Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Ben Thomasson was banished after it came out that he bit Bailey, Cole’s human girlfriend during the full moon run.
Cole snorts. “Figures. That dick is too cocky to hide or lay low. No offense.”
I shake my head. Definitely none taken. My buddies have been subject to Winslow and Ben’s tyranny for as long as I have, which means all of our lives.
“What about Gone in Sixty Seconds?” Slade asks.
I shove him up against the lockers, my hand at his throat. “Don’t call her that.”
“Okay, take it easy, bro.”
I don’t want to let him go. I’d prefer to kill him. Just for mentioning her. For thinking about her.
Austin and Wilde each grab one of my arms and haul me back. “Dude. Chill. Will you chill?” Wilde gets his face right up to mine to growl the words.
I’d rather fight Slade. I’d rather fight them all.
But I probably won’t feel any better.
I go slack then shake them off. “I need a ride home,” I mutter.
“Why, did she steal your bike?” Cole scoffs.
I’m on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground. Cole is a mean motherfucker, especially with what’s been going on in his home the last couple of years, but that doesn’t stop me for a second. I want blood, and I want it now.
It takes Austin, Wild and Slade to pull me off him, and the whole time, they’re whisper shouting because Coach is in the locker room now and will bust all of our asses if he catches us fighting.
They end up sitting on me—Wilde on my chest, Austin on my stomach, Slade on my legs. They sit on me until my vision changes back to normal, and I sag in defeat.
“Did she really steal your bike?” Wilde asks mildly.
This time I don’t feel like fighting. I need my friends to help me understand what the fuck I’m navigating here. I nod.
Wilde whistles and climbs off me. The other two move and help me to my feet. “What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “I really don’t know.”
They all stare at me. I can’t imagine why I thought they’d be any help.
“Well… I can’t hurt her.” Can’t and wouldn’t. Not ever. “I guess I’m gonna go fuck her.”
It’s stupid and reductionist, but the moment I say it, I feel a hundred ton weight shift off my chest.
Like my wolf is celebrating that I’m going to her. That fucking her is still on the table. That I’m not walking away.
Cole thumps me on the back. “That will definitely fix it, dude.”
I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or real, but it doesn’t matter. The lightness has taken over my body. I need to see Sloane. Fuck her senseless as punishment.
Then figure our shit out.
It’s the only solution that makes any sense.
“Give me a ride to the shop,” I say to Wilde, pulling my backpack out of my locker and slinging it on my back. “I gotta get Winslow’s car to drive down to Cave Hills.”
My heart stutters as we pull up to the shop. My bike is parked in the back, and I scan the area like maybe she’s here, too.
I jump out of the Jeep and wave Wilde off, then run for the bike. The keys aren’t in the ignition. I search the saddle bag and find them, along with the envelope of money I got from Trey. And a note.
I’m breathing hard as I read it.
And re-read it.
Bring it to my nose to sniff it. I smell her tears. That shouldn’t be possible, but I swear it’s true. Sloane was crying when she wrote this.
She fucking loves me. Don’t erase my memories of you. I need them.
Everything snaps into place and becomes crystal clear.
She overheard about the memory wipe, so she ran. Who knows, maybe Winslow threatened her when they were alone, too. Yeah, knowing him, he probably did. And she’d been worried about me getting involved with her mafia problem.
So she cut me loose. She wasn’t being a cunt. She cared. Cares.
And she didn’t sell my bike. It was sweet of her to leave me a little of the money, too. Pocketing it, I get on my bike and start it.
If she thinks she gets to call the shots with me, she is sorely mistaken.
I drive to her aunt’s townhouse and go with the old-fashioned method of knocking on the door.
Her aunt answers the door, and I’m unprepared for the blast of tension that erupts from her. “Bo!” She looks past me. “Where’s Sloane?”
I look behind me, even though I know she won’t be there. “What do you mean? She’s not here?”
Her aunt bursts into tears. “She’s been missing since Saturday. I thought she was with you… she never came home, and now she’s not answering her texts.”
Shock flashes through me. Like in a horror film, where they play the sudden blast of screechy music.