Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I walk up the steps to the front door. I’m about to knock when a giant dog—maybe even a wolf—steps around the side of the deck, its eyes trained right on me. The moon gives them a bright yellow glow. It tentatively walks toward me, trying to figure out my scent. I step back to the door. I try to knock on it, but no one answers. The dog moves closer.
“You’re a big boy.” I hold my hand out. The dog sniffs it, then ducks his head so it goes under my hand so I can pet him. I let out a breath. My knees give out from the mixture of panic and the cold taking over. The dog moves in close, pressing its body against mine. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his fur.
The rest of the world melts away as I slip into darkness. My sister’s face is the last thing I see.
3
GARRETT
When I pull up the long driveway through the path of trees I had to make when I built my cabin, I already know everything isn't as it should be. Bear should be out here. He always comes rushing out of the dog door when he hears my truck, meeting me in the driveway to run alongside me, but he’s not there. I know this cold snowstorm wouldn’t stop him. I’m not sure anything actually could. I lean over and grab my gun from the glove box, wanting to be prepared for whatever comes my way.
I pull around, my lights hitting the front of the house. Bear lifts his head from where he is sitting in front of the door. I tuck my gun in the back of my pants when I see there is someone wrapped around him. The small figure has a mess of long blonde hair. She doesn’t move. My chest grows tight for some reason. A rush of adrenaline fills me.
I’m used to dead bodies. It comes with this job. This, however, hits differently, and I'm not sure why.
“The fuck!?” I jump out of my truck, rushing up the stairs. My eyes track the snow on the ground, but I don't see any evidence of her footprints. The girl has been here for at least thirty minutes. This is not good, especially with the current temperature.
“Bear.” I have to force him to move, tucking my arm around the small figure so she doesn’t fall onto the porch. I turn her in my hold, her hair falling back from her face to show me she’s not a child but a young woman with the face of a fucking angel.
Her lips are full and thick, yet her features are delicate and small, just like the rest of her. I easily lift her into my arms, punching the key code for the front door. The lock pops, and I push it open, carrying her inside. I lay her down on the couch before starting a fire and hurrying down the hallway to grab some blankets out of the closet. Bear sits beside the couch, not leaving the girl's side. I don’t blame him. I don’t want to either. What the fuck? I push that thought to the back of my head.
I thought Bear was just as grumpy as me. He doesn’t care much for company either. Now he’s hovering over this girl.
“Where did you find her?” I ask Bear, tossing the blankets on the back of the couch as I stand over the girl, knowing what I have to do next. I have never seen hair as blonde as hers. I’m not even sure you could call it blonde; it might be white. It rests against her pale skin, which is free of any marks except for a small freckle next to her lips. Every inch of her is perfect.
I run my hand down my face because she truly does look like a fallen angel. She appears too flawless to be real. A fucking vision. One that is causing chaos inside of me.
Bear lets out a whine, then nudges the girl's hand. She doesn’t wake. I can see the rise and fall of her chest. The pulse in her neck. Her breathing is steady, but she’s out. Where did she come from? She’s not from town. I know without a doubt that I’ve never seen her before. I would remember her. There isn’t a chance in hell that I could forget her.
“All right.” I exhale deeply as I reach for the buttons on her coat. I quickly notice that there's another coat underneath hers. After removing the two drenched coats, I discover she's wearing a worn-out long dress that appears to be older than her actual age. It’s damp too. “Fuck me,” I mutter.
I’ll have to remove it. I go for her shoes next. They are also worn and not designed for the snow. When I get them off, along with the socks, I wrap my hands around her delicate feet. They’re so damn cold.