Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
As I reach inside the machine for the Snickers, the elevator doors open behind me and reflected in the glass I see Otto step out. Panic sweeps through me, and I avert my eyes, certain he will notice me if I look at him in the reflection. I hold my breath and break out in a sudden sweat as I wait for his hand on my shoulder. But he doesn’t see me. In fact, he walks straight past me without even a second glance and disappears down the corridor.
When he’s far enough away, I quickly step behind the public telephone on the wall.
I can’t see where he went, but I know where he’ll be going.
Bronte’s ward.
I grab the phone and dial 911, hastily telling the operator to send help before rushing off, not even bothering to hang up. I bolt down the hallway toward Bronte’s ward because I know this isn’t going to end well.
The nurse’s station is empty because there is a Code Red in one of the other rooms, and I don’t have time to find anyone else to help.
It’s okay. The prospect will stop that bastard from hurting her, I think as I run, but my steps feel so slow and clumsy while my mind bombards me with all sorts of scenarios that don’t end well. When I finally reach Bronte’s room, the prospect isn’t lingering at the door like he’s supposed to be. Where the fuck is he?
Terrified for Bronte, I burst into her room and surprise Otto, who’s pressing a pillow over her face. Without even thinking, I launch myself at him, but he’s huge and too damn strong, and I’m no match for him. But in our struggle, he does let go of the pillow covering Bronte’s face to fight me off.
With a growl, he flings me to the floor, and I skid across the linoleum like a ragdoll, stopping with a thud against the unconscious body of the prospect. He’s out cold, with blood seeping from a broken nose and bloody drool dripping from his mouth.
I don’t have time to check if he’s alive or not because Otto stalks toward me, his hands fisted, his face murderous.
He’s going to kill me.
So, I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “I’m pregnant.” And he stops walking like he’s hit a brick wall.
He looms above me like a tower of muscle, his bald head gleaming like some sort of orb beneath the fluorescent lighting. “Is it my baby?”
I hate the sound of his voice.
I hate the look on his face.
It makes me want to stab him in the throat.
I slowly climb to my feet, careful to keep my eyes glued to his, and all the pain he inflicted on me during my captivity comes rushing back until my mind is polluted with nothing but the hideous memories of what he did to me. The control. The possessiveness. The abuse. The need to break my spirit. The violation of my body, night after night.
I’m not scared.
I’m furious.
No, I’m beyond furious.
The intense lust for vengeance flows through me like a freight train, and I’m ready to make him pay for every single thing he has ever done to me.
He needs to know he failed.
That I’m not broken.
That he never came close to making it happen.
I despise him.
And I want him to feel just how much.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Knowing that your disgusting seed took root in my body to create a life.” I take a step toward him, and he takes an uncertain step back. When I’m only inches away, I raise my chin and fix my eyes to his, taking the opportunity to inflict a little pain of my own. “Sorry to disappoint you, you disgusting pig, but the baby isn’t yours. It’s Doc’s baby. It seems you’re not so virile after all.”
Fury contorts his features as he whips me across the face with the back of his fist, rattling my teeth and making me see stars.
But I don’t fall or falter.
Because I’ll never be on my knees in front of this asshole again.
Otto steps back, rips his gun from the back of his jeans, and points it at me.
He wants to kill me.
But he’s too late.
Because he’s going down.
Bronte rears up behind him and brings a heavy glass vase crashing down on his head, over and over again, until he drops to the floor.
Overcome with emotion when he’s on his knees in front of me, I pick up his gun and shove it in his mouth until he gags. I think of all the disgusting things he did to me on those awful nights when I was alone with him, and I jam the slide of the gun deeper into his mouth. “I believe the term is… suck it.”
Otto’s eyes go wide. At first, he doesn’t believe what’s happening. His eyes darken, and he scowls like he can somehow still intimidate me. But one look at the hatred in my eyes, and he starts to beg for his life because he knows I’m not messing around. It’s payback time, and I’m about to cash in an incredibly large chunk of it.