Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
“I’m aware.” He nods. “But this one tells a different story.” He presses play once more, and this time, there is no audio.
But I can see it all play out in front of me like a scary movie. Only it’s not scripted. It’s real.
My breathing picks up as I clench my hands. “No,” I manage to say, shaking my head, not believing my own eyes. It ends, and the TV shuts off.
I realize I’m shaking when a hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump back.
“Son,” he says. “Remember the conversation we had at my home the other day?”
I nod. It’s all I’m capable of.
“You know what to do, then?”
Another nod.
“You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”
ASHTYN
I’m sitting on my bed, an empty bottle of wine in my hand watching a documentary about a serial killer who murdered over fifty people in a ten-year span. My first thought is that he’s a Lord. To get away with that many murders in this day and time? They have to know who he is, where he’s been, and who his victims are.
That tells me they’re letting him get away with it. Or maybe the detectives on the case are the Lords and they’re told to stay one step behind. Either way, someone involved has the Lords crest branded on their chest.
I turn the channel, and it’s the news. I sit up when I see a brunette on it. Another missing girl. She’s nineteen and just started her freshman year at college. Her mother last saw her for lunch three days ago. Her mother called her that evening, and she never returned it. The girl’s car was also abandoned and empty, with the driver’s side door open.
It shows her mom and dad at a press conference. They’re holding up a picture of her. The mother is too distraught to speak while the father pleads for her to come home. If someone has her to just let her go. I hate it for them. For her. But a part of me wishes I had a family like that. One that would care if I went missing. Instead, my family will toss me to the side when I don’t do what my body is “required” to do.
My door opens, and I look over to see Saint enter my room. It’s been three days since I saw him. No call, no text, nothing. Which tells me one thing—he’s been at Carnage.
My father does the same to my mother. Goes off the grid. Then he comes home, and she yells at him until he leaves again. God, that has to be such a miserable life. Always so unhappy or having to fake it. No wonder she hates it so much.
“What do you want, Saint?” I ask, lifting the wine bottle to my lips, but I frown when I’m reminded it’s empty.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Fuck, he looks delicious. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and combat boots with a black leather jacket, which tells me he rode his bike over here. He’s got a hat on backward that his dark hair peeks out from underneath. I hate that he’s seen me naked, yet I haven’t seen him.
“How drunk are you?” he asks flatly.
I frown, wondering if he’s mad at me, and that’s why he’s ignored me. What happened to our three weeks of training? I’ve been looking forward to being tied up and forced to come all over myself. “Not drunk enough.” I toss the bottle on the floor, and it rolls along my white carpet until he places his boot out to stop it. I mean, really what else is there to do?
His eyes drop to the empty bottle and then rise to meet mine. “Looks like you’ve had more than enough to me.”
I get up off the bed, and he looks over my bare legs. All I have on is an oversized T-shirt. It’s his. I’ve had it for several years. He left it at my parents’ one night after he and his friends came over when my brother had a swimming party. I’ve never worn it around him until now.
Reaching down, I grab the hem and pull it up and over my head, tossing it to the side. He arches a brow at me. I’ve become quite comfortable with being naked around him in the past week and a half. When the man you’re in love with strips you naked, ties you down, and gets you off with a vibrator between your legs while he stays fully dressed, you no longer have the urge to cover up your body. And then add the times he’s stripped you in front of his friends…He was right; modesty no longer matters.
“Ashtyn.” The way he growls my name was meant as a warning, but all it does is make me shiver with anticipation.