Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Getting down on my knees, I huddle on the floor. I’m shaky and nauseous from adrenaline. Terror claws at me. My instinct is telling me to run, but Dante has been fighting these wars since he turned fifteen. In this, I have to trust his judgement.
A shadow moves past the window on my side. Holding my breath, I try to make myself smaller. A second goes by. Two. Just as I’m about to let out the air that’s trapped in my lungs, someone opens my door.
A man in a ski mask and army fatigues grabs my arm and hauls me out of the car. I scream and fight, getting in a kick, but my efforts have no effect on him. I land on my knees on the tarmac, barely feeling the new scrapes on my already broken skin. I try to crawl away, but he jerks me back by my hair. Wrapping an arm around my waist from behind, he lifts me off my feet.
I fight like an animal, clawing and twisting in his hold as he runs toward a side street. My gaze falls on Kent, who’s crouched next to the car. Dante’s guard doesn’t lift a finger to help me. Instead, he watches with a hateful, cold blue gaze as my assailant carries me away.
I scream at the top of my lungs. “Dante.”
He’s caught up in the gunfire, fighting for his life. My voice doesn’t carry over the noise. I already know it’s too late. I know exactly what awaits me as my attacker clamps a hand over my mouth. I bite, but he’s wearing gloves.
A van is parked up the street. Someone opens the sliding door as we approach. The man throws me inside. Pain shoots up my side where I land on my hip. The interior goes dark as the man who grabbed me shuts the door. The windows are covered, not letting in light.
I try to get up and fall when the van pulls off before speeding away. I knock my head hard against the door, tasting blood where I’ve bitten my tongue. The interior light in the roof goes on, washing out the darkness. The man who opened the door from the inside wears the same ski mask and army fatigues as the one who grabbed me. He grips my wrists behind my back and secures them with something hard that bites into my skin as he ties it too tightly.
“Who are you?” My voice is unsteady. “What do you want?”
His reply is to shove a piece of fabric scrunched into a ball into my mouth and to pull a bag over my head.
That’s when it sinks in with startling clarity.
This is the end.
* * *
TO BE CONTINUED