Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Not that he would.
Out of the Tremaine twins, he’s definitely the bigger pussy.
I swiftly remove my knife and repeat the piercing action to the approximate area of his other kidney. Afterward, I drive the blade into the space between his shoulders and drag the weapon downward, essentially severing his spine.
A vengeful grin graces my face as I lean closer to his. “Now you really are spineless, you worthless sack of shit.”
Cleaning my bloody tool along with my hands on the arm of his shirt is unexpectedly cut short. Creaky noises from the nearby bathroom door opening sends my focus that direction. Drew’s eyes immediately widen at the sight of me. His mouth drops to yell for assistance or help prompting me to rush him. Whatever holler was leaving his cracked jaw is replaced by a grunt of pain when he’s slammed against the glass shower door. Unlike his brother who is taking his last breaths, he’s stronger.
More willing to take a punch.
To give one.
His balled fists swing my direction aiming for any stretch of territory he can inflict damage. Rather than give a shit about defense tactics or receiving a strike, I dedicate my efforts to ending him. Each flick of my wrist is used to slice his skin, cutting open veins and nicking arteries. Stabs are wedged into him between shoving him back against the hard surface and enduring the occasional hit to the abdomen. He cusses about his pain and curses me for fucking up his family. Drew wastes breath blaming me for his problems, which ultimately steals energy he needs to put up any sort of real fight. During one of his barked complaints, I switch the knife to my offhand and swing it around to deliver a stab to the ear. Cries of both agony and unexpectedness instantly occur. They’re followed quickly by more screams of pain as I remove the weapon and jam it into him again, this time at a crooked downward angle, hitting his rapidly beating pulse and Adam’s Apple alike. He melts against the glass into a convulsing clump of choked cries.
“You two fuckheads were born together,” I grumble, intently watching his final moments of life. “Only right you die together.”
The instant his body ceases to move, I spit on his corpse, mutter a curse in Italian, and rush out of the room thanks to the sound of shots being fired. My gut tells me it’s the Marshall who’s been hit while poorly monitoring the area hit rather than my second yet, I mentally prepare for both scenarios. Just as I relocate to the bottom of the stairs, Edwin begins to hastily descend them. There isn’t time to reach for my gun before Mickie is firing off a round into the coward’s calf. He stumbles forward from the impact and his body rolls down the remaining few steps, landing directly at my feet.
Hesitation doesn’t make an appearance.
Instinct has my designer shoe-covered foot instantly stomping on his face. He moves a hand to swipe at my leg forcing me to step back, and in doing so, Mickie shoots a second time. This bullet lands in his stomach, momentarily neutralizing him. Using my full advantage, I stomp on the new wound. Pummel him into the hardwood floor while he howls for what I believe is mercy. His ribs crush and crunch over and over again underneath my foot. Blood slickens my shoe and the sight has me moving my efforts over to his face. Smearing the crimson fluid across it is followed by full force kicks. The pointed toe to my wing-tipped footwear pierces his eye socket. Once. Twice. Three times before I use it to turn his head away and kick it into the edge of the bottom stair. Every hit to his skull aids in the concaving of his face. Watching red streaks paint the area we’re occupying does its best to provide me with the relief I desperately need, yet it isn’t until my attention shifts away from the man incapable of breathing and up to the woman he had no right to take from me that pacification is truly met.
I unholster the gun, plant a bullet in the back of his twitching head, and extend the other hand upward. “Come here, Twinkle Toes.” My tone does its best to be warm as opposed to gruff. “Come to the man that loves you.”
Whether it’s my words or just the fact that I came to save her from them that has her flying down the stairs, I don’t know nor do I fucking care. In one flawless effort, she slightly hops over the mutilated figure and into my arms. Both of hers wind around my neck while mine tightly wrap around her torso to carry her fit frame away from the mess.
Elle’s hold hardens alongside a soft sob, “I knew you’d come for me.”