Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Fuck you,” I bite out, but he’s right. I’m on edge because we finally have her in our sights. I have been following her for a couple of weeks. We had to learn her schedule, and I took it upon myself to stalk her, making sure she didn’t run. But the girl doesn’t notice me around, which is how I like it. As much as she should be alert, I’ve realized she’s as oblivious to her surroundings as we are aware of ours.
Hawk grips the back of my neck and holds me steady. “Listen to me,” he speaks, slow and calm. “It’s going to work out.” He’s been a constant in my life for a long time. I can’t imagine my life without him or Falcon. Before I can respond, he pulls me close and presses his lips to mine. It’s nothing more than a quick kiss, but it calms me somewhat.
When I first realized I was bi, I struggled with it. At times, I still do. But being on my own, living without the watchful eyes of my parents, I’ve been able to explore my sexuality more than I did when I was younger. Since I’ve finally given in to my instinct, what comes naturally to me, I can accept who I am.
“Falcon is going to be busy for the rest of the night. I’ll make sure dinner is ready for everyone to eat when they want,” Hawk says as he stalks off to the pantry where there are ready-made meals waiting for us.
He’s the only one of the three of us who enjoys being in the kitchen. He even spends time in here while Marta is here cooking up a storm. We leave him to it. He once mentioned it’s therapeutic. What I find calming is far from being in the fucking kitchen standing at in front of a cooker all day.
“I’m going upstairs,” I announce before he returns with whatever he’s found. I don’t wait for him to reply. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only. I pull out my cell phone and find her social media account. She’s not shared anything in a while. Most of her photos don’t show her face. But I know every inch of her pretty pixie-like expression.
She’s intelligent; I’ll give her that. Hiding out comes easily to her. I’m sure with the years of practice, she’s honed her skill, but she’s not good enough to elude us.
Her photos hide most of what she looks like but still show off her alluring smile. It shines like a light. Each image may not be entirely focused on her face, but those with glimpses of her eyes show warmth in them.
It’s what lures the ice-cold monsters closer.
Because bastards like us will watch, we’ll prey, and then, we’ll capture.
CHAPTER THREE
LUCILLE
The moon hangs in the sky like a beacon. I wanted to run away, and I did. The big city wasn’t for me. I had to leave because if I were anywhere close to the families my father destroyed, I would have, over time, lost my mind.
Nothing prepares you for the guilt that comes along with knowing you have the blood of a monster running through your veins. He was a monster. My father was evil. Which is why I find myself here, in a city on the other side of the world, away from anyone who would know me. But even so, someone might have followed the trial. They may have seen me in court. Life doesn’t afford you anonymity when your father is a killer.
I didn’t want to leave our home, but my mother said it was for the best, which is why I’m living in London now where nobody knows my name. It will offer me the safety I want. My father is still behind bars. I wait every day for the news to come that he’s escaped. He has too many connections with a lot of money. They have pull on law enforcement. I don’t doubt he will break out. It hasn’t yet, but who knows what will happen when it does.
I glance in the mirror to make sure my outfit is perfect. I started doing this because the loneliness has taken its toll. That’s a lie. It’s what I tell myself to appease the aching need as it continues to grow inside me.
I do this because there is darkness inside me.
Perhaps it’s my father’s influence, his broken parts have taken root in me, and now I’m slowly shattering. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t allow them to fall. It’s almost time.
I make sure to darken my eyebrows and slip in the contacts which change the shade of my irises, and I’m no longer the offspring of a man who slaughtered so many.
I’m a stranger.
And I like it like that.