Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
She sighs uncomfortably. “He’s in bad shape, but as long as we can control the swelling, he should be fine.”
Should? I draw a sharp breath and hold back my urge to get downright hysterical. I can’t lose him, too. Especially now. There’s a living painting of men in that room. Chained to a damned wall. And any information I needed burned up with my house. This is not the sort of situation I can navigate alone. Plus, I care about Bard. More than I’m willing to admit to anyone. “I can’t lose him.”
“I understand.” She squeezes my arm, and I’m flooded with flashbacks from the last time I saw Grandma in hospice care. “We’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
“Thank you. I got a text that Bard’s nephew is on his way. He should be here tonight, but could you call me if anything changes? Good or bad.”
“Sure.”
I leave the ER, holding myself together with lies: He’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Life, God, the universe, whatever, never gives you more than you can handle, right?
How about monsters? I counter myself, walking through the automatic sliding glass doors to meet my taxi. I rode here in the ambulance with Bard. Took three paramedics to get him onto the gurney and carry him out of his house. And they were big guys.
On the way home, my mind fills with everything from feelings of defeat to self-preservation. I should get my ass out of that big house. I can’t be involved with something I don’t understand. I’m not Bard, so what use will I be?
But as my ride gets closer to the estate, a small fire builds in my chest. I don’t know who or what these Wall Men are, but I’m not some frail, helpless woman. I survived losing my parents. I’ve practically lived alone since I was nine. I know fear. I know loneliness. And I’ve conquered them both at every turn. So I don’t appreciate those pieces of shit trying to bait me.
Those assholes are the reason I grew up without a mom and dad. They killed my parents. Fuck these guys.
All this hits right as the taxi pulls up to the front door of the main house, where Master is waiting dutifully on the porch.
I get out and pay the driver, blind to anything around me. I hike up the steps, and the yellow car pulls away. In front of the door is a crime scene—blood, guts, gray fur.
“I see you took the liberty of feeding yourself, Master. Did you at least make sure the bunny didn’t suffer before you tore him up?”
Master barks angrily, like he’s telling me to piss off for leaving him alone.
“I guess that makes two of us who’re angry.” I step around the mess, which will have to wait. When I enter the foyer, I’m greeted by a deep velvety voice coming through the wall.
“Thought you’d never return, Lake. Hope you are here to see me.”
My eyes narrow, fixated on the top of the stairs. I know what’s waiting down that long hall.
“Yeah, Alwar, I’m here to see you,” I snarl.
I march up the stairs alone. Not even Master wants to come up. Fine by me. He’s safer downstairs anyway.
My angry strides announce me long before I get to the bedroom door. I step up on the box and find the key right where Bard left it. I unlock the door and push it open with my foot.
The room is the same as last night, only now the man in the middle isn’t playing possum. The paint and texture comprising his body are raised from the canvas, making him almost 3D. His eyes meet mine, sending a cold spike through my body.
Still, I’m not in the mood for cowering today. My world has been violated and, with it, my sanity. I don’t appreciate anyone making me feel weak, afraid, or victimized.
“I hope Bardolf is all right,” Alwar says, his full lips moving like a clay figurine brought to life.
“Shut up. I know you don’t care about him any more than you cared about my mom and dad.”
A slow, devilish smile creeps across his lips. I didn’t notice before, but he has odd-colored hair—deep amber with streaks of flaming red and midnight black. His beard is long and unkempt, almost touching his chest. The color is darker, matching his eyebrows and the thick lashes fanning around his sapphire blue eyes.
“I care about you more than you know, Lake. It is them—your family—who have fed you lies.”
“Shut your mouth. I know you’ll say anything to get free.”
“That does not mean I am incapable of telling the truth,” he says, his tone cocky.
He’s taunting me.
“You killed my parents. You honestly think I’d believe anything you have to say?”
“Yet you would place your trust in that old woman Rain? You know in your heart she never told the truth about anything.” He pauses for a moment. “No, it was not us who killed your parents. Not the Wall Men. So you need to ask yourself why your family would lie.”