Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
My hands clench as I recall the look on her face when she walked out. I broke her in ways I don't think I'll ever be able to fix. I could blame her father—it'd be easy to place the blame at his feet. But this one is on me.
I should have told her everything weeks ago. Perhaps if I had, she'd be here right now.
Cristo. Why didn't I tell her?
Because you were afraid to lose her.
It's the truth. She's the first thing I've had to lose since I was nine, hiding in a closet. Nothing else has mattered since then. Not until her. I couldn't lose her, so I didn't tell her.
I'm the designer of my own demise.
That's not on Alessepo.
But why the fuck did he go to see her today? Of all the days, he chose the day when he was supposed to be meeting with the cartel to take possession of the guns. He never showed up at the meet. I know because I was there, waiting, watching. All I needed were pictures, and the final thread would have unraveled.
Instead, he showed up on campus to blow up my world. Coincidence? In this city, in my world, there is no such thing. There are only moves and countermoves.
The fact that he made a move today, of all days, worries me.
A surge of restlessness propels me to my feet. I need to know she's safe. I won't be able to fucking rest until I know she's safe.
I pull my phone out, the screen flickering to life. Her photo on the screen nearly drives me back to my knees. Cristo. She has to forgive me. I won't survive without her.
I pull up the location app I installed on her phone after the accident. For emergencies only, I told her. I never said that sometimes the emergency would be my own desperate need to ensure her safety.
I hold my breath as the app loads, the spinning icon mocking me. Let her be safe in her dorm or even at her father's. I'll accept either so long as she's safe.
The map finally loads.
I stare at the blip that represents everything I love—everything I can't afford to lose but may have lost anyway.
Cold dread turns my blood to ice.
The blip isn't where it should be. It's not on campus. It's not at her father's house. It's on the far side of the city, in gang territory. Blocks from where Alessepo was supposed to be earlier today.
"Damn it." My voice is a hoarse whisper, a ragged prayer to whatever gods are listening for her safety. I punch in her number, my hands shaking as panic beats at me.
It rings once, twice—each sharp trill jolting through me.
"Pick up, Karina," I mutter, the words a command, a plea. My pulse throbs in my temples, a drumbeat to the chaos threatening to consume me if I don't find her. If I don't hear her voice telling me that she's okay. She has to be okay. Because if she isn't, if they've laid a finger on her…there won't be any saving this city.
I'll tear it down brick by fucking brick.
The phone cuts to silence, the dead line mocking me.
I hit redial as sweat beads on my brow. The room feels like it's closing in on me, the walls painted with shadows that whisper her name.
The line rings four times before going silent.
I try again and then again.
My mind races, spinning out of control, picturing her caught in the crosshairs of whatever fucked up game her father is playing. With every unanswered call, the scenarios grow darker and more violent.
Is she bound? Gagged? Are they hurting her?
I try to shake the thoughts away, but they cling like tar, heavy and unyielding.
I slam my fist against the wall, the pain insignificant compared to the tightening vise around my heart. I switch back to the map to check her location again.
Her blip is gone, wiped away as if snatched from the world.
"Goddamn it, Karina." My voice breaks, terror for her surging through me. Fuck this. She's mine. I'm going to get her back.
I snatch my keys off the table, racing for the door.
Miles Alessepo's house is a fortress of secrets and lies, painted in a facade of patriotism and respectability. The only thing respectable about him is his dedication to the bit.
I park out front, killing the engine. For just a moment, I sit there, trying to calm the wild pounding of my heart, fighting the dread clawing its way up my throat. Trying—and failing—to convince myself that Karina is inside and everything is fine.
I've lived in my world long enough to know better than to believe a pleasant lie just because it hurts less.
I step out of the Rover, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. As I approach the door, I feel the weight of every decision I've made that led me here crashing down on me. I hate this motherfucker with ever fiber of my being. But that's what poisoned Karina. It's why she's out there now, alone, convinced I never loved her to begin with.