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)
He’s alive.
He really is alive.
My heart flutters at the thought of seeing him again.
But then I remember Lex caught him, and my heart immediately sinks into my shoes.
What if they hurt him? Gave him so much pain his soul left his body?
What if he … gave up?
I swallow away the lump in my throat. I won’t know until I see him for myself.
But what if Lex doesn’t let me see him?
It would be just the kind of torturous thing he’d do just for fun.
“We’re here,” the driver says to the other guard, and the van stops.
After a few seconds, the door slides open, and I push myself off the floor to keep the guards from grabbing me but to no avail.
“No, don’t touch me!” I scream as they grasp ahold of my legs and step inside.
“Shut up!”
SMACK!
The punch to my face is ruthless and instantly makes my cheeks red with pain.
I’m momentarily stunned by the harsh treatment.
Dave takes it as an opportunity to release my cuffs and unhook me from the van. The guards drag me out and violently shove my hands behind my back, tying them up again. “Don’t fucking resist, or I’ll smack you even harder next time,” Dave says.
“You always hit defenseless girls?” I spit.
I don’t know, but I’ve gotten so much more ready to throw back insults after what they put me through. I guess seeing death right in front of you and having your own father basically disown you as his daughter changes you.
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to put a dirty sock in your mouth,” he growls, pointing at my face.
I imitate biting it off, and he immediately retracts his finger. “Goddamn filth.”
I throw him a stink-eye, but another guard shoves me. “Walk. Now.”
We go inside the mansion, the mere sight of the place making me cower in fear because I know all too well what happens inside. The door is already open, and a bunch of guards stare at me like I’m the cause of their misery.
“Where does Lex want me to take her?” one guard asks another.
“Lex is gone for the moment,” another guard replies. “He left me in charge.”
“Fine, where do you want her?”
“Down in the hole,” the other guard replies.
My eyes widen, and I mutter, “The hole?”
Dave hits me on the head. “Don’t fucking backtalk.”
The guards shove me around and into the hallway, back to that same door I recognize all too well. But there’s no sign of Lex anywhere, so I assume he’s really gone.
Why?
I gasp.
Did they find my father?
In my mind, the image of my father with a bloodied face, lying on the floor, begging for his life while Lex holds a gun to his head keeps appearing.
But the wreck of emotions that would’ve washed over me before are now dull. Muted.
I feel … very little.
Even though he used to be my papa. My father.
The man I used to look up to.
But now? There’s nothing but regret.
I’m shoved down into the basement again, waltzing down the steps with a heavy heart.
Until I spot Beast.
My heart skips a beat a the sight of him hanging by four thick, metal clasps screwed into the wall, his head tilted forward, his body almost lifeless. I can barely contain my emotions.
The guard pushes me forward and then opens the cell door. “Get inside.”
I do what he says without much resistance.
Not because I don’t want to fight them, I do, even when I know I’ll never win.
But because I want to see Beast myself, up close.
The guard quickly unlocks my hands and steps outside.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I don’t even notice the guard shutting the door and walking up the stairs. All I can focus on is the fact that he’s here in the flesh.
Even though he seems far from actually being alive.
“Beast?” I mutter, tears fluttering against my eyelashes.
His emerald eyes flash just the way they did the first time we met, when I was hiding underneath that piano, deathly afraid of what might happen to my father and me.
But now … now I’m simply relieved.
“Aurora …” he murmurs, raising his head to meet my gaze.
And I can no longer stop the tears from freely rolling down. “You … you’re really alive.”
Without thinking, I run to him and wrap my arms around his body to feel the warmth and comfort. Home.
He groans in agony, and I immediately pull back, gasping in shock that I actually did that. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t … hurt me.” His face is a mixture of calmness and pure and utter misery, as though he’s trying to give me the best version of himself despite his pain.
A thick bandage is wrapped around his chest, stained with blood. All he’s wearing is a pair of thin, linen lounge pants. His hands hang in the metal clasps, his body leaning forward as though his own body is weighing on him, gravity pulling him to the floor.