Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
In those stories, Ferryn was often painted as a little girl by her aunts. One who was loud and opinionated and who did shit like put dinosaur heads on her Barbie dolls and bossed all the boys around like her little minions.
From her uncles, the men I now called brothers, they often talked of her as a rebellious teen, someone who could kick a little ass, who could win every debate, who once kicked a guy in the nuts because he cat-called one of the other club's daughters when she was all of twelve years old.
Ferryn was always a larger than life personality, someone full of life, someone who always had something to say, some story to tell, someone both fiercely independent, yet incredibly loyal, someone badass, but also sweet and soft.
There was no sweet or soft in the woman standing before us.
This woman was not full of life.
If anything, she almost vibed of death.
If that made any sense at all.
"Hey, man, didn't you know her?" West asked, breaking the crushing silence.
"Back in the day, yeah, you could say I knew her," I agreed, watching as her gaze slid back over toward me.
"Yeah, yeah, it's coming back. You tried to save her, didn't you? Got your face all busted in doing it."
"Yeah, that's the way it went," I agreed, looking for something in Ferryn's face. Some emotion. Hell, even just a little acknowledgement would be enough.
"That was the last time you saw her, right?"
No.
No, that was not the last time I saw her.
The last time I saw her was several days after she had been taken. I had been on my way to pick up my sister from our parents' house, knowing she had been as big a wreck as I had been about Ferryn's abduction, about her unknown whereabouts. And then I saw my sister walking out of the house with someone that, with their shaved head, I momentarily mistook for a boy.
I remembered even feeling a swelling of pride. Because our parents were strict fucking nut jobs, having lived it wild and free—maybe even a little too wild and free, hence naming their children Vance and Iggy—for a long time before becoming born again and shunning everything they had once loved and prided themselves on. And Iggy had found herself wholly inept at proper rebellion, no matter the very clear path I had blazed for her to walk in. I figured she had maybe gotten the balls to have a boy over the house.
But then I got a closer look.
It wasn't a boy at all.
It was Ferryn with a shaved head and bruised face and odd eyes.
Before I could even understand what was happening, she was stalking over toward me with the determination I had once seen in her gait when she was cutting across a park to confront a group of kids picking on a small girl with glasses.
Then she had grabbed me.
And kissed me.
There were several reasons Ferryn was off-limits.
Like her scary-ass father.
Like being the best friend to my little sister.
But the biggest one, of course, was the fact that Ferryn was underage when I knew her.
So, despite the clear crush she had held for me for a long time, and despite how interesting I had always found her, there had never been anything anyone—least of all her intimidating as fuck father and all his friends—could misconstrue as inappropriate between the two of us.
Hell, I barely looked at the girl. Even when we were having long-ass conversations in my car after I drove her home from hanging out at my parents' house or back from one of my shows where she had always been our biggest fan right there in the front, singing her heart out.
So, because of that—because there had just been some kind of block in my mind about her—nothing had fucking shocked me more than the zing that went through my body at the contact of her lips on mine.
I would have stopped it, of course.
I would have.
But then it was over.
And she was gone.
And no one, fucking no one, ever saw her again.
I had gone right on to tell Reign about seeing Ferryn, made Iggy tell him everything she knew about where she was going, what was going on in her head, but I had never told anyone the part about the kiss.
I valued my life at least a little bit.
Even if I hadn't initiated it, had been too shocked to even respond to it, I knew that was what it would cost me if anyone found out.
That was the last time I saw Ferryn.
Seconds before she ran away from her life.
Not to be seen again.
For nearly nine fucking years.
Yet here she was.
Alive.
Seemingly... well enough.
At West's words, as though she could hear the memories racing through my mind, I swear something sparked in her eyes then. Something familiar.