Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Do the documents somehow pertain to the men that came? Is that why my father wanted to keep me safe, and why he kept the notes hidden in the garden shed?
When they take the gag off me, should I tell them those are my father’s possessions?
Or is it better if they think they are mine? Would the knowledge give me better… what’s the word… negotiating strategies?
I’m so outside my element, I’m not even sure what I think. It doesn’t help I’m still famished, weakened and lightheaded.
“Christ, Keenan, where the fuck did she come from?” the big man in front asks under his breath, as if I won’t hear him. So the driver’s Keenan.
“Hell if I know,” the one on the left says. I’ve never interacted with any man other than my father before, and it saddens me these two are bad men. I’d have liked my first interaction to be a good one, if I’m now alone in the world, and destined to be forced to deal with people. Who are these men? Criminals, likely, if I’m to judge by the ease with which they kidnapped me.
Where did they come from? Why? Though probably older than I am, I’d guess they’re still young. And if I have to admit it, they’re both highly attractive men, especially the one who carried me to the car.
The driver’s tall and muscular, with a shock of dark brown hair, scruffy beard, and eyes as green as the Irish Sea, he looks ruggedly handsome. The other’s attractive, too, but this one… if he weren’t as evil as he is—any other time and place—that one would win my heart. His voice is deep and velvety, like thick hot cocoa, and he even smells… I don’t know how to describe it. But the way he smells lingers in my nose and makes me feel oddly feminine.
But they’re bad men. Evil. They’re no heroes come to rescue me or… I don’t know, whatever it is that men do with women. What do evil men like them do with girls like me? I don’t know where they’re taking me or what they’ll do to me when we arrive, and my nerves are fraught with anticipation. Why me?
The two men are talking softly to themselves, not paying any attention to me. Within a few minutes, we’re driving up a steep incline. My pulse races when I see an enormous house in front of us, large enough it could be a castle of sorts. I’m reminded of the fictional Palace of Justice of Notre Dame or a more gothic version of Camelot, the castles I’ve spent countless hours visiting in the pages of my books.
Keenan has something in his hand I can’t quite see, and he waves it at a black rectangle on a post to the left. There’s a beep, a tiny flash of red, and the gates slowly swing open. I gasp. It’s like magic.
How’d he do that?
If I didn’t have this gag, I’d ask him.
I feel my eyes widen in wonder as we drive toward the garage attached to the house. The estate’s surrounded by the most beautiful garden. Thick willow trees bow as if on bended knee before royalty. Stone benches and archways lend an ancient air, beckoning fairies and sprites to come and play. Lilies and violets line the garden, and I’m enamored with the various shades of purple and yellow. Behind an archway graced with ivy, a fountain murmurs its secrets. All things I’ve only ever seen in books. It’s overwhelming and wonderful.
I want to sit on a bed of moss by the fountain and breathe in the scent of flowers and trees. Though I know I’m in danger, a tiny flicker of hope blooms within me. I don’t know what they have planned for me or what will happen next, but I’ll make this place home.
I shake my head and focus back on the present. Has my isolation from others affected my logic and reason? Starved and lonely, am I still of sound mind? I have to keep my wits about me, no matter the circumstances.
But this… This place is enchanted, and I want to weave myself into its tapestry.
I suspected my father had a feeble hold on reason. Did I learn this as well?
We pull into a covered garage, and just that quickly, the brightness of a sunny day vanishes, as if to remind me not to get lost in my imagination.
I chant my internal monologue, repeating what I need to remember.
These men are not good men.
I’m in grave danger.
I make a vow to myself to observe anything and everything I can. I won’t fight them, not now, not like I did when they captured me. We’re on their land now, and I’ve no doubt I’m outnumbered. My suspicions are confirmed when several uniformed men approach the car.