Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
A petite girl in a baggy T-shirt rushes outside, in fucking flip-flops, her dark hair gathered in a bandana. And she’s holding a gun in her right hand.
“Let her go, Dave!” she shouts.
He immediately steps away, lifting both hands in the air. “Whoa. Fuuucking hell, you bitch.”
“Fuck you, asshole!” Still pointing the gun at him, she pulls Violet to her side.
I’m standing now.
Even from here, I can see the way she holds herself—defiant, sharp, shoulders squared despite the filth that surrounds her.
Dahlia Thorne. Violet’s foster sister and only form of family.
Her pictures don’t do her justice.
She’s much more of a firecracker in real life.
Her eyes, which I know are hazel, are blazing with fire, her grip on the gun steady.
She’s shooing away the drunk despite his slurred curses. Her sister stands just behind her, wide-eyed and fragile, but Dahlia’s firmly pushing the drunkard back.
She’s been through this before.
Hmm. So she’s the reason Violet hasn’t ended up in a ditch somewhere.
The drunkard lurches toward her again, but she pushes harder, her voice clear and guttural. “Fuck off, Dave! Lay off the booze.”
This time, he stumbles away into the night, lost in the gutter.
She keeps pointing the gun until he’s out of view.
A fighter.
My index finger twitches and I roll my ring. A sudden urge I’ve never had before takes root in my head.
I want to break her, see beneath her skin and find out what makes her tick.
Dahlia wraps her arm around her sister as she guides her to the house. The contrast is clear even in the darkness. Violet is fairer, more demure, and a wallflower. Dahlia is tanner, louder, and has an energy that can be felt from a mile away.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Vi.” She side-hugs her as they walk.
“Where did you get the gun?” her sister scolds.
“Mr. Song paid me to clean it. He wanted to give me ten bucks, but I negotiated my way to twenty. Isn’t that awesome?”
“It’s dangerous. Give it back to him.”
“It’s empty, but Dave is an idiot so—” She stops, then laughs awkwardly.
“Was that your stomach? You didn’t eat all day, did you?” Violet asks and starts to push her away, but Dahlia hugs her tighter.
“You know I hate cooking. I was so busy with school, I forgot.”
“What a child.” Violet sighs and hands her the plastic bag. “Here, I bought you a sandwich. I’ll cook you something for tomorrow.”
“Ugh, I love you, Vi. I also got you something. Guess what?”
“What?”
“The magical patches for back pain! I also learned this new massage technique from Mrs. Liu next door. She swears it will relieve the discomfort.”
Her sister pats her hair, and their voices mingle and end in an indistinguishable chatter as they go into the shack they call home.
I find myself leaning forward, trying to catch one last glimpse of her before she completely disappears.
Dahlia, not Violet.
We came here for Violet, but it’s Dahlia’s smile that’s imprinted in my mind.
In a second, multiple scenarios flash in my brain.
All of them ending with her under my claws.
I face Jude, who’s still watching the house, his eyes dead, his posture rigid. “Tell me your plan concerning Violet.”
He grabs my shoulder, then pushes me sideways. “Stay out of it.”
“Will do. On one condition.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Don’t touch or implicate the sister.”
Jude’s eyebrows shoot up, but he has enough understanding not to antagonize me when I have control over his weakness.
All right, then.
Dahlia Thorne has just piqued my interest, and that might be the worst mistake of her life.
37
DAHLIA
Icried so much, my head hurts.
I cried until I thought I’d never stop crying.
I cried for so long, I don’t think I have any tears left.
And now, I’m just numb.
My eyes track the looming trees from the back seat of the car as it takes me to my sister.
Somewhere in Rhode Island.
I pull my knees to my chest and lay my head on the window, letting grief wash over me.
When Julian told me everything, a part of me chose not to believe him. That stupid in-love part that trembled at the tiniest hint of Kane’s affection put its foot down and told me not to judge him.
Julian is not the good guy here. He threatened me with Grant the other day. Why would he be telling me this now?
So I asked the driver for a bathroom break and used one of those old pay phones.
I didn’t care what Julian said. I mostly followed his orders just to see Vi.
So I had to talk to Kane.
I had to hear him say it was all a lie.
But it wasn’t. A lie, I mean.
It was far from a lie and the closest thing to the truth that I’ve been searching for all these months.
The truth he clearly knew I was hunting for and still, he chose to toy with me.
Make me his entertainment.