Series: The Moretti Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“This room is the only safe place in the house. Until we leave, you will have to remain here. I’ll get you some clothes in a little bit. You need to go to sleep.” I pull away, and she shakes her head.
“No! I have to save my sister,” she cries and thrashes against the mattress.
I start toward the door. “I know.”
“Then why tie me to the bed?”
“I have to. I’m never letting you go, Fallon. Never. Not even after we find your sister.” Her face falls completely, and I know she had hoped for a better outcome.
Maybe she thought I would grow tired of her? That I couldn’t possibly want her, but the truth is that’s exactly what’s happening. I’m lying to both of us because the truth is, I’m falling for her even while knowing I’m incapable of love.
The only thing I can do is hope that by the end of this, her fate doesn’t end similarly to Victoria’s.
29
Fallon
The apartment is nice, but it would be nicer if I wasn’t confined to one room for the majority of the day. Markus says it’s for my own good, but I think he’s lying.
I’ve been cooped up in this bedroom for days while he does errands and makes phone calls. It’s frustrating because while he tells me to trust him, he seems to keep everything to himself, making it hard for me to want to put anything regarding my sister’s life in his hands, and we won’t even mention how crazy he acted when we got here. He almost fucked me on the couch before changing his mind and handcuffing me to the bed.
He’s pent up here, much like a dog in a cage. The feeling is mutual. It’s obvious he isn’t used to living here, at least not recently. Every so often, I find him looking over his shoulder like he’s waiting for someone to jump out and get him.
There is something different about him today when he walks into the bedroom with breakfast in hand.
“After you eat, I want you to get dressed. We have somewhere to go.”
I just about leap off the bed, “That’s all you’re telling me? We have somewhere to go?”
“Don’t get mouthy with me,” he warns.
“Or what?” I don’t know why I’m pushing him, probably because I’m on edge too. I’m past being obedient. It hasn’t gotten me anywhere with him. I’m almost certain misbehaving would get me more places than being good has.
“You do realize I could treat you much worse, right? I could beat you, starve you, whore you out to men daily. You could have it much worse than being cuffed to a warm bed, being fed, and cared for.”
“You’re right. I could have it worse. I could be my sister. Who is probably going through exactly that. So save me your comparison because I would gladly trade spots with her,” I scream into his face, not caring about the repercussions.
At the end of the day, I’m stuck with him no matter what. He won’t let me go, even after all of this is over.
“You don’t know what you are saying.”
“No, you don’t know! You don’t know what it’s like to be helpless. And for your information, just because there are worse people out there doesn’t make you any better than them. Stop comparing yourself to awful people so you can make yourself feel better. Just because you have an ounce of compassion doesn’t make you a good person. You have no morals and no grasp of reality. You are caught up in your own little dark world, watching everything slip by you.”
“Are you done?” he asks, annoyed by my outburst.
Of course, he doesn’t care. He knows all of this already.
At least I got to say my peace, which does make me feel a tad better.
“Yes,” I huff, irritated by him patronizing me. “I’m not hungry. Can we just go wherever you want to go?” I won’t admit it because he would probably cuff me back to the bed, but I need to get out of this apartment, this bed, this goddamn room.
“Fine, get dressed.”
I do just that. It’s not like there are many clothes to choose from, so the decision is basically made for me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” Markus asks as I walk past the plate of French toast he made for breakfast.
“I’m sure.”
He shakes his head and grabs my hand. My treacherous little heart jumps in my chest as the warmth of his touch zings through me. At least he’s not dragging me behind him like a lost puppy. We exit the apartment complex through the underground garage, and as soon as we step out onto the concrete floor, his entire body tenses.
I wonder how many enemies he’s made to make him feel that he needs to peer over his shoulder, even in broad daylight?