Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
As if only just realizing that my stomach is connected to the rest of my body, Levi’s brows furrow and he turns to meet my haunted stare. His eyes are sickening, filled with pain and fury. He looks nothing like the Levi who fucked me on the roof, nothing like the calm and content man who I watched play his drums. This man right here is the lethal DeAngelis brother who I’ve always heard so much about in the news. He’s the relentless, psychotic man who will callously murder on a whim, he’s the man who would take every last scream out of a victim before brutally taking their life with a fucking smile on his face.
How could I have allowed myself to see anything other than that in these wicked men?
His hand moves inside me and I watch in horror as the corners of his lips lift into a twisted smirk while blindly digging the needle back into my body. My nails cut deeper as his blood pools beneath my fingers, but I doubt he even notices. “Why would I stop?” he questions, his tone void of all emotion. “I’m having so much fun.”
Nausea swirls deep in my gut and I see dark spots dancing across my vision, warning me that I only have a few moments before unconsciousness claims me again. My gaze shoots back up to Roman who’s holding me down, his strength like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but just as his dark eyes fall back to mine, I feel Levi’s fingers moving around inside me just moments before he digs even deeper with the needle, piercing right through my injured flesh.
A haunting scream tears from my throat and I turn my face, clenching my eyes as the smell of blood overwhelms me. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, doesn’t even give me a chance to breathe as the tears stream down my dirty face.
Roman presses down harder, his strong arm jammed up beside my face. I don’t even think, just open my mouth and bite down as hard into his warm flesh, desperate to relieve the pain any way that I can.
Roman doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch or even take note of the pain as my teeth dig into his arm, and when Levi removes the needle from my stomach and I release my grip on his arm, he takes my chin in his hand, forcing it up until my eyes are focused only on his. “There she is,” he tells me, heat and desire pooling through his lethal, obsidian stare. “The real Shayne has come to play.”
3
Sharp, pained breaths rip through my raw throat as I come to, waking in a too-bright room with my arms and legs strapped to the small surgical table. My gaze shoots around the room to find both Levi and Roman hovering close by, not letting me out of their sight for even a moment.
Throbbing pain circulates my body but the shock of being alive manages to somehow mask it, if only a little, but it doesn’t make sense. They want me dead more than anything, so why the hell did they save me? Do they believe me? Did they find the girl and realize I was telling the truth? That they fucked up more than they will ever know?
No. It couldn’t be that. Surely if they knew the hooded bitch existed, they’d be groveling, or at the very least allowing me some kind of pain relief while I heal. I wouldn’t be strapped down in this surgical bed, unable to move, unable to run, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t have felt Levi’s hands moving inside me as he stitched me up. Their games are only just beginning.
Levi sits to my right, his back pressed up against the wall and I can’t help but feel that something isn’t right. He almost appears regretful … broken, torn down in a world that he rules. His brother died so I get it, he has every right to feel like a fucking shell, but that doesn’t give him the right to tear into my body with his bare fucking hands. Though what does it matter? I won’t be walking out of here.
I cut my gaze across to Roman before Levi catches me staring. Roman sits perched on a table similar to the one I’ve been strapped to, his back pressed against the wall. His shirt is gone, and he grips a pair of tweezers in his hand, a grim expression etched into his face.
My eyes widen as the tweezers dig deep into his waist, feeling around for the bullet that was lodged in there so many hours ago. A soft gasp escapes my lips and his dark eyes immediately snap up to mine. He narrows them as a darkness settles over his features, that twisted, wicked man returning.