Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Four
Halo
My eyes flew open as my heart slammed against my chest rapidly. It was dark in the room, but the unease that I wasn’t alone felt like icy fingers crawling up my neck. The moon was still high in the sky, which meant I hadn’t been asleep for long.
Had I locked the door? I tried to remember, but when Nick had left me here, I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
I tried to tell myself I’d had a bad dream and that was all this was, but the hairs on my arms were standing up.
Something moved in the corner, and I opened my mouth to scream, not sure that anyone would hear me if I did. The figure was in front of me before the first sound tore from my throat. There was a flash of something shiny as the figure—who had to be a man because of his height and build—lowered himself until his eyes met mine. The sight of the blade in his hand silenced me as I stared at it, then back at him.
He had a knife.
There was a man in my bedroom with a knife. Oh God.
“I-I d-don’t have any m-money.” I stuttered out the words.
Had he not noticed he’d broken into an empty house? Not to mention, it wasn’t the kind of house that looked like it would have anything valuable in it.
The man’s mouth turned up into a sadistic smirk as his light eyes glared at me with pure hatred. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t have enemies. This had to be some serial killer or a random psycho.
“Not here for money,” he replied in a deep voice that would be appealing—if he wasn’t in my bedroom in the dark with a knife.
Was he going to kill me for sport? Or rape me, then kill me?
I had to think. What did one say to a psychopath to get them to change their mind?
I didn’t have a weapon in this house, which I realized now was very poor planning on my part. That and the not making sure I’d locked the door.
“Where is your brother?” he asked.
My brother? Ares? What had Ares done?
I knew he hadn’t been hanging out with good guys this past year. Okay, fine. They were borderline criminals. He’d been high more than once when he came home. I couldn’t imagine Ares had done anything to warrant this though. I’d told him those guys were going to get him in trouble. He’d laughed at me and rolled his eyes.
“Which one?” I asked him, although I knew good and well this was not about Alvin or Dennis.
“You’ve got more than one?” he asked me.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see a little better. I did a quick study of his face to see if he was familiar. Chiseled face, sharp jawline, short and scruffy facial hair, his dark hair wavy and layered. A bandanna was narrowly folded and tied around his head, like Rambo. Deep-set eyes that were a lighter color than just mere brown. It was too dark to tell exactly. Tattoos decorated his muscular arms and the hand that was currently caressing the blade of his knife.
Fantastic. I was going to be murdered by a man I’d have considered hot in any other circumstance.
“How many brothers do you have?” he bit out, snapping my focus back to the situation rather than his wide shoulders.
I blinked. “Three,” I replied. “But I doubt the ten-year-old or six-year-old pissed you off. Although I can tell you that I’ve had my moments with them. They can be annoying.”
What was I doing? Rambling on like an idiot. This was panic. That was what it was.
“The oldest brother. Where is he?” the man demanded.
The deadly gleam in his eyes made me shiver.
Ares, what have you done?
“I don’t know,” I told him honestly.
I mean, I did know he was at boot camp, but I wasn’t sure where that was. I thought I had been told, and if given time, I could have remembered, but that was before this man had shown up in my room with a deadly weapon.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch,” he warned, then grabbed my hair with one hand, jerking my head back, and placed the sharp blade to my neck.
I did not want to die this way. I thought I’d have preferred a gun. A bullet seemed less painful. My hand went to my stomach as realization hit me. I’d been trying not to think about it. Pushing it off because I had no idea what I was going to do. But being faced with death—the fact that if he killed me, he would also be killing the baby inside me—turned up my terror to a new level.
“I’m not lying,” I said. “Did you notice this house is empty? I am the only one here, and everything else is gone.”