Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Today is a chance for a fresh start. I’m going back to school now knowing everything there is to know and I can finally start to put it all behind me and focus on my future. You know, apart from the whole ‘who killed my father and Charles’ thing, not to mention that I still don’t know why the Widows’ mark was on the front of that folder.
I showed up at the warehouse demanding answers—though so many were revealed—one massive question still burns the back of my mind despite all that's happened to distract from it.
Why was that mark on the folder? Nic confirmed that my dad was a Wolf, and a fucking bad one at that. He told me how my father had sold me to pay a debt with Charles Carrington but none of that actually explains why their mark was on the folder.
Hell, I even asked Kian if he was responsible for killing my father and he was adamant that he and his Widows didn’t lay a finger on him, and for some reason, I trust that. The look in Kian’s eyes told me that he would have loved to be the one to do it. He would have taken pleasure in ending Louis Munroe’s life, and hell, he even looked a little pissed that he didn’t get to be the one to do it. Kian was the kind of man to boast, he would have sung it from the rooftops, and had my father been as important as Nic and Kian made him out to be, he would have made sure that every last person knew it was him. He would have worn my father’s murder like a trophy.
I let out a frustrated sigh, unanswered questions only mean one thing—there’s a trip to Breakers Flats in my near future, but I can assure anyone who asks, that it will be done far, far away from Nic.
I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, he’s so … possessive. It’s borderline obsessive and I don’t think I have room for that shit in my life. I don’t understand it. Nic has been so chill since we broke up six months ago. There have been plenty of random hookups at parties and he’s never said a word, never really cared. He would always pop in to remind me that he was my end game and I’d smile and nod which would satisfy that wildness within him, but things are changing. I think he can sense that whatever this thing is with Colton is something real and now that it’s suddenly official, he sees me slipping further away and he’s aiming all that frustration at me.
I wonder if he even realizes just how crazy he sounds when he comes over here and demands that I go home with him? Does he realize that he’s losing it? Losing me?
As for my boys, they’re just as much a mystery to me. Not only have they been lying to me about who I really am, but they’re allowing Nic to get away with that behavior. If anything, they’re encouraging it. It was only a short time ago that had Nic even thought about leaving a bruise on my skin, the boys would have annihilated him. It doesn’t make sense to me anymore. Do they not care about me like they once did? Hell, did they even care about me at all?
I don’t get it. Everything is changing and right now, we’re in this place of unknown and I hate it. I hate not knowing what’s going through their minds. I’ve always been so in sync with the four of them but right now, I’ve never felt so far away.
I promised myself that after that night, I’d never go back there again. I said that I was done with them, but now that the anger has worn off, I really don’t know where I stand. One thing is sure, things between me and Nic will never be the same. Hell, maybe after last night’s dungeon activities, I have a deeper understanding of their darkness and I’ll slip right back into where I’ve always belonged. After all, I’m just like them now, just like my father. They should be so proud.
“Ocean?” My mother’s concerned tone tears through my bedroom and my eyes snap up to realize that I’ve just been sitting here for who the hell knows how long, completely lost to the torture of my own mind. Mom steps into my room, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s wrong, honey? Something seems … off?”
I can’t help the scoff that travels up my throat and sounds loudly through my room, an instant confirmation that something has been going on. “It’s nothing, Mom. You don’t need to worry.”
She steps further into my room and it’s almost as though some kind of possessed spirit enters her body. “Oceania Elaine Munroe, you tell me what’s been happening with you this very minute before I force it out of you.”