Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
A knot of fear forms in my throat, but I do my best to swallow around it. I can do this. With his support, and Drew’s and Lee’s and Aries…with all of them behind me I know nothing bad will happen to me. I know they will protect me.
The doorbell rings, and it echoes through the house. I’m a nervous wreck. What if I fail? What if this doesn’t work? I keep pacing, wringing my hands and straining to hear the housekeeper, Carey, open the door. She agreed to stay, open the door, and then make a quick exit through the kitchen, where Lee will ensure she gets off the grounds safely. Not having a servant in Sebastian's home would only draw speculation, and we want to make sure he’s unaware of what is about to take place.
The housekeeper's voice is soft, and their greetings to one another carry into the small space off the main entrance. I’m frozen with fear and worry. Failing is not an option. Today I break free of the shackles my father spent years keeping me chained with. Today the prey becomes the predator.
“You’ve got this.” Sebastian whispers to me as he steps into the closet at the corner of the study. He pulls the door nearly closed, keeping it cracked an inch.
You can do this, Elyse. You’re strong. You’re in control.
My father’s approaching footfalls make me shiver. Memories swirl in my mind, and I have to force myself to stay focused on the study door so I don’t fall inside them. The door to study opens, and my father saunters inside.
No going back now.
The first thing I notice is that he’s in civilian clothes. Probably not a good idea to kidnap a person while in uniform. Though that’s never stopped him from beating me before. I take in his presence. His jeans hug his rounding belly, cutting across his button-down shirt, which is a little too tight. He’s wearing a sports coat hanging open, his hands pressed inside his pockets. "There you are, Ely. Wasn’t the plan to meet at the door so we could make a quick escape?” His gaze scans the office.
I swallow hard, trying to coax a response free of my suddenly super dry mouth. "That was the plan, but then I realized I can't carry the cash. It's too heavy." I wave to the bag we stuffed with a pillow and some weights sitting on the floor.
His gaze gravitates towards it, his eyes lighting up. "I'll take it; no problem."
“Of course. Did you bring the police report?” I move to the side when I ask the question, as Sebastian instructed.
“Here.” With a sneer, my father tosses a flash drive on the desk and steps closer to the bag, essentially trapping himself. As soon as he’s in place, Sebastian slips out of the closet.
His steel voice cuts through the air. "You might want to wait a moment, Sheriff."
My heart clenches inside my chest, and my father freezes in his tracks, his feet planted wide on the floor.
Sebastian is holding his gun on him, and he jerks it slightly so my father will remove his hands from his coat pockets. Surprisingly, he does so, slowly.
He pins me with a disgusted look. "What the hell is this? The plan was for you to be alone."
I shrug, still unable to speak around the lump in my throat.
"What is this? What do you want?" My father demands, turning his attention to Sebastian.
Sebastian comes around the other side of the desk to stand at my side. "It's not what I want. It's what she wants." He tips his head my way.
I gulp again and wrap my arms around my middle. We discussed this in detail. And yet, faced with the realness of the moment, I don't know if I can follow through.
Sebastian's right hand skims down my spine, warmed from the fire. "You've got this."
My father rolls his eyes, relaxing slightly. "Yeah, Ely, you've got this. Just like you've been able to succeed every other time you tried to get away from me. Pathetic. That’s what you are."
He doesn’t think I have the courage to walk away from him. His arrogance does something inside me…solidifies my hesitancy, silences my fears. I might have failed at escaping him in the past, but today I’m rewriting my future. When I reply, my voice is firm.
"You aren't walking out of here with me. Not now, not ever. That part of my life is over. But, you can still walk away. You can take this money, and leave here…all I want is an apology. An acknowledgement of all you've done."
He narrows his eyes and plants his hands on his hips. "Or what? Your boyfriend—sorry, your husband—is going to shoot me? I’m the fucking sheriff, or have you forgotten that?”
“How could we ever forget, with how many times you remind us?”