Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I shift my gaze to one of the shelves.
Then I sigh.
Fuck.
He’s right.
I’m not thinking straight. Quish has properties that open your mind, and it allows you to suppress all your fears, your worries, and your heartaches so you can embrace all possibilities.
I’ve heard stories that the Gilded and Mythics become more powerful after taking it, which is why I want to. If I could become more powerful, I could stop Selah in her tracks and end this before it gets worse. Weaken her, at least.
I figured if I took just one, I could tap in with this Yuri character and figure out exactly what I’m capable of. But there are downfalls to quish, and though one of the major problems is what Rowan explained, a bigger one is the addiction to it.
Once you have one and survive it, you want another. And another. And another. It becomes an endless cycle until one day, you’re like the Vanorian guy Rowan mentioned who cut out his own heart.
“Fuck.” I dump the quish back into the bag and toss it on the desk.
Rowan blows a sigh of relief and picks the bag up. “Vakeeli’s sake, Caz. You’re scaring the shit out of me lately.”
“Yeah.” I drop my eyes to a stack of papers. “I scare myself too.”
“Wait until I tell Killian. He’s going to punch you in the face for even considering that,” Rowan laughs.
Though I don’t want to, I smile and rise from my chair. Before I can respond, there’s a loud thud from a distance.
Glass shatters followed by thundering deep voices. One of them stands out more than the others and when he yells, “WHERE THE FUCK IS CAZ HARLOW?” I cut my eyes to Rowan, and we storm out of the office.
FORTY-NINE
CAZ
Simpson is bleeding.
I spot the blood gushing from his nose as soon as I round the corner. His back is pinned to the wall, and a burly man in brown is pressing a knife to his throat.
Rowan withdraws his gun and points it ahead just as I turn my attention to the cluster of men standing in the middle of the tavern.
A sigh escapes me. And here I thought there was real danger. Turns out, it’s only Devlin and his Rippies.
“Just say the word, Caz, and I’ll blow his fucking head off,” Rowan rumbles, standing next to me.
“Blow my head off?” Devlin snaps, taking a large step forward.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You take another step, and I won’t just blow your head off. I’ll cut it off with a guillotine and feed it to my wolves.”
Devlin stops, his jaw setting as he stares at me.
“Why are you in my territory?” I demand.
“Are you really going to stand there and act like you don’t know what’s going on?” Devlin clenches his fists at his sides, his face reddening.
I start to speak, but the doors of the tavern burst open, and someone comes pummeling in. “I heard their stupid bikes!” Killian shouts as he storms forward, punching the first Rippie he sees. He goes for another, punching him square in the face too.
Devlin turns toward the chaos while Rowan says, “Fuck it,” and launches himself into the fight to land his own punches.
While they’re fighting, Devlin roars and runs toward me with a dagger out and a fist raised. He aims his fist at my face, but I catch it, gripping it with one hand while shoving him backwards with my other.
Glass shatters and wood splinters. I can’t help drawing in a breath when I realize Devlin has crashed through the window and flown completely out of the tavern.
“Oh shit!” Rowan kicks one of the Rippies off him. “What just happened?”
I lift my hand, and once again, my palm is red. Veins pulse and glow beneath my skin as that familiar heat builds. I clench my fist and swallow, looking up to where Devlin landed.
He’s pressed against a vehicle that now has a dent from the impact. As he tries standing, I walk past the fighting men to meet him outside, but the fight only follows. Now the men are outside the tavern, throwing punches, shouting, and swinging knives.
“What the bloody trench did you just do to me?” Devlin wheezes, forcing himself to his feet. He raises a hand in front of him and aimlessly swings his dagger. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth and the side of his head.
“You came into my territory starting a fight,” I shout. “The last time we spoke, we agreed to form an alliance, did we not?”
“That was before you set my entire territory on fire!”
“What?” I frown as he finally stands up straight, spitting before wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his arm.
“You did it to spite me! It was a power move, wasn’t it?” he growls. “Manipulate and lie to me because I’m a young, new monarch then force me out of my own land so we have nothing.”