Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“You can’t,” I croak, shaking my head as he comes closer. “Malcolm won’t let you. My father—”
“Don’t call him that,” Benedict snaps and for a moment, fury overtakes him. But he quickly gets himself under control. “You’re nothing but a bastard girl. You’re worthless. He’s spent his life trying to avoid you, and now you want to evoke his name like a shield? Oh, no, Jeanie, no, no, no, that won’t work.”
I groan as he kneels next to the mattress. The knife waves in the air and I stare at it, remembering the feel of its edge biting into my face. He’s going to carve me up, tear my skin from my flesh, push me deep into agony for hours and hours for his own amusement. He’s going to torture me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Unless.
Unless I end this.
Right here and now.
End it fast. Make it quick.
Maybe I can dive on his knife. Drive it into my throat. When he brings it close, I can jerk my neck and cut into my arteries. I can bleed to death, here and now.
Tears flood my eyes. Tears spill down my cheeks, big, soggy, and ugly. Benedict rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m finished, I’m dead. This is how I end, on a dirty mattress at the hands of a psychopath.
He brings the blade toward my face. “Smile for me, pretty,” he whispers.
I can do this. It’ll be fast, better than what he has planned. All I need to do is act, right now, before he starts—
The door opens. Benedict jerks away from me just as I move and I end up slamming onto the mattress. He stands, ignoring me, and flips the knife closed as a scared-looking young man dressed in a white shirt and dark pants stands in the doorway.
“Uh, Mr. Benedict, sir? You told me to alert you if anyone came home?”
“Did Malcolm leave early?” Benedict sounds nervous.
The young man shakes his head. “No, sir, but there are cars outside. Six cars and a lot of guys are gathering in the driveway. Should I tell them to leave, sir?”
Benedict stands very, very still for several long moments before shaking his head. “Gather the staff. Alert security.”
The man’s eyes widen. “Sir?”
“Tell all non-security personnel to find a safe room and to hide. Do you understand?”
“Sir, there aren’t many guards on duty tonight. And there are at least two dozen men outside.” The fear in his voice is thick and sticky.
“Do as I ordered,” Benedict snaps and the young man runs off.
He turns to me slowly. I stare at him, heart racing, caught between fear and hope and not sure which way I’ll land. Those men outside, they can’t be Gavino. He doesn’t know I’m here, and anyway, he sent me away. He doesn’t care about me anymore. Whatever happens now is all on me.
This is something else.
But Benedict’s face is twisted with rage.
“You’re coming with me,” he says and reaches down to grab my hair.
I gasp in pain as he drags me to my feet. I try to struggle and fight, but he hits me in the face and I see stars as he throws me into the hallway. I scream and he slaps a hand into my face and pulls me along, down a carpeted hall, and up a set of stairs.
We’re in Malcolm’s house. I can’t believe they’d bring me to Malcolm’s house, but we appear in a hallway I vaguely recognize, one toward the back of the building near the door we used to exit through last night. Toward the front of the building, there’s some shouting, and I spot several staff members running away.
“This way,” Benedict says, pulling me by the hair, and I have to struggle to keep up. I’m bent over, face in pain, head on fire, and he’s not slowing down as we hustle to the door. There’s more yelling, a shout, and a single loud explosion. “Motherfucker.”
Benedict kicks the door open as more explosions go off and I realize it’s gunfire. I scream as I’m pulled out back, and more shooting happens, more shouting, until the gunshots suddenly cease and the night is silent again. I try to scream one more time, but Benedict grabs my face and shoves a hand over my mouth.
“There will be plenty of time for screaming,” he growls in my ear as he drags me past the pool and toward the rocky expanse of the desert landscape.
Before we reach the edge of the yard, I kick off one of my shoes. I tumble down behind us and it’s lost. Benedict doesn’t notice, only adjusts his grip and takes my hair again, and we’re stumbling into the night, moving fast from the house and into the deep, black darkness.
I kick off another shoe. I step on rocks and I think my feet are bleeding, but fine, that’s okay. I remove a ring, a bracelet, and both earrings. He’s too busy stomping ahead to notice. I drop a pen from my pocket. All the while, Benedict keeps moving, pausing only to bark at me to hurry up, and doesn’t look back. The house slowly disappears in the distance as he takes me along a path that skirts a rocky outcrop and slowly meanders upwards, moving into the hills.