Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Something doesn’t feel quite right.
I’m floating in and out of consciousness, struggling to even exist at all. But despite the pain and heat taking over my body, I still fight my way back.
Back to somewhere other than the fiery pits of hell.
And when I open my eyes once more, I’m in a room with white and black walls, and beneath me is a bed drenched in sweat. My sweat.
So I’m alive, after all.
But the pain … God, the fucking pain is the worst.
I move my arms, but they refuse to obey, so I turn my head to look. There are chains around my wrists.
“Wow, look. He’s awake.”
The voice rips through me like a knife, and I immediately turn to look where it’s coming from. There’s a door right in front of me.
And in it stands a man dressed in all black.
The gun in his hand sets me off.
Violence overpowers me, and I growl out loud with both pain and fury as I throw every inch of strength I have into breaking these chains that keep me down.
“Oh, shit!” the guard yells. “Call for backup. Code red.”
But their voices sound dull against the shrieks in my head. Something is tormenting me, telling me to fight, fight, fight!
So I roar out loud and push myself off the bed and stomp at the guards.
“Stop him!” one of them yells. “N—”
I grab him by the throat and lift him into the air with ease, squeezing tighter and tighter until his eyes begin to bleed.
“You motherfucker!” the other guard yells, and he comes at me with a knife.
I grasp his wrist and twist it until he drops it, then bang his head into the wall until it cracks, then drop him like a fly.
He falls to the floor, blood spilling from his ears, while his buddy struggles to even breathe.
“Beast. Let go,” he groans.
But I can barely even hear him.
All I hear are shrieks. Over and over.
Fight. Fight!
A girl with a picturesque face, glossy red lips, and black hair like a midnight sea comes to mind. A picture waved in front of me through the bars of what was once my home. My prison.
A prison I shared with her.
Her words ring in my ears. Please, I don’t want you to die.
As I gasp for air, I release the guard’s throat, and he drops to the floor.
Aurora.
My eyes flash with memories that pass me by in an instant.
Her father, strapped to a chair, me about to shoot him. Instead, I pointed my gun at the guards. At my owner.
I killed almost all of them.
Just so she could save her father, the man who never really loved her, and escape.
Is she alive?
My fist tightens at the idea that my owner and his henchmen could’ve hurt her while I was out.
Could’ve … killed her.
BEEP!
The loudness of the sound coming from beneath me pulls me from my thoughts.
“Where’s the goddamn backup?! I need help, now!” the guard below me says with a squeaky voice. And when my eyes fall on him, he drops the walkie-talkie and crawls away from me. “No! Don’t hurt me!”
Suddenly, more noise up ahead forces me to look up.
Five more guards enter the hallway, pointing their guns at me.
I remember this.
I remember this same scene happening mere hours or days ago in that same fucking warehouse where I made her run.
Only that time, it was my owner pointing his gun at me.
My hand rises to touch my back. A thick bandage covers my chest from front to back, circling me.
I’m sure the bullet went through. I can feel the stitches. The caked blood. The pain.
God, the burning pain, even now. It’s like a hot poker being shoved right into my open wound. All because of them.
I march forward, eyes homing in.
“Stop!” the guards yell.
Or what? They’ll shoot?
I’m alive.
For a reason.
He kept me alive.
And now I’ll make him pay.
Frenzied, I stomp at them, and one of them blasts at my feet.
BANG!
I narrowly avoid the bullet.
The other one shoots right beside me, and the bullet ricochets into the wall.
They’re not aiming right, which tells me they’re inexperienced … or scared.
“No, no,” one of them yells. “Don’t get close!”
Suddenly, one of them steps forward and pushes a button in his hands.
The pain is instant, visceral, like literal lightning entering my skin. But when I touch my neck, there is no collar, nothing.
How? Why?
“Don’t you fucking move an inch, or I swear to God, I’ll turn it up to the max,” the guard says.
I groan in pain, suffering on the floor in agony, scratching at the back of my neck.
Something is in there, electrocuting me slowly.
And not just any kind of electrocution.
The worst, torturous pain I could ever imagine jabs me on all sides of my body.
I’ve felt pain before. But never this kind.
“Stop.”
His voice makes me look up even though it feels like my eyes almost bulge out of my skull from the sheer amount of pain.