Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Both King and Grayson watch me with sorrow-filled gazes before finally taking the few steps to the door and leaving me be until it’s just Cruz left staring, his heart so heavy on his sleeve that I fear it may fall off. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking in despair.
“I know,” I murmur, wishing I could just run straight into his warm arms and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but right now, I just don’t know if that’s true. “I just …”
“Time,” Cruz finishes for me.
I nod and his gaze drops to the ground, his heart completely torn apart by not only his own betrayal and guilt, but my rejection and inability to just put it behind me.
He walks out of my room and takes my heart right along with him before I remember who the fuck I am and straighten my back.
Knowing that we’re pressed for time, I get busy changing into my combat gear, pulling my clothes into place, tying my hair up into a slicked-back long ponytail and pocketing a black bandana that will eventually be wrapped around my face, just below my eyes.
Goodbye, weak bitch.
Hello Tomb Raider—Winter style.
CHAPTER 10
My combat boots clunk against the stairs, descending into my living room like a warrior into hell. My slow steps give the guys a moment of warning to brace themselves before having to face me again.
I’m almost drunk on the power. I have those bitches shaking in their boots, at least, I’d like to think that I do. In reality, nothing scares them, especially not me.
I make it to the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the holes in the walls, the shattered glass, and all of my parents’ broken possessions that lay discarded at my feet, evidence of the raid that Paris initiated. She will make up for it, even if it means picking up every single piece of shattered glass with her bare fingers.
Carver’s home was destroyed only a few short weeks ago and I really feel for him, but now, I feel it on a much higher level. I feel his pain, understand the torture of having someone else in your home, tearing it down with malicious intent. It fucking sucks, but I’m a big girl now. I have bigger fish to fry. All that matters now is getting those kids back home to the safety of their mother’s arms. We’ll deal with the rest after, and we won’t stop until it’s done. Besides, I kinda got the better end of the deal when it comes to comparing mine and Carver’s home situation. At least I still get to call my home my own. Carver’s bitch of a mother took it upon herself to move into his trashed house, leaving us with yet another mess to clean up.
I can’t wait to shove it to that woman. Every time I think of her, I can picture the way her face twisted in disgust when she threatened to kill any unborn child that Carver and I may have in the future. I remember it so clearly, it was right before she threatened to slit her son’s throat if I were to speak a damn word of our hushed conversation. She’s fucking awful. When you take both of Carver’s parents and smoosh them together, you don’t expect the result to be someone as incredible as Dante Carver. It’s a miracle that he turned out so well. You know, when he’s not trying to blow up his girlfriend.
My hand curls around the end of the railing as I hit the bottom step and I swing myself around to face the living room. I see all four of the guys busily getting themselves ready, shoving guns into holsters and tightening straps as blueprints are being spread out on the table.
I rush into the room, pissed off for taking so long to get myself ready. Clearly I’ve missed something. “What’s going on?” I demand, jogging toward the table and glancing over Cruz’s shoulder as he points out something on the blueprints, though I won’t even pretend to know what I’m looking at. Blueprints really aren’t my area of expertise, especially when I don’t even know what the blueprints are for.
“We got them,” Grayson says, stepping in beside me and glancing down at the blueprints as he continues loading himself with weapons. “They’ve been right under our fucking noses this whole time.”
“What?” I rush out, my eyes wide as my head snaps up to his. “What do you mean?”
“Paris has them stashed in one of Dynasty’s underground bunkers, not even a fucking mile from here.”
My eyes bug out of my head, but I don’t get another word in as King’s warm hand curls around my elbow and yanks me back away from the table. He doesn’t skip a beat, grabbing a utility belt and strapping it around my waist. “Are you fucking sure about this?” he questions, his tone harsh and straight to the point, leaving absolutely no room for me to get a read on his emotions, though something tells me that will all change once we have his brother and sister back. The groveling will start after that. “Once we bust in there, there’s no going back. Bullets will be flying at your fucking head. Do you understand that? If you get yourself in trouble, you’re on your own. We all have a fucking job to do. Grayson won’t be babysitting you this time. So which is it? You’re either going to stand on your own, or you’re going to be a fucking liability.”