Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Bullshit,” Brax said. “How are you going to tell me everyone’s not out for themselves? You’re only with Powell here so you could get a cut of whatever his dad left because he couldn’t find the money without you.”
I shook my head but didn’t bother to argue. I knew how wrong Brax was, and so did Forrest. That was what mattered.
Forrest stuck his hand in mine and squeezed. I kept my focus on Brax.
“Dad was always out for himself,” he continued. “Ford screwed over his own brother to take his place. I figured Ford would help me get rid of you. But he went soft in prison.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “He told me you deserved better. Right. Whatever.”
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” I asked. I never truly understood the reason for Brax’s hatred. It wasn’t like I was the only sibling. There were ten of us for him to despise. “Why do you hate me so much? We could have died in that root cellar.”
I eyed the gun in his hand. I couldn’t imagine he planned to pull the trigger. Waiting for us to die from hypothermia was a distant death, one he could tell himself was an accident, a tragic prank. Shooting us was murder. I didn’t think Brax had that in him. Was the gun even real? He couldn’t have flown out here with a real gun. Could he?
He laughed. “Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? I wasn’t planning to kill you. Not then, at least. I just wanted to get you disinherited.” He grinned with glee. “Banned from all Sawyer property, sent away. Banished.” He paused again. “That would have been fucking fantastic.”
“You were barely home anyway,” I said. “Why did you care if I was around?”
“Because you—” He jabbed the gun in my direction.
I tried not to flinch, wanting to hear what came next, needing to know why.
“You took everything, and you weren’t even a real Sawyer. You were the fucking bastard child of that slut, Trina. Bad enough that Dad flaunted her all over town. People were still talking about it even after she died. And then we got you,” he said, venom dripping from his voice. “Such a perfect baby girl with your curls and your pink dresses. Mom loved you like you were her own. Always talking about what a little princess you were.”
His voice was bitter now, filled with resentment and anger.
“So beautiful and so sweet,” he continued in the same tone of voice. “Like you were better than me when you were trash, and no one but me could see it. And then you got older, and you were such a little shit. All the tantrums and drama, and still everyone loved you.”
I shook my head. He could have been describing himself. He’d been Darcy’s precious baby, her little prince. I was the only one who knew what an asshole he was. Everyone else had adored him when we were young. Apparently, not enough to stop him from hating me.
The gun shaking in his hand, he imitated a woman’s voice, his face twisted in a sneer. “Brax, why can’t you be nicer to Sterling? Brax, stop picking on Sterling.” Back to his regular voice, he said, “Like you deserved more than me. Her attention. Her love. And she could never see what a stupid waste of—”
“That’s enough,” Forrest cut in, moving between me and Brax’s gun.
Brax pivoted and leveled the gun on Forrest. I lunged forward, my only thought to get in between a bullet and Forrest, but Forrest’s arm shot out like an iron bar, stopping me in place.
“Don’t fucking move,” he said through the side of his mouth.
I curled my fingers into the back of his shirt and tugged, stepping backward, pulling Forrest with me, an inch at a time. If we could get to the trees…
Chapter Thirty-Seven
STERLING
“Don’t move,” Brax warned us again, “or I’ll pull this trigger and kill you both. Give me the account number.”
Easing out from behind Forrest’s protective stance, I asked again, “That’s all you want?”
“I want a lot of things,” Brax said. His eyes were cold now, devoid of any emotion. “Top of the list is to never see your face again.” He paused, “So, I figure, give me the money, and I’ll go. I’ll take off, forfeit the rest of whatever my inheritance is, and none of you will ever see me again.”
“If only it were that simple,” I said. “There isn’t any money, Brax.”
“What the fuck do you mean? How—”
“We were all wrong,” Forrest said. “It was a game. A puzzle he wanted me and my mother to solve. It was never about the money.”
“I don’t believe you,” Brax said.
He looked at the gun he had pointed at us, his eyebrows raising slightly as if he was surprised to see it in his hand. With a half shrug, he dropped his arm to his side.