Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
My jaw clenches, ignoring the boys. “Explain yourself.”
“Who do you think supplied her the drugs to fuck you up? She got you good, didn’t she?” Knox winks, and as the words get caught in my throat, he roars loudly, shoving me hard and making me stumble back into Cruz. Knox darts around the back of the tree and takes off at a sprint. “HELP. THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME.”
“Fuck.” Carver darts toward me and grips my arm and before I even know what’s going on, we’re tearing through the bushes at speeds my feet can’t even begin to keep up with.
“NO,” I demand, pulling back on Carver’s tight grip as the boys come up behind us, Cruz struggling with the pain that rocks through his body. “He’s getting away. We have to go back.”
Grayson pulls up on my other side, shoving a hand against my back and making me go faster. “It’s too fucking late. He’s gone. We missed our shot.”
“NO.”
“Get moving,” King snaps, barely dodging a branch that threatens to slice his face right open. “We’ll get him next time. He’s a fucking idiot. Finding him won’t be hard.”
“I—”
“No,” Carver cuts me off with a ferocious growl, tightening his grip on my wrist and pulling me faster. “He’s gone. Move the fuck on and run. We’re not getting locked up today.”
And just like that, I give up on the chase, and focus on saving myself, knowing that without a doubt, the boys will find him, and when they do, they’re going to make it right for all the people who were killed during the explosion and all their grieving families.
CHAPTER 31
Ice clinks into the bottom of my glass as Grayson refills my drink, doing everything he can to try and keep my mind off the shitty night we just endured.
A fucking car accident? Cruz was launched through the air and crash-landed against Carver’s Escalade. This shit just doesn’t happen. Not to mention that now Carver, Cruz, and I are all out of a ride.
The boys shrugged it off. They have insurance for this kind of shit and can get replacements at the drop of a hat, but losing my Ducati is a big freaking deal. Though, I know it’s technically not mine. Carver purchased it for me a lifetime ago and let me think I’d won it in some ridiculous bet. But that doesn’t change the fact that, for so long, my Ducati was one of my only lifelines. I was attached, and now it’s just … gone.
Don’t get me wrong, I can buy myself a new one now or Carver will have it replaced through his insurance, but it’s not the same. That bike suffered with me through some of the worst times of my life, and no matter what, was always right by my side, ready to take me away into a new world.
What’s worse than losing my bike? Losing Knox.
I fucked up.
The hot water of the Jacuzzi bubbles around my chest as I rest back against the side, the heaviness of the day weighing on my mind. “It’s all my fault,” I murmur, sipping at my drink.
Carver scoffs from across the courtyard, placing his phone down on the table and glancing up at me, the anger from my comment clear in his eyes. “It’s not your fucking fault.”
“Had I not fought so hard to destroy everything that Sam created, all those people from the ball would still be alive,” I argue, knowing just how fucked up that sounds.
Carver stands and leans onto the table, glaring at me. “Are you hearing yourself?” he spits. “Had we not gone and fucked up Sam’s operation, those four girls would still be there or fucking worse, and we sure as fuck wouldn’t have found that ledger. Because of what we did, victims like Maddison Atwell are free. So lose the freaking pity party. It is not your fault that assholes like Knox Delacourt can’t determine the difference between good and bad.
“Besides,” King adds, standing beside Carver. “I know it’s a fucked up way of looking at it, but I knew every single one of those people who lost their lives that night, and I can guarantee that every last one of them would have gladly given their lives to save the victims in that ledger.”
I give King a hard stare. “Seriously?” I grumble. “You’re going to look at this as a win-win situation.”
King groans and grabs his glass off the table. “You’re fucked in the head if you think that I look at any of this as a win,” he says while making his way toward the back door of my home. “No one in this situation is winning, not even the victims who are being saved because they’re going to have years of trauma ahead of them. All I’m saying is that sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, evil with evil, and sometimes, you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good.”