Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
I’m a goddamn tic away from setting the world on fire.
Moving the gear to the kitchen, I unpack the meat. He tries to engage me in casual conversation while I organize the perishables, store them appropriately, and put the packs away. By the time I finish, he’s grown bored with my stonewalling and goes to bed.
Maybe he’s smart enough to know if he attempts anything with Frankie tonight, I’ll kill him myself. Consequences be damned.
Heading downstairs, I find the three of them sitting along the back wall in the distillery. Wolf and Leo sprawl at one end, Frankie at the other, all of them drinking vodka in silence.
My vodka.
Each one clutches a bottle of my latest batch of smoked vanilla, not sharing, not acknowledging one another.
It’s so awkward it makes my hands twitch.
I grip my folded arms and stare at Frankie’s lowered head. “I thought you preferred bourbon.”
“She drank it all.” Wolf takes a swig from his bottle and moans. “Bro, this shit is gold.”
“Wait.” My eyes widen. “Did you say all the bourbon?”
“All of it.”
I crouch before her, peering through the long red strands that hang in her face. “Trying to kill yourself? Liver first?”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t bother meeting my gaze, as if she doesn’t want me to see the dark bruises beneath her eyes, the hollow cheeks, the sharp bones in her pretty face. Darker, hollower, sharper than usual, and that’s saying something. She was already too skinny and pale to be healthy. Too frail to fight.
“What are you doing?” I pluck the bottle from her hand.
She lets me. No argument. No sass. No spark of life.
“She hasn’t said a word.” Leo tosses her an impatient scowl.
“She hasn’t spoken in sixteen days.” Head inclined against the wall, Wolf expels a cloud of smoke. “She might be physically there, but she’s not there.”
“Oh, she’s there.” I rise to my full height. “She just needs a reminder.”
I know what it’s like to give into the nothingness, to let it feed on the pain and consume the thorny memories. It’s numbing. But only for a little while. Reality always returns, and when it does, it hurts worse than ever before.
Striding into the next room, I rummage through the medical supplies until I find what I need. Back in the distillery, I sit beside her and remove a scalpel from its packaging.
Her head doesn’t turn, her focus obstinately glued to the floor.
I unwrap my bandaged hand and flex my stiff fingers. Motion is good. Stitches are clean. No infection. I’m on the right side of healing, thanks to her.
Holding my palm beneath her lowered face, I touch the scalpel to the fleshy red center of the wound.
She doesn’t react.
I make a shallow cut in the new skin. As blood wells, her hand flies out, stopping me from making another nick.
“Ready to talk?” I angle the blade, preparing to drive the point home.
She hisses, digging kitten claws into my wrist.
“There you are. I missed your hissing and clawing.”
“Let me be.” Sunken green eyes ascend to mine. “Please.”
“I did that, and look what happened. I’ll ask again. What are you doing?”
“What I have to do.” She releases my arm and looks away.
“It ends now.”
“Go fuck yourself.” No heat, no emotion, her voice isn’t hers.
“You’re not listening.”
“What do you want from me? I’m not committing suicide, getting murdered, or making babies. As long as I hold up my end of the deal, Denver won’t touch you or your brothers. My way involves no starving, no war, and no death. Tell me there’s a better solution, and I’ll listen.”
“No war? You think what you’re doing, what you’re sacrificing, isn’t tearing us apart?”
“You left the other women to their fates. How is this any different?”
“You know why.” I set the scalpel aside and crane my neck, chasing her averted gaze. “We’re not just a team. The four of us are a family.”
“And I’m doing what’s best for my family.” She pushes to her feet and walks toward the stairs. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Before I can blink, Leo’s up and out the door, hot on her heels.
“Go to bed,” I say to Wolf, noting the sagging exhaustion in his shoulders.
“You must be mistaking me for someone who takes orders from you.”
“You’re no help without rest. Leo and I just ran thirty miles in record time. Once we go to bed, we’re going to sleep like the dead. We need you fresh and ready to take over for us. Yeah?”
“I’m not a fan of your tone.” Stomping out the cigarette, Wolf stands. “Or your accuracy.”
“Sleep in my room. We’ll join you when we can.”
As he plods up the stairs, I bandage my hand and take a few swigs of vodka.
Christ, that’s good. My best batch yet.
After another long draw on the bottle, I head out to finish this.
I find them in the armory as she shoves shit into a backpack. Flashlight, handgun, flare gun, first-aid kit…