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)
“Sorry,” I murmur, looking up at the damage I’ve caused. “I was trying to get rid of the evidence.”
“It’s alright, Jade. It’s nothing I can’t fix.”
I find a silk robe and pull it on, dropping the towel in the hamper. “How did you know I was down there?” I question as Colton grabs a towel of his own and quickly dries off before wrapping the towel around his narrow waist.
“My mom,” he admits with a cringe. “She came to tell me about your little … run in. She mentioned that she’d sent you down to Dad’s personal wine cellar and the second the words came out of her mouth, I ran.”
I cringe. “I forgot about that bitch,” I say, not in the mood to mask my opinion of his mother, though, from his carefree response, I’d dare say his opinion isn’t too far from mine.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “But don’t worry, knowing her, she’ll be gone in no time.”
I nod and let out a breath, trying my hardest to file all this bullshit away in my brain and not allow it to continue eating me up. “So, Spencer?” I ask as Colton reaches for the door handle and opens it for me. “He knew about this the whole time?”
Colton nods and I stop in the middle of the open doorway to look up at him. “That phone call you made after Jude … in your room. You called Spencer just before I passed out.”
He nods again. “He helped me move him.”
“And Charlie?” I question. “I’m assuming he doesn’t know seeing as though he keeps trying to find him?”
“Yeah, Charlie … he’s too good. He has a kind heart. This shit would destroy him.”
“And when he finds out?”
Colton sighs and slips his arm around my waist before leading me out of the bathroom and up the hall, both of us desperately ignoring the drops of blood that lead the whole way back to the wine cellar. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Chapter 3
The early morning sun beams through Colton’s bedroom window as I stare up at the ceiling, just as I’ve been doing for the past twelve hours. Neither of us has slept as the heaviness of yesterday afternoon weighs on our hearts, bodies, and minds.
The emotions, the fear, the unknown—they’re all so real and I have no idea how to handle it. One part of me wants to run through this stupid mansion screaming at the top of my lungs, tearing my hair out, and searching for the goodness that I lost while the other part wants to go down to the wine cellar dungeon and finish the job. At least that way I know it would be over, but I’ll be condemning myself to a lifetime of guilt that’s bound to have me turning myself in and spending my days behind bars.
I can’t do that to myself. I can’t allow Jude to win. It seems that no matter what decision I make, he’s always going to get the better of me. Just like he did the night he raped me, just like every time I’m alone in a dark room and the fear cripples me when I see his face, and just like he did yesterday. No matter what I do, Jude is always going to win.
How am I supposed to get through every day knowing that my rapist is in the same house, breathing the same air and getting to live? I should have ended him, made it easier for myself to breathe. Fuck the guilt. I would have found a way to live with it. I should have slit his … fuck.
Who am I?
I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I guess Nic and the boys will be proud. I’ve finally come to the dark side. There’s no need for them to keep their dirty little secrets anymore because now there’s no goodness left to protect. I’m just like them.
Colton held me all night just as I knew he would but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve the happily ever after that he wants to offer me. How could he even want that after what he saw? I don’t doubt that he’s been processing it all night and soon enough, he’s going to start pulling away. It only makes sense.
What kind of man wants to be with a woman who’s going to murder him when he fucks up? Burnt the dinner? Get an ass-whooping. Forget to do the dishes? How about a puncture wound? Look at another woman? Would you like a side of slit throat with your pasta?
Fuck this. I couldn’t really be capable of being such a monster, could I? If Colton hadn’t walked in … yeah, I would have done it and I would have paid for it for the rest of my life. Colton may have saved me from myself yesterday, but exactly how much did I lose in the process?