Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
So no, he didn’t want the guy anywhere near Nalla.
Without Bella’s love, Z knew damn well that shit could very easily have gone a different way for him. But his good result was a one in a million, and he didn’t want his daughter rolling those odds.
Arriving at the boarded-up entry, he inhaled through his nose—and smelled fresh human blood.
“Nailed it,” he said into the darkness.
Gently testing the handles, he knew he should alert the others.
But he also needed a good outlet for his rage. If there was something to fight in there, he wanted first crack at whatever it was.
He was in a mood to slaughter the enemy.
Slowly.
* * *
On the other side of the plywood sheets, Evan heard the entrance rattle, and the soft sound brought his head up. He was sitting on the chipped, cold floor by the elevator, his back against the wall, his knees up, his arms around his middle. He had been in this position since dawn, and had passed the time watching a slice of daylight pinwheel across the black oily tracks on the marble.
A millimeter gap in the plywood had let the illumination in, and he had felt all the more isolated for the light—the sun’s golden gleam had been a reminder that all around him, residents and visitors of Caldwell were going on about their lives, working, driving, eating, drinking, fucking, crying, laughing. The sense that he had taken a step away from all the hustle and bustle was inescapable, and if he needed a refresher, all he had to do was look at the black ooze on his torn-up fingertips.
What was now inside him did not dry. The substance had retained its viscous consistency over all the hours, even as it ceased coming out of him. And if he rolled his forearms over, he could see that his veins were darker than they had been.
He could still taste the sickly-sweet residue of it in his mouth, and if he thought too much about what had gone down his throat, he started to get sick to his stomach—
The entrance rattled again, and he tensed up.
But maybe now he would get his answers.
Evan got to his feet and brushed off the seat of his jeans. Shortly after… whatever had been done to him, he’d run out of the building and just kept going for as long as he could. He’d ended up in some parking garage and had stayed there for a while all crying and confused. He hadn’t even wanted to go to Mickey’s hideout because he couldn’t face the comparisons with who he’d been before.
In the end, he had returned to the office building. He’d been… “made” was the word… with intention so he didn’t think the trainer would destroy him. And he needed to understand how to undo all of this. Surely, there was a way, and he knew the trainer had to be coming back at some point—
Evan froze in place. Then looked down his body.
The strangest sensation was going through him. His skin had tightened until it felt like shrink-wrap over his muscles and bones—and underneath it, there was a vibration, like the oily substance was boiling in his veins.
Get out.
The instinct for him to run was so strong and clear, it was nearly a voice from outside of himself—and he heeded the impulse without being aware of choosing to.
Cursing, he hit the down arrow to summon the elevator. Punched it again. Punched it a third time.
A whispered prayer left his lips, and his heart pounded.
Abruptly, the mouse-soft sounds at the entry silenced, and all he could hear was the rushing in his ears—
Bing!
The sound made him jump and he quick-pivoted to the doors that opened a millimeter at a time, like they didn’t want to wake up from a nap. Glancing back over his shoulder, he felt that sizzle under his skin again, and he knew that whoever it was… they hadn’t left the entrance. It was so fucking weird. It was as if he could see the presence just outside on the sidewalk, sure as if he had X-ray vision and could visualize them through the glass, steel, and plywood.
It was a man and holy shit, they were backing away from the boarded-up entry, in a crouch.
“You’re blowing the door,” Evan breathed as he squeezed into the elevator. “And you are my enemy.”
Even though that didn’t make any sense. How would he know this?
Except it didn’t matter. He just had to GTFO. He was not up for any fight at the moment. He didn’t have any weapons, and he still felt dizzy. Plus he sucked at it, like he sucked at everything.
Frantically pushing the LL button, he kept his eyes locked on the barricaded entry, the sound loud as he wore out the little glowing circle, chk, chk, chk, chkachkachka—