Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Bending down, I get a partial glimpse of the man as he steals Cason’s phone from his pocket. The fear is paralyzing. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything.
My gaze moves to the vanity and I can see my reflection, but I can see the man’s too as he scowls down at Cason’s dead body and lifts his gun to his head.
Bang, bang!
The gun goes off and Addison jolts each time, her eyes closed tight and her hands pressing harder against her mouth.
My heart hammers, praying he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t matter if he did or not, because the man’s eyes reach mine in the mirror. Cold and dark, with wrinkles that show his age. He’s in the same black hoodie as the man I killed earlier, and I know this man is not one of my father’s men.
The attacks out there, I think they’re from my father. But the men who have made it to the safe house… they’re not.
He’s quicker than me, taking a large stride and grabbing me from under the bed. His grip on my left forearm is paralyzing and I nearly drop the gun. My back scratches against the underside of the wire bedframe and the pain forces a scream from me.
My finger is on the trigger and I can’t get it to go off. I pull it again and again.
“The safety.” Addison’s voice is hoarse, and the words pushed through clenched teeth.
He reaches down with his other hand, grabbing my other wrist and that’s when Addison rips the gun from me and fires. The heat from the barrel of the gun singes my skin and I scream from the pain.
Bang! Bang!
She pulls the trigger again and again as my left side falls to the floor with the man’s grip nonexistent.
I can hear Addison’s gasp and the clunk of the gun as the man’s dead white eyes stare back at me.
My hollow chest is gutted as I stare at him and then to the doorway. My heart beats too loudly to hear anything and I have to swallow and blink away the fear to grab the gun Addison dropped and point it at the door.
I lie half under the bed, half out, with a burn scorching my forearm and wait. Time passes quickly, as quickly as my blood races through my veins.
“He’s dead,” Addison whispers a painful truth. “I killed him,” she whispers.
“Shh,” I hush her, “Quiet!”
The pounding of my heart slows as I realize the man almost got me and she saved me.
“You saved me,” I whisper with tears in my eyes although I stare straight ahead.
“I killed him,” she says back in a harsh whisper.
It’s only then that I realize it’s silent once again. No gunshots. Not from outside and not a sound inside the house.
I listen closely and hear cars outside a few blocks down, but they aren’t rushed and the tires don’t squeal. Rising slowly, I nearly scream when Addison grabs my ankle.
“Fuck,” I barely get out the word over the harsh beat of fear in my chest.
“Is it safe?” Addison asks, and I tell her the truth, “I don’t know.”
It’s hard to contain terror, even when there’s no present danger. My gaze doesn’t leave the doorway as I crawl to the window. Even as I rise up slowly and pull the curtain ever so softly, I don’t dare take my eyes from the doorway for a few minutes longer.
No more gunshots and lights are on inside the houses that were black now. A car passes with its headlights and I see some men I recognize a street down.
“I think it’s over,” I whisper to her but still crawl to reach her. “Take the gun,” I put it in her hand and when she objects I tell her I’m taking the dead man’s gun.
“I’m going downstairs.” With my words, Addison’s eyes go wide and she grips my wrist with a bruising force. My breathing is still unsteady, and my heart doesn’t find a normal cadence either.
“I have to make sure it’s okay. I’m going to find Eli,” I tell her, and the mention of Eli seems to calm her down. Her cheeks are red, and tears still linger in her eyes.
“Stay here,” I whisper and put my hand over hers. I squeeze it once before leaving her, crawling past the dead man, and taking his gun with me. I don’t stand up until I’m past the door. Blood coats my pajama pants from where I crawled through it. Standing outside the door and staring at the stairwell, I breathe in deeply over and over, trying to calm myself.
Small shards of glass pierce my forearms and I pick them out, wincing as I do. The pain is nothing with all the adrenaline running through me, but still, I’m mesmerized by the bright red and the evidence of what we’ve just been through.