Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
The minute that van fucking disappeared, Cheska in the back, my bird moving too many miles from me, no longer by my bloody side, a deathly calm spread over me. The dark lord had just lost sight of his dark lady, and that turned the world on its axis. The demons inside screamed at me to get her back. Pacing and roaring at me to get our fucking queen back. To raze any fucker who got in our way to the ground.
My feet were already moving, autopilot kicking in. I saw the King’s Head pub up ahead and ran. I fucking chewed up pavement until I burst through the door. Every punter in the place turned to look at me. “M-Mr Adley?” the barman stuttered, and I recognised him as someone my old man knew. My dad had used this pub once for meetings years ago.
“Phone,” I barked as I reached the bar. The punters moved the fuck out of my way. I didn’t give a shit that I was leaving a trail of blood on the floor; I’d send someone to clean it up later. Right now I had tunnel vision. Every bit of energy I could muster was set onto one task—to get Cheska back, and kill the ones who took her from me. They took my fucking bird from me. They had no idea what they had done. What fucking monster they had just woken up.
The barman frantically placed a phone in front of me. I dialled Charlie’s number, knowing that if he didn’t answer, they were all dead. But my cousin picked up on the first ring. “Charlie,” I said when he didn’t speak at first.
“Arthur? Fuck, Arthur! Is that you? What the fuck is happening?”
“They’ve got her,” I said through my teeth. I fought to keep that fire in my chest burning, fuelling my anger so I didn’t fucking drown in rage and drive after them, killing them all before I even had answers. I didn’t just want the foot soldiers dead in whatever this syndicate was—I was going for the king. The fucking mad king who thought it a good idea to fuck with what was mine.
“They’ve got Cheska and Gene,” I said. Charlie grew silent. Fucking deadly silent. “Send a car. The King’s Head,” I ordered and put the phone down. I walked outside to wait in the fucking shadows beside the pub, just breathing, thinking, letting the evil in my veins rest, gain strength for when I needed it most.
A car came five minutes later. I got in the back. “Get me the fuck home.”
I pictured Cheska’s face, her fucking green-brown eyes as she’d got into the van. The look of goodbye she gave me, eyes saying I love you. Goodbye. She was saying goodbye.
My thoughts blurred to show me my dad. My fists balled on my knees as I thought of my fucking dad. My dad, who had looked at me and blinked slowly—saying goodbye to me too.
Goodbye … goodbye … I was fucking sick and tired of the fucking goodbyes!
The car turned in to the church. My family’s and soldier’s cars and vans were everywhere. I jumped from the car before it had even stopped, burst through the front door and rushed to the living room. My family were already there, fucking bloodied and scraped, eyes wide and ready to bring death to those who had fucked with the wrong firm.
Betsy flew at me and wrapped her arms around me. “Shit, Arthur. Are you okay?” She stepped back, checking over my bloodstained clothes. Suddenly, Charlie was in front of me too. He waited for me to speak. He had cuts and bruises on his face, suit ruined and torn.
“Freddie,” I said, fighting back the fucking rage that name off my tongue conjured. But it spilled over. In front of my family, it spilled the fuck over everyone. “IT WAS MOTHERFUCKING FREDDIE!” I swiped at the bar, and all the bottles crashed to the floor. I breathed, closing my eyes to rein the rage back in.
“What?” Betsy whispered, paling.
I paced, exorcising the hyped-up demons inside me, skimming off the too-strong energy they were emitting within me. I needed to take the fucking edge off their wrath until I was ready to unleash hell on the people we wanted to die.
“They’ve got Cheska and Gene.” I looked at Eric, who was ready to fucking murder anyone who got in his path. His little brother had been taken, his brother who had already almost died too many fucking times in his tortured life.
“They ambushed us at the dock,” Charlie said. “But Mikey had got there first. He knew something was wrong when one of his men hadn’t checked in on time. He’d called for back-up, and they had already killed most of the fuckers waiting to take us out.”