Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
That would mean someone… has switched them on, on a day children were scheduled to play in the maze, and that is just… inconceivable. So inconceivable in fact that I only move when Killian shrieks again, his voice rising over the roar of two massive saws.
I don’t have much time and bolt inside the maze without thinking. Initially, I attempt to follow the quickest possible path, but Killian’s unfamiliar with the kind of danger I’ve unwittingly pushed him into, and if he gets hurt, I’m never going to forgive myself.
Glass decorations break as I charge at the nearest bush, tearing my way through the evergreen wall. It spits me out onto a winding path, but I know where it’s going to take me, so I follow it, and only then throw myself at the hedge in front of me. This one’s thicker, denser than the one I tackled before, but with Kill’s cries for help ringing in my skull, I drag myself up and roll over the manicured bush.
Maybe I should calm him by shouting I’m coming or Almost there, but it feels like a waste of air, when he’s so close, his shrill voice so very loud as I go right twice, then crawl under one of the hedges, and go left to face the path heading straight for the middle of the maze.
In my way is a deep hole the size of a small car, and two mechanical arms featuring circle saws move from both ends. They’re reaching for Killian, who’s in the middle, attempting to gain momentum as he throws himself at the wall to crawl out.
He’s too short. This place is designed to hold men much taller than him.
“I’m here! Grab my hand!” I yell and fall to the ground to reach for him from the edge.
Killian’s eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with pure terror. He doesn’t say anything, just latches onto me with a sob. I don’t waste a second and pull him up. Into my arms and out of the saws’ reach as they continue at their deadly pace. I roll into the snow, holding him to my chest, and we both shake, as the grind of metal meeting metal announces the saws would have reached him at this point.
“What is that?” Kill chokes out, breathless and shaking as if he jumped into a frozen lake. “I don’t want to die!”
“No… no, baby, you aren’t going to die,” I whisper, hugging him to my chest. “I’m here. I’ll protect you,” I say as the roar below continues.
His nape smells of raw fear, and my soul boils over, because this couldn’t have been an accident. The traps are usually cut off from electricity to prevent situations like this, and that means my sister sent the man whom I brought here as my husband into the maze knowing what would happen.
Or was it someone else who activated the trap at the right time for Kill to fall into it?
I will rip the fucker who did this apart, but for that I need to get back into the house.
No one messes with what’s mine.
Killian can be rude, forceful, opinionated, I’ve seen all that firsthand. But now he’s shrunken, crying, clinging to me as I get up.
“I’m sorry. For whatever I did!” he sobs as I pick him up because he doesn’t seem capable of walking.
“You did nothing wrong, baby,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead as my feet carry me toward the entrance. He mumbles something in response, but between the sobs and his attempts to crawl inside me, I can’t understand what he’s saying.
Fury is a red hot presence in my chest, and I will have vengeance, but my boy comes first, and I’ll protect him from every predator there is, even those carrying the same name as me.
I kick the door open and enter the hall to astounded stares from my aunt and uncle chatting on the stairs, but I head straight for where the men are gathered. Because I don’t think my sister activated the traps. She was too busy with the kids and wouldn’t have enough time to go through with such a plan if she tried.
My brother on the other hand had the time, opportunity, and a very clear motive.
I enter the smoking room, and my gaze wanders straight to the fireplace, where Titus is in the habit of standing during informal meetups like this one. When he spots me, his eyes bulge, white and round as twin ping-pong balls. I recognize the shock passing over his face for what it is before his features return to their usual neutral expression.
“Damen?” Father asks, frowning at me from his favorite chair, and I’m about to shake them both when Killian sobs once more. I keep forgetting how fragile and in need of my care he is. He might have street smarts and a big mouth, but he’s not used to the level of insanity at the Van der Horn house.