Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I glance through the peephole, still on the fence about what I should do. For a while, there is no movement in the corridor, but then Rowan’s door opens by a few inches, and he glances toward my apartment through the gap. A moment later, he steps out, looking around as if there was someone after him, and he’s not only dressed in his camo jacket, boots and gloves, but also wears a massive backpack, and holds a duffel bag in his hand.
Fuck. He did see the mask and recognized it. And now he’s making a run for it.
It seems I won’t get to finish my lunch after all.
Chapter 10
Rowan
Everything was a lie, and this… stranger, this fucking monster who broke into my home a week ago, found his way in through the back door for reasons known only to him. Is he even really gay, or did he simply woo me because it was the easiest way to get to me?
God, I can’t believe I sucked him off last night, and while I’ve been riding a high at the time, I now feel disgusted with myself.
I’m so stupid. So naive. I’d clutched at the first crumb of affection thrown my way when I should have known he was too good to be true.
What if he’s friends with the fuckers who murdered my family and killing me is a sick test of loyalty? Well, whatever motivates him, I’m not going down without a fight.
Though an actual fight is my last resort because the first one, the most reasonable one, is to run.
With my survival bag in the backseat, a gun in my pocket, and a lump in my throat, I drive off, hoping the growing darkness will help, not hinder, my efforts to get away.
It’s not snowing, thank fuck, but I can’t risk him finding me, so instead of going down the most obvious route out of town, I take a small road that will take me to a motel I have long planned to stay at in a situation like this one. I hoped to never need my bug-out plan, but the past seems to have caught up with me, and I’m not taking any chances. The cops didn't put the people who murdered my family behind bars, and I don’t trust them to keep me safe. Not when Saint—or whatever the hell his real name is—hasn’t yet done anything I can prove.
It’s all on me, and while I only have so much money, I’m planning to make it count.
In a bout of fury, I slam my fist against the steering wheel and scream into the emptiness in my car. I feel sick when I think about last night. Was he getting off on the power he held over me? Does he enjoy toying with me like a cat would with a mouse?
I know this road well, but I’m still wary, because it’s covered with a thin layer of snow and I don’t want to hit any unfortunate animal.
I take several deep breaths that don’t help. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I thought I actually connected with someone for once, but turns out I’m all alone and in more trouble than ever I could have imagined. A raspy voice asks me if Mrs. Treville is Saint’s accomplice, but I dismiss that thought, since she’s been nothing but kind to me in the two years I’ve been her neighbor.
But it no longer matters, because I’m never going back to that town. Okay, maybe I will. Somehow. Eventually. I can’t afford to replace every single necessity I own or pay rent for two apartments. I’m so fucked.
The farmland gives way to a forest I often spend my days off in, but while this means I’m getting farther away from the man who now occupies both my dreams and nightmares, I remain tense, and my thoughts are scattered.
A faint light in the rearview mirror makes the hair on my nape bristle, but just as I’m about to dismiss my worries, this is a public road after all, the car starts gaining on me. In itself, that wouldn’t be so strange, since people have different ideas about road safety, but the closer he is, the harder my grip on the steering wheel becomes.
I can no longer deny it.
That’s Saint’s car.
Air gets stuck in my throat. My hands creak as they tighten on the steering wheel and despite knowing these are not the conditions for street racing, I hit the gas, praying to anyone who might hear me. God might have ignored my calls for help when my family was being butchered, but maybe this time he would intervene? But I can only go so fast on this dark, winding road, and if I hit a tree or roll, Saint could mete out whatever torture he sees fit.