope you know that. I should kill you for almost getting killed, Deacon.”
“I love you too.” With his eyes closed, the hint of a grin on the corner of his mouth shows more life in him than I’ve seen since finding him that way.
As soon as my feet touch the grass, I inhale the scent of burning herbs and freshly cut grass. The building that’s almost complete sits near the cliff. Inspired by neoclassical architecture, it demands to be seen as soon as you set foot on the tarmac. There’s a rotunda beehive that peaks up to the sky in the middle, with stained glass windows and garden beds growing from the ceilings. It’s not finished yet, but it’s close. It has been years since it was started.
“Who’s all here?” Deacon collapses all his weight in my arms. This time I let him fall to the ground with a thud. I glare down at him. “You truly are so unimpressive. Seriously. Pull your shit together.”