Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Fine,” I agree, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. I can’t believe I just told the feds I’ll work with them. The same organization I’ve hated for so long, but knowing that is how I’ll see Amara again makes it an easy choice.
I’ll do whatever it takes to be with her… to make her happy.
Whatever it takes...
22
Amara
I’m over caring, over trying and taking care of myself. Losing him is all that consumes me. It’s hard to think about anything else when the other piece of my beating heart is out there somewhere. Jared is trying to make me feel better, as is our father.
They don’t understand. They don’t feel the pain deep down to their epicenter. Our love was built on fire, passion, betrayal, and hate. We might not have been meant to be together, but falling in love with him was the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done in my life.
“The debt is never going to be settled, piccolo.” My body shudders as the memory of that very conversation floods into me.
“Why?” I cry out as he pulls me closer to his mouth. His hot breath is on my face, and he smells like bourbon and man. Sweat still lines his brow, and blood seeps through the bandage on his shoulder.
“Because now it’s I who is indebted to you…”
This is his repayment to me. His way of thanking me, by making sure I’m free of the pain. I’ll no longer have to deal with Mack or anyone else trying to harm me. I also don’t have to worry about getting arrested for killing two people. Enzo covered everything for me. I’ll no longer have to fear for my life.
What he doesn’t understand is that I’d rather fear for my life if I could just have him with me. I would have chosen to be on the run for the rest of my life just to be with him.
“Come on, Amara. You can’t spend all your time in this bedroom,” Jared says from the doorway.
Burying myself deeper into the pillow, I scream. I want to hurt someone. Something. Anything to help dull the pain slicing through my chest. People say time heals all wounds, but I think it’s a lie. Wounds don’t heal. We just learn to deal with the pain after a while.
“Jared, I will pull a fucking knife on you if you come in here and tell me what to do again.” I have no filter. I have no reason to care if I hurt others. I’m out of control. Like a feral animal, I’ll attack anything or anyone who gets too close.
“You don’t scare me.” Jared snorts. He is getting used to my threats. “I care about you, and even though I know he’s gone, you have to carry—”
“Shut up,” I scream, not wanting to hear him. I don’t want the words to be said simply because it makes the ache in my chest worse. Nothing makes it more apparent than having the truth spoken, and I’m not ready to face the truth.
“God, Amara. It’s been two fucking weeks,” Jared all but screams, his temper rising with every word.
“Two weeks, Jared. Do you hear yourself? Two fucking weeks since I lost the person who made me breathe. The person who I lived for.” I sit up in bed, throwing the pillow at him. He catches it with one hand, throwing me a dirty look.
“Look, I know it hurts but—”
“What the hell do you know about love, Jared?” All he does is stare back at me. We both know he doesn’t have a fucking clue about love—what it entails, how it makes your heart race. How it makes your palms sweat, your eyes dilate, how every hair on your body stands on end when your other half walks into the room.
“One more week, Amara. One more week is all you get before we leave here, and you get your shit together.”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him hatefully. I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want to do.
As I rifle around the bedroom for clothes, I think back to the moment we drove away. I should’ve been mad at him. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve made him leave...
I hear the doorbell ring off in the distance, distracting me for a millisecond before I return to finding something to wear. I pull on a pair of jeans and push my feet into my boots.
Muffled male voices carry through the house, making me think someone actually came inside. Who the fuck? My first thought is the FBI, and my heart starts to race in my chest. No… I’m safe. Enzo made sure of that.
The voices grow louder until I decide I need to see what the fuck is going on. My hands grip the blade in my hand—the one his mother gave him. It’s the only thing I have left of him, and I haven’t let it leave my sight.